“My thanks for your hospitality, my lord,” he said, nodding agreement. He’d be better able to watch Lord Hugh from inside his keep.
“You should send word back to the rest of your men, so they do not think something has happened to you,” Lord Hugh urged.
So, they had been watched, and Lord Hugh knew where his men were. He probably also knew how many traveled with him and about the others. William kept his expression at ease, trying not to give too much away.
“Would you like to bring them here or send them supplies?” he asked in a tone that made it seem like having bands of armed warriors outside your gates was not something of note.
“As long as they have your permission to hunt, they will be fine, my lord.” William would assume that nothing was secret.
“Of course,” he said, nodding to his steward. “Alain, find a suitable chamber for Sir William and a place for his men in the barracks. They will be staying with us for a short time. I have some matters to attend to, but we will talk more at supper. Your men may join us as well, if you wish.” He gestured at Roger, Gautier, and Armand, seated a distance away.
“Again, my thanks for your hospitality. It will be a welcome change from living on the road.”
His men stood and bowed as Lord Hugh passed them and then they came to him. The steward stood ready to show them to where they would sleep.
“I need to know how many he has here. And where they are,” he said quietly, never taking his gaze off the steward who stood just out of earshot. “And anything else you think important.”
He turned to the steward. “Alain? When does Lord Hugh eat his evening meal? I have a matter to see to and do not wish to be late.”
“At sundown,” Alain answered.
“Roger, accompany Armand to your quarters. Gautier, come with me.”
“Sir William, the gates close at sundown and will not be opened for anyone.”
“Just so, Alain. We will be back by then.”
They reclaimed their horses from the stableboys and left then, watching as Roger and Armand were taken to one of the smaller buildings farther inside the castle. This time they rode through the village, not trying to hide or be discreet. Now they were guests of Lord Hugh.
He slowed his pace as they passed the smithy. From the sounds and smells, Gavin was hard at work, making weapons for Lord Hugh. Glancing down the smaller paths and around the cottages and other buildings, William searched for any sign of Brienne and saw none. He hoped that was a good omen, that she was heeding his warning and keeping to her usual tasks.
After giving his men new orders, he sent one of them to Marcus across the valley. Nothing he’d seen there spoke of a knowledge of fighting or defense. From the man’s own words, they had no skills and no soldiers among their group. But he knew that he must at least warn them of the possible danger of an angry lord in regard to the trespassers on his property.
Riding back toward the castle, William felt as though his true task for the king was finally under way.
The evening meal was uneventful and more pleasant than he had expected it could be. In spite of the fear that seemed to control the villagers, those living here in the castle seemed at ease. The lady and her daughter ate with them and retired early to their chambers, which William noted were not in this building but in a smaller one across the yard.
Lord Hugh did not remain in the hall, though his men did after his departure, offering some games of chance that lasted well into the night. Remarkably, when he returned to the room he’d been assigned, a young woman stood at his door, offering whatever hospitality he wished. Whether sent by Lord Hugh or Alain, it mattered not, for William would not partake of her favors.
Lying on the rope-strung bed that night, William realized that the one woman he would like to have in his bed was the one he would not ever have. He would not dishonor her by taking her virtue. And no amount of wanting or desire could make it so.
* * *
She’d taken her evening meal on a tray in her chamber.
Her chamber.
Glancing up in the light of the expensive wax candles that sat around the room, she could not believe the events of the day. The bed had a down-filled mattress over tightly strung ropes, which made it blissful to lay on. She’d let out a gasp and then a long sigh as her body sank into the softness of it. With plump pillows and a pile of blankets to keep her warm, Brienne knew she would be asleep in moments.
But now, an hour or more later, according to how far the candles had burned down, she could not sleep.
Pushing the bedcovers back, she climbed out and pulled on a robe. Unlike any garment she’d ever had, it was plush and thick and covered her from neck to feet. She did not know what the fabric was, but she loved the way it felt against her skin.
Walking over to the trunk in the corner, she lifted the lid and just stared at the costly clothing inside it. During the rest of the day, servants had come to do Lord Hugh’s bidding—delivering gowns, shifts, stockings, shoes, and jewelry, the likes of which she’d never seen or hoped for before. Combs, veils, and circlets for her hair, and several belts and fine linen kerchiefs added to the amazing collection.
The most extraordinary arrival had been a young woman named Emilie. Emilie came from Lord Hugh’s holdings in France and was some sort of distant cousin. And now she was Brienne’s lady’s maid and companion.
As someone who took care of herself and carried out her chores and performed errands for whoever needed help in the village, having a servant to see to her needs was too difficult to believe.
And Emilie, with guidance from Lady Margaret and Lady Adelaide, would help Brienne learn the skills a young woman of good birth should have. Music. Embroidery. Reading and writing—skills that had been ignored in her life because there were other more important tasks to be done. Now she would learn them.
She was shocked by the wealth showered upon her. It was not that she was unaware Lord Hugh was wealthy. She had known. But the chance that any of it would be shared with her was not something she thought in the realm of possibilities until now.
She walked to the window and carefully opened the shutters to peer out. From this height, she could see the village over the wall. The cottages seemed even smaller to her now, seen from this distance. Nothing moved in the dark. Gavin and Fia would be asleep by now, rising at dawn to face the new day’s chores and tasks without her help. And James. It seemed so long ago that the boy had asked to marry her.
She let out a sigh. The bliss was beginning to slip a bit, and her sense of judgment crept back in. Brienne knew there was surely a price to pay for all this good fortune.
Nothing she’d seen in Lord Hugh over her whole life led her to believe he did this for her. Or that he was seeking to do the right and fatherly thing. He needed or wanted something from her, and all these luxuries were payment for it. When she turned back from the window, he stood before her as though her thoughts and questions had conjured him.
“My lord,” she said, dropping into a curtsy the way Emilie had shown her. “I did not hear you enter.”
“Your chambers. The garments. All are to your liking?” he asked.
“Aye. ’Tis more than I ever expected,” she admitted.
“But what you deserve as my daughter.”
She had no words to reply to his declaration, so she remained silent and waited on his reasons for calling so late in the night.
“Come.” He lifted the latch on the door and opened it. “I would like to show you your heritage.”
Though she hoped to see paintings or tapestries of ancestors or castles, Brienne did not delude herself. Her heritage was the power she’d inherited. This would be a test, and she had no doubt that failure would mean exile or death.
* * *
Unlike Adelaide, this one did not flinch under his gaze. Oh, he knew she was afraid. He could feel her terror, feel
of the emotions pulsing through her right now, but he sensed her curiosity balancing out those fears.
As she followed him from the bedchamber, Hugh tried to remember who had birthed her. He paid little attention to which whelp came from which bitch unless it was his hunting hounds. Over the years he’d fathered a dozen or more bastards. He would ask Alain, who paid attention to these matters.
When she glanced up at him, he felt a flicker of recognition in the way her brow lifted and in the nervous smile on her lips. A wave of acid rolled in his gut then, and Hugh feared he knew the truth of her origins.
“Have I displeased you, my lord?” she asked softly as they walked to the other end of the smaller keep and then up the stairs. He shook his head.
“How many years have you, girl?” She must be younger than Adelaide, and if she was, then it was not possible. It could not be possible.
“I will be eight and ten when I mark the anniversary of my birth in the summer. At least that is what my parents—what Gavin and Fia—told me.”
She’d been born on the summer solstice eighteen years ago.
A year before Adelaide. Before his marriage to Margaret, which had seemed so promising to his father. She’d been born to—
He forced himself to stop remembering the rest of it. Controlling himself was an action he’d perfected, and he enforced it now, pushing away any memories that would interfere with a millennia of plans. They’d reached the corridor that led to his chambers.
“No one comes down this hallway without my permission, Brienne. Do you understand?” At her nod, he guided her down the darkened corridor, causing the torches to burn brighter to light their path. There was the slightest hesitation in her step, but she continued at his side.
Promising.
As he lifted the latch on his door, he heard the slight intake of breath as she prepared herself for what would come. He smiled then. The wench had no idea what she would face.
Once inside, he closed the door and they stood in complete darkness. When one controlled fire, one did not need to leave candles burning, he thought. Now her fear began to overwhelm her curiosity, and he felt her begin to tremble.
“Go ahead, Brienne. Show me.”
He liked this one, for she did not pretend to misunderstand him or his order. She took in a long, deep breath, and as she released it, Hugh found he was holding his.
If she was his daughter, if she inherited his power over fire, if he could bring her into his plans, their power would be infinite. So much depended on this unexpected turn of events, not the least of which was his own life. A sacrifice from the fireblood line would ensure Chaela’s success and his survival. And he intended to survive.
The room filled with light and heat as she created fire in her outthrust hand. The flames burst forth and burned brightly between them. He smiled. A good sign. She was untrained but carried the power of his bloodline.
“Must you hold out your hand to begin it?” he asked, watching the intense concentration on her face. “Just bring it forth,” he urged.
The room plunged into darkness for a few seconds as she dropped her hand and let it extinguish. Then once more Brienne made the fire burn between them. Hugh nodded and walked behind her.
“Larger,” he ordered. She made it larger.
“Brighter.” A human would have had to shield his eyes at the intensity of the light she brought forth. But he looked on it and into it, assessing the power she had, and smiled again.
She calmed then. He felt the tension leave her, and the fire became more intense and more focused. Walking to the other side of the room, at the edges of what she’d created, he took the next step.
“Aim it at me.”
Darkness was her answer.
“I told you to aim your fire at me, Brienne. Do not disobey me now.” He took a step closer.
“I cannot, my lord,” she said in a whisper.
She thought he would be harmed! He laughed at that. But if she would not follow his commands and use the fire as he wanted it to be used—as a weapon that swords and daggers could not stop—then she was of no use to him. And he would not waste his time training her. Better to end it now before she gained more power and did not know how to use it.
“I find myself unusually disappointed, girl. I had such hopes for you.”
Without any further warning, he unleashed his fire on her. She threw her hands up before her face to protect herself, as many had before her—but this time he found himself unable to prolong the torment he usually so enjoyed. He sent another terrible burst of fire at her to end it.
* * *
Danger!
William jumped from the bed and looked around the chamber.
Nothing. He was alone. The keep lay in heavy silence, and no sounds of alarm or attack could be heard. And yet . . .
His body began to shake and tremble and sweat.
His muscles tightened and grew, his head high above the floor. A bluish glow filled the chamber as his flesh changed and his vision filled with red.
His control was slipping away, and he was losing himself.
Brienne!
Then it was gone. The pull to that other being cut like a thread and he changed back to himself. He panted as the sweat poured from him and tried to gain some sense of what had happened.
She had been in danger; he knew it to the marrow of his bones. Just as she’d been before. But now he could feel nothing of her.
No fear. No sense of danger. Nothing.
Knowing they would not open the gates until the morning, he could not leave to seek her out. He lay back on the bed, still shaking from the changes in his body. Had he only thought his body altered? He’d been asleep and so possibly it had been a nightmare?
William listened to the unnatural silence around him. No nightjars chirping their songs. No sounds in this night at all, as though a heavy blanket had been tossed over Yester Castle, muffling any noises.
He waited for some sign of distress from Brienne, but all sense of her had been snuffed out like a candle.
Chapter 13
It burned!
Not like her fire.
This fire burned her skin and clothes and sent heated waves of air into her lungs.
The pain!
Her hands took most of it, flung up before her as though they could stop his fire from burning her. Then the power within her came alive and pushed forth, protecting her from the assault.
She hid within her flames so his fire could not harm her. Never had she wanted to send her fire at someone or even thought it a possibility, but he wanted her to. She could hear him urging her—daring her—to do it even now from inside the flames.
With little effort, she aimed at the shape of his body outside the flames and directed her power at him. He laughed as it struck him. Suddenly, she was no longer harmed or even slowed down by his assault. She thrust more and more at him until he was gone.
“Excellent, daughter of my blood!”
The words came from within the fire she’d created around her, for he was there now with her. At first she thought Hugh had spoken, but the voice was a mixture of male and female or . . . something else.
“She has the power,” the female said.
“She is ours,” the male said.
“Ready her for us,” the blended voice said.
“Stop!” Lord Hugh commanded.
Within a moment, all fire stopped, and she walked from among the flames. The lovely robe had burned to scraps in the first moments of his fiery onslaught. He reached for something on the chair in the corner of the chamber and tossed it at her.
Shaking from the physical cost of bringing forth such power, she collapsed as her legs gave out. Her father carried her to a chair and reached for a bottle of golden liquid, pulling the stopper from it before handing it to her. When she did nothing, for her body w
ould not obey her now, he wrapped her hand around it and guided it to her mouth.
“Drink. Now,” he ordered, as he pushed the bottle against her mouth until she leaned her head back and took some. The liquid slid down, coursing a molten path down her throat and into her stomach. “It is whisky.” She tried to lift the bottle from her mouth, but he held it fast.
“Again,” he ordered, tipping the bottle more and forcing her to swallow it. She tried again to draw back, but he shook his head.
“More,” he demanded. Another and another mouthful until her stomach eased and the heat of the whisky spread through her. Brienne lost the will to fight him. “Good,” he whispered as she drank once more from the bottle.
Dizzy now from the exhaustion and from the whisky, for she’d never had such a potent drink before, she fell back against the chair and felt her eyes closing. A moment or a minute later—she could not tell—the soft touch of a man’s hand on her cheek woke her, and she forced her eyes to open.
“The goddess is pleased with you, Brienne,” he whispered from in front of her. Crouched down so that their faces were level, he nodded and smiled. “Very pleased, as am I.”
Then he wrapped the cloth around her and scooped her into his arms. Soon they were moving through the hall and down the steps. He carried her in silence. Too dizzy to keep watching, too sleepy to think on much at all, Brienne could feel them making their way in the chilled air of the corridors. One glance into his face and she closed her eyes and let it all fade away as he spoke once more.
“The goddess is very pleased.”
* * *
She stumbled through the darkness, seeking a way home and finding endless black. Falling and falling and falling. Brienne called out for help, for Gavin and Fia. She could end this. She could end the darkness. She had the power. All she had to do was to make—
Nay! ’Twas forbidden. ’Twas secret. No one must know.
Dragged back into the nightmare, she fought it, fought its control and the terror. Lord Hugh stood before her then, throwing his fire at her, burning her and burning her until she . . .
Rising Fire Page 13
