Loving His Fire

by Lily Thomas

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank my sister for all she did. Though a huge critic, she really helped to develop my writing and spurred me on to pursue my dreams.

  Chapter 1

  Elizabeth watched the pea roll around her plate. If she had to listen to one more subtle put-down, she was going to use her fork to fling that pea into Lord Gavell’s superior face.

  “Don’t you agree, your highness?” Startled, Elizabeth looked up. Lord Gavell’s mother must have been leading the conversation. Again. What had she been talking about last?

  Lord Gavell, to his limited credit, interjected before Elizabeth embarrassed herself. “I’m sure Lizzie doesn’t wish to discuss such upsetting topics, Momma.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I don’t want this talk of giants and raiding to disturb you.”

  Elizabeth forced a demure smile while imagining a giant flinging Gavell across their private dining chamber into the main hall. Maybe he would land on one of the serving forks. The image helped her smile as she replied.

  “You are quite considerate, my lord, but my brothers often discuss the border situation with me. I find it important to stay informed. The people of Arcaern look to my family to provide an example, and I can’t do that if I stay in my room cross-stitching all day.”

  Which is where you would lock me up if I were foolish enough to marry you, she thought.

  Elizabeth had been dealing with suitors since she turned thirteen, when her body first began to fill out. At first, Elizabeth enjoyed the attention, but it didn’t take long before she realized that these men and their families were only interested in the title and wealth that came with her.

  At that moment, Elizabeth caught Gavell’s gaze wandering toward her cleavage and corrected herself. Perhaps there were a few other things they wanted.

  Her parents hadn’t forced her into a marriage arrangement yet, but at her age, Elizabeth knew it was only a matter of time. She should be grateful that potential alliances for her two older brothers had kept them occupied so far. Given her position, it seemed silly to expect a romantic match, but Elizabeth continued to hope. Of course, she’d have to find someone she was even interested in first…

  Lord Gavell leaned in across the table, and Elizabeth tried to focus on the conversation.

  “My dear, surely you understand that the example you need to set is different than that of your brothers. Your role is important, too, just in a different way.”

  You pompous ass, Elizabeth thought. Placing the wayward pea on her fork, she aimed the tines across the table at Lord Gavell’s annoying cleft chin, only to drop the utensil as her father rushed through the doorway.

  Before anyone could rise from their seats, her mother began to scold. “Where have you been, Raulf? Our visit from Lord Gavell and his mother has been planned for a month! And here you show up late…” Her voice trailed off as she took in her husband’s appearance. His hair was rumpled, as if he’d run his hands through it in agitation, and his cheeks were flushed.

  The king of Arcaern crossed to the table and lowered himself heavily onto the edge of his seat. With a pained sound, he cleared his throat. “There is a situation on our border with the rock giants.”

  Lady Gavell sighed dramatically. “I don’t know what the giants hope to accomplish with these pointless raids. At most they’ve scared a few peasants, but they ought to realize by now that we’re not going to leave.”

  Elizabeth frowned. This couldn’t be just another tentative raid on one of their western settlements that ended with a few burned fields and outraged farmers. She had watched her father manage Arcaern with careful control her entire life. Now he was showing far too much emotion in front of their guests, even if the dowager and her son were too unobservant to realize it yet.

  Elizabeth looked into her father’s eyes from across the table, and she could read anger swirling in them, along with…shock?

  Elizabeth’s father scowled down the table at Lady Gavell. “This time I’m afraid their attack was more violent than usual.” He looked at Elizabeth and she thought she saw his eyes shimmer before he turned to the queen and cleared his throat a second time.

  Clasping his wife’s hands in his own, he said, “Crown Prince Nicholas’s tour took him to the western border last week. He was to meet with the rock giants and come to a peaceful arrangement. The beasts ambushed the party and slaughtered everyone. Their bodies were dropped at the nearest Arcaern settlement.”

  Elizabeth found herself standing without even remembering pushing back from the table. The chair clattered noisily to the stone floor behind her. She tried to breathe, but the world had suddenly shrunk down, too small to hold her.

  Dimly, she heard Lady Gavell and her insufferable son offering quiet condolences, but everything around her had become muted, distant. In contrast, her body seemed to have a heightened sensitivity. She could feel a sucking hole in her chest, like the memory of Nicholas was being ripped away from her physically. Her older brothers were twins, but Nicholas had been born just a few minutes before Peter, and he had always worn his role as the eldest sibling with a seriousness and grace that she knew would make him a great king one day.

  Elizabeth took in a sharp breath, gasping against the pain of the emptying space in her chest. Dear Nicholas was gone. As the eldest, he grew up watching over her, helping her sneak out from etiquette lessons to play in the gardens or race their horses through the nearby fields. And whenever there was a punishment from their father, Nicholas would claim everything was his idea and take the blame.

  Her father looked up, and a glimmer of moisture flickered briefly in his eyes, but with one quick movement, he blinked the tears away. The tension with the rock giants had escalated into full-scale aggression, and he needed to deal with the threat to his country. Within a moment, he had pushed the grief down, and only anger and determination remained.

  Dropping the queen’s hands, he said, "I have to discuss the situation with my advisors. Lord Gavell, as one of the western lords, I would appreciate your input as well.”

  Lord Gavell inclined his head. “Of course, your majesty.”

  The two men rose. Elizabeth felt heat flare up in her chest, filling the emptiness. Nicholas had always been so understanding, talking about negotiating a peaceful resolution with the rock giants. As her father had said all along, though, the rock giants were beasts. As Nicholas had proved so dearly, such creatures couldn’t be reasoned with.

  The fire inside her blazed, burning away the emptiness and returning her senses. Elizabeth stepped into her father’s path, before he could exit the room.

  “Father, let me join the council this time. I know as much as your other advisors. You know that Nicholas…” Elizabeth stumbled at her brother’s name. “You know that Nicholas always shared the talks with me privately.”

  Elizabeth’s father scowled. “Yes, your discussions. And afterward, Nicholas would always return to me and advocate a negotiation with the rock giants – a peaceful resolution. Look how that turned out, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth flushed, but with anger, not embarrassment. Nicholas had been driven by his own feelings, and he wasn’t the only one on the council to express those opinions! Before she could reply, her father bit off, “You will stay with Lady Gavell and your mother. If we have any need for your advice,” he said raising an eyebrow, “We will send for you.”

  Furious, Elizabeth watched her father leave, Lord Gavell trotting behind. The arrogant man shot her a condescending look, as though she were a child who had overstepped her bounds. Whirling, Elizabeth saw Lady Gavell clucking to her mother, who continued to sit unmoving since receiving the news of her firstborn’s fate. Leaving her to the care of the dowager, Elizabeth fled the room.

  She refused to sit around w
aiting for news from the council. Instead, she headed for the stables. Maybe a hard ride would clear the blazing anger and allow her to think clearly. She was determined to find a way to avenge Nicholas, and she wouldn’t let the council, or her father, stand in her way.

  A week later, Elizabeth raced down the passageway to her father’s council chambers. She had just finished a ride and smelled, as her mother would say while shaking her head in disapproval, of horses and sunshine.

  Elizabeth didn’t stop by her rooms to change, though. An envoy from Sardarn had arrived while she was out, and she couldn’t wait to find out their response to Arcaern’s plea for military assistance.

  Sardarn lay directly to the east, and they kept a large and well-trained standing army. Elizabeth’s father had managed to maintain a courteous, if not exactly friendly, relationship with Sardarn for over two decades.

  Since first coming to power, King Edward had been content to expand his borders to the east, overthrowing several adjacent kingdoms and nearly tripling his country’s size. The imposing mountains that marked the border between Arcaern and Sardarn made Arcaern a less appealing target and had helped keep the tenuous peace between them.

  Soon after Nicholas’ death, Elizabeth had cornered her brother, Peter, and bullied him into asking the council to negotiate with Sardarn for military assistance. It was a risk to invite their troops into Arcaern, but King Raulf simply didn’t have enough trained men to combat the brutal assault from the rock giants.

  Since attacking Nicholas’s diplomatic party, the beasts had increased the violence of their raids. There were reports of farmers caught working in the fields and burned alive, families dragged out of their homes in the middle of the night and slaughtered, even the children.

  The council had issued a mandatory draft, but the training of so many new men would take time. Which left Sardarn as a necessary ally and left Elizabeth coaching her brother in what to say to encourage the council to reach out to them.

  Although the same age as Nicholas, Peter had always taken an uninterested role in the council, comfortable in the knowledge that the crown would pass to his brother and then to one of his brother’s sons. Peter had left the statecraft to his brother early on, abandoning the stuffy castle walls to train instead with the guardsmen. He had proven himself as a fierce opponent on the training grounds, and had become a welcome companion in the guard house, soaking up stories from grizzled veterans and learning strategy and tactics from the officers.

  Finding himself now in the position as Arcaern’s next ruler, Peter didn’t know how to handle the increased scrutiny of his peers, who wondered how well he would step into his brother’s shoes to lead their country. He would grow to a great general one day, but a good fighter did not make a good king. Feeling awkward in his new role, he gratefully took Elizabeth’s advice to the council as his own idea, happy to have something to offer to the discussions.

  Lost in her thoughts and planning how best to gain entrance to her father’s chambers, Elizabeth dashed recklessly around the final turn and nearly ran into Lord Gavell. Swaying, he caught his balance quickly and steadied her with a hand at her waist. Startled by her sudden appearance, he cried out.

  “Elizabeth! What are you doing down here? You should be resting in your rooms.” He raised his hand from her waist and raised it to her face, taking in her flushed cheeks and disheveled braids. “You will make yourself ill, exerting yourself like this. Come, let me escort you to your chambers”

  Elizabeth drew back, but Gavell’s other hand closed securely on her wrist. Refusing to struggle, she glared hotly at the young lord. She could read past the thin veneer of concern on his face. Since Nicholas’s death, he had increased his attentions. Her short excursions on her mare had been her only escape.

  Shortly, she bit off, “I can take care of myself, Lord Gavell. I have no need of your attentions. Now, let me pass. The envoy from Sardarn has arrived, and I wish to learn if they have agreed to help us fight the giants.” Raising an eyebrow, she said, “Right now we need every man we can get. Remind me, my lord, when were you planning on joining the men at the front?”

  Lord Gavell flushed, stung by her words, and released her with a frown.

  “As I’ve mentioned before, I believe I am more useful to your father here during negotiations. I have, of course, sent along all available men from my landholding.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth smoothed the front of her gown. “It was the least you could do.”

  Gavell frowned at the sheathed insult. Wishing to end the conversation, she brushed past him toward the doors to her father’s council room, walking sedately now, with her head held high.

  “I can understand your eagerness to see justice done to those brutes after your brother’s torture,” Lord Gavell remarked. “The lord chamberlain told me that his highness was barely recognizable when the beasts deposited his body, there were so many wounds upon it.”

  Elizabeth whirled, but Gavell was already walking away. She bit back a sob. What a cowardly, cruel man! She would never marry him, and she would see to it that her parents removed their favor from the Gavell family.

  Choking down tears, Elizabeth refocused on the closed council doors. She could hear voices faintly inside. She startled when her mother's querulous tone suddenly rose above the others. Her mother hadn’t left her rooms since the news of Nicholas’s death, and she rarely engaged in matters of state, usually leaving the conversations to her husband and his councilors. Her curiosity piqued. Whatever they were discussing, it bothered her mother immensely.

  Elizabeth heard a thump, and her mother quieted. Elizabeth could make out her father’s baritone voice rumbling behind the door, soft but urgent. Deeming it unwise to intrude at that moment, Elizabeth waited outside the chamber, struggling to make out any words, but unable to make them out through the thick wood of the door.

  Elizabeth heard the scraping of a chair being pushed back, and she leapt away from the door. A moment later her father emerged. He came to a halt when he noticed her standing in the hall. He raised an eyebrow, but he did not seem surprised to see her. He smiled half-heartedly and beckoned for her to come forward. “Elizabeth.I was just about to send for you.”

  “You were?”

  “Please, come in and join us.”

  Placing his hand on her shoulder, he guided her through the door. This chamber often served as her father’s council room, and a large table sat in the middle, with several empty seats.

  Elizabeth’s mother and an unknown man – probably the envoy – sat across the table from each other. Her mother wiped tears away from her face and gave Elizabeth a shaky smile.

  The envoy rose and bowed to Elizabeth. He was tall but stocky, a surprisingly well-built man, considering his occupation. Elizabeth was used to diplomats who looked more scholarly.

  “Elizabeth, allow me to introduce Lord Walter. He is here to speak on behalf of the king of Sardarn. Lord Walter, my daughter, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth and her father sat on either side of the queen, and the envoy returned to his seat across the table.

  Quickly, her father filled her in. “Lord Walter has informed us that the king of Sardarn doesn't want to get involved.” He paused and picked up a piece of parchment paper. “However, he has a proposition.” Her father reached across her mother’s lap and handed her the paper.

  Elizabeth unfolded it and began to skim over the contents while her father summarized the missive.

  “He will help us…if we unite the kingdoms in marriage.” Elizabeth looked up, and the letter fell from her hands. “He has a son, a little older than you, who remains unattached. If you marry him, the king of Sardarn promises to send soldiers to assist us in our war with the rock giants.”

  Her mother slammed an open palm against the table, making Elizabeth jump. She glanced over at her mother in surprise.

  “It is ridiculous to send our daughter off to a group of people she has never met. She should be married to a proper Arcaern noble and
live among her people, not be sent off to another country. We won't see her again.” Her face crumpled, and with it, her brief fit of strength. She wilted into her seat, placing one hand over Elizabeth's and crying into her handkerchief with the other.

  Elizabeth's heart ached at her mother’s obvious grief. It would be like losing another child, so soon after Nicholas.

  The king watched his wife sternly. Although she never spoke against him, he seemed unsurprised by both her outburst and her words. “Diana, pull yourself together and look at this rationally. If she doesn't marry him, she might never get the chance to have a wedding. The rock giants haven’t been satisfied with the land they’ve acquired. They just keep pressing forward!” He glanced at the envoy pointedly, and the man politely inclined his head and went to stand at a side table on the other side of the chamber, where he began to shuffle papers.

  Lowering his voice and leaning in, the king looked into Elizabeth’s eyes and flatly stated, “Soon we won't have Arcaern to rule over.”

  Elizabeth blinked. It was her king, and not her father speaking right now. “It's the only way?” she asked with a shaking voice. Her fingers clutched the folds of her dress. Her body felt warm, light, far away.

  “Yes. We’ve known tensions with the rock giants existed, but we didn’t realize they were planning a full-on attack. This has been years in the making, and we just don’t have the trained men to handle it.” Elizabeth’s father ran his fingers through his hair. “Sardarn is highly militarized. They have a large force of skilled soldiers. If they assist us, our victory against the giants is assured.” He looked deep into her eyes. “And a royal alliance will help insure the Sardarnians leave afterward.”

  The warm feeling in her chest grew, replacing the emptiness that had been there since Nicolas died. She wanted the giants to pay, and this marriage would make that possible. She picked up the letter, folded it, and placed it firmly in her father’s hands.

  “Then I will marry the prince of Sardarn.”