Firewalk (9 page)

“Yes?”

“It’s me.” Randon said hesitantly. “May I come in?”

Kayli gaped. What sort of land was it where a lord must ask permission to enter his own chambers? But of course, she realized, he was only trying to be considerate.

“Of course, my lord,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.

Randon stepped quietly into the sitting room—he was carrying a covered tray—and closed the door behind him. He gazed gravely at Kayli’s face, peeping from the crack of the bedroom door, and at last said gently, “Am I to stay here, or would you like to open that door, too?”

Kayli felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she hurriedly stepped back, opening the door.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she murmured, hating the quaver in her voice. Why, hardly two weeks ago she’d deemed herself ready for her first firewalk, ready to entrust her life to the forge fire. What had she to fear from this man, compared with that?

Randon laid the tray on the bedside table.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but I wish you’d use my name and stop my-lording me.” He grinned a little sheepishly. “You’re not one of the servants, you know.”

“I beg your pardon, my—Randon,” Kayli said embarrassedly. By the Flame, how much more of a puling idiot could she make herself seem? “In Bregond, it would—” She stopped. What did Bregondish custom matter? She lived in Agrond now. She would likely never see Bregond again.

Randon stepped to Kayli’s side and took her hands, drawing her into the half circle of firelight.

“Try again,” he said, still smiling.

“Randon,” Kayli said, forcing a small smile. In the firelight, his green eyes seemed touched with gold.

“I like the way you say my name,” Randon said softly. “Kayli. My bride.” He lifted one hand and ran his fingertips gently over her cheek. “My very lovely bride. But I suppose many men have told you how beautiful you are.”

Only at court, and never unless they thought that saying such a thing would gain them something. And then, of course, Terralt, but Kayli would say nothing of that, either.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

Her brief response seemed to perplex Randon, and he frowned slightly, turning to the fire, perhaps to cover his confusion.

“I brought up a late supper,” he said. “I thought you’d like something to eat, after fasting so long.”

“I—not now, thank you,” Kayli said politely. Truth to tell, this moment was the first since she’d left Bregond when she felt no hunger at all.

“You know, Kayli, however anxious my father’s ministers are for me to father an heir,” Randon said awkwardly, “I’m not so impatient to bed you that we can’t spare a few days to let you settle in here, if that makes you feel less anxious. Pardon me for speaking so plainly, but you seem so quiet, so frightened.”

Kayli gaped openly at his words, the concerned expression in his eyes. Suddenly the whole situation seemed utterly ridiculous—here she was, standing on the hearth in her nightrail with a man she didn’t even know, half-starved and faint with fasting, terrified that he couldn’t succeed in Awakening her, Randon fretting that she was afraid of her first coupling, and all the while his brother and his ministers likely standing in the hall with their ears pressed to the door, laying wagers on whether or not the Heir to Agrond would succeed in putting his wife’s belly up! Kayli chuckled, then laughed helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Randon raised his eyebrows, then chuckled, too.

“I beg your pardon,” he said gravely. “I’m glad you find my selflessness so amusing.”

That made it all the funnier, and sent Kayli into a new fit of laughter; it was some minutes before she was able to speak.

“Please forgive me,” Kayli gasped. “I only thought—so many people concerned with the outcome of our coupling, while we stand here not knowing what to say to each other—”

“—while my advisers pray to the gods you’ll conceive, and Terralt prays that you won’t,” Randon finished, chuckling. “Gods, it
is
ludicrous, isn’t it? You ought to stand by the window and scream your head off; then the guards standing listening underneath will think I’m doing my job. And then when they’re all gathered out there to listen, we’ll empty the chamber pot onto their heads.”

That set Kayli off again, and this time Randon joined her, the two of them laughing until at last their chuckles died away from lack of breath.

“Well, let them all mutter and wonder,” Randon said at last, gazing into Kayli’s eyes. “I’ll leave the rest of the world outside the door if you will.”

Kayli sighed, her amusement gone as abruptly as it had come. For a moment she desperately wanted to tell Randon everything, her fears, the importance of her Awakening—

Enough,
she thought suddenly.
Enough. I can bear to fast for one more day. Tomorrow is soon enough for my Awakening. I deserve
—we
deserve
—
one night all our own.

“I beg your pardon, my lord—Randon,” Kayli corrected hurriedly, smiling. “And I thank you for your consideration. But the truth is that I must fast until we have consummated our marriage, so your forbearance is unnecessary—unless it is your will that I starve to death, that is.”

Randon chuckled, but shook his head.

“How unkind of your Order,” he said wryly.

“It has nothing to do with kindness,” Kayli said defensively. “The fasting and potions are an important preparation. In the Order, my first coupling would have been a very special ritual, most... sacred.”

Randon smiled and sat down on the furs, drawing Kayli down beside him. “It will be,” he said. “I promise.” He took Kayli’s hand and traced his finger gently over her fingertips, turning her hand in the firelight to gaze at the palm, then the back.

“Why so many scars on your hands?” he murmured.

Kayli glanced at her hand and cringed a little inwardly. Her hands were crisscrossed with scars, dappled with healed burns. Of those born with the mage-gift, the Order of the Inner Flame received the fewest novices, for the simple reason that the Flame allowed for no mistakes. Her hands were no longer a lady’s hands; they were the strong, scarred hands of a novice mage who had paid dearly for her skills. They were Kayli’s silent boast, a reminder of all she had accomplished at such a cost

That sudden knowledge brought a rush of confidence. This time Kayli was able to reach into the fire and pick up a burning stick, bringing it out for Randon to see.

“This is simple for me now,” she said. “But it took me many failures to learn.”

Randon waited until she put the stick back, then took her hand again, kissing her fingertips.

“Magical hands,” he murmured. Randon’s lips brushed the thin skin of her inner wrist, just where her pulse beat, and his fingers slid down her forearm to the inner bend of her elbow with a feather touch. Kayli shivered with the sensation, her stomach seeming to shiver, too.

“You’re very quiet,” Randon said with a smile. “Do you find me so repulsive, or are you so frightened?”

Kayli was silent, unsure what Randon wanted her to say. Repulsive? Clearly he knew better. Frightened? Of coupling? There was always a little pain at first, she knew, but it could not rival the burn of a hot coal when her concentration wavered. But failure, of a lifetime of wasted hopes—

“I
am
frightened,” Kayli said honestly. “A bit.”

Randon pulled her down to the hearth furs, and the gentle touch of his fingers through her robe, then under it, left tingling trails over her skin.

“I know little enough about being a High Lord, or a husband,” Randon murmured gently. “But in these matters, at least, I’m confident of my skill.” He bent to kiss her.

The lighting of the fire. The first mystical spark, drawn from the heart of flint and steel, leaps to tinder and flares alight. One moment where the universe hangs suspended, while the Flame, in its most elemental form, is conjured from nothing.

For her own part, Kayli could only gasp and marvel at the wonder of it as Randon’s fingers and lips fanned the spark in her body into flame, fanned flame into fire, fanned fire into an all-consuming conflagration. Her Awakening, Randon’s heir, their marriage, the alliance between their countries—all those things were consumed and obliterated in the inferno sweeping through her body. It was her first firewalk, and more—she lived in the heart of the Flame itself, and it burned within her body and all around her, a bright and searing pleasure that was a sort of agony itself. Even the brief small pain when Randon entered her body was only fuel for that fire.

For a moment Kayli knew true fear. In the temple she had always been taught that loss of control could mean horrible death. Now she could only helplessly wonder—when she could manage to think at all—what Randon had unleashed within her. She could only surrender completely to that flame, and that very surrender, that heedless immolation, was utterly glorious.

In the wake of the fire, peace. Randon’s skin was warm and slippery against hers, the beat of his heart slow and strong. There was a slight, not unpleasant ache between her thighs.

“Not as bad as you imagined, eh?” Randon said gently, bending to kiss the sweat from her upper lip.

“I never believed it would be bad,” Kayli said honestly. “But I never supposed it would be so—” She hesitated.

“So what?” Randon grinned. “Magnificent?”

“—so consuming,” Kayli finished, smiling.

“It very nearly was.” Randon reached to one side and held up his fingers. They were blackened with soot. “The furs are singed all around us. Some sparks must have flown out from the hearth. We’re lucky we weren’t burned.”

Kayli pushed Randon aside and sat up, gazing with dismay at the singed area that surrounded them. She was glad that in the firelight Randon could not see the flush of her cheeks. She suspected that the fire that burned the fur had not come from the fireplace. Well, at least the waiting was over.

“What’s the matter?” Randon asked.

“We—we should get up,” Kayli said. “There may be more sparks. And I would like to wash, if I may.”

“Of course.” Randon nodded at the large copper jars flanking the fireplace. “Those are filled with water. It should be warm now. Unless you’d like me to have the servants draw a bath for you?”

“That will be unnecessary, thank you.” The thought of servants coming into the room now seemed indecent. Kayli took the cloth that Randon handed her and made a hasty toilet, retrieving her robe when she was finished. She was a little embarrassed to find Randon, robed again also, sitting at the small table and watching her.

“I thought you were starving,” Randon said, amused. “As we’ve ‘consummated our marriage,’ don’t you want to have a little of the supper I so kindly brought up for you?”

Kayli’s stomach growled at the very thought, and she joined Randon at the table. No food had ever tasted so good as the cold roast meat and hearty cheese, the fine soft rolls and butter, and the strange new fruits. She ate for several minutes before she realized, to her humiliation, that Randon had eaten nothing; instead he’d been watching her, an expression of amusement mixed with concern on his face.

“Don’t mind me,” Randon said good-naturedly when Kayli abruptly stopped eating, wiping her lips and fingers self-consciously. “I had plenty of supper. To be truthful, I’m relieved to see you with an appetite after your illness and your difficult journey. Stevann worried at your thinness.”

Kayli reached for more meat, this time eating slowly.

“There was no need for concern,” she said. “At the Order, fasting was a common practice. I am accustomed to it”

“You’ve been ill, and you’re thin,” Randon corrected. “And the anxiety of traveling to a new country under such circumstances couldn’t have helped.”

Kayli chuckled even as she helped herself to another thick wedge of cheese. What a puling, frail thing he must think her!

“I beg your pardon, my lord husband,” she said gently. “But did I seem so weak and sickly only moments ago on the furs before the fire? To hear you speak, one would think me standing with one foot in the Hidden Realms already.”

“I beg your pardon.” Randon said ruefully. “I’m only trying to be a good husband. If only I knew how.”

Kayli wiped her fingers, then touched his hand.

“I would suggest you have made a fair start at it.” She smiled, flushing a little as she remembered their passion.

“And we stay here for three days?” Randon asked, smiling. “I suppose I’ll have time to learn a great deal in those three days. And so will you.”

Kayli lowered her eyes.

“Endra was lying,” she said. “Bregond has no such custom.”

“Well, nobody needs to know that, do they?” Randon chuckled. “A little time alone together isn’t such a bad idea. And truth to tell, I’ve been so wretchedly busy since Father died, I’ve hardly had a chance to draw breath. Three days to become acquainted with my new bride and relax in my rooms just suits me. Unless you’ll find it too confining?”

Kayli chuckled.

“I have spent most of my days in small, windowless stone rooms and smoky forges,” she said. “Compared to that, these rooms are as open and spacious as the wide plains with the wind blowing through the grass.”

“You describe it well,” Randon said, sipping wine. “I envied Terralt his chance to see fabled Bregond. Although to hear him talk about it afterward, it wasn’t such a marvelous place as our legends said.”

“A marvelous place?” Kayli smiled at the thought. “Bregond is a harsh land, I suppose. The soil is poor, rocky, and dry, and water holes are few. Little grows there besides brambles and grasses sharp enough to cut flesh. But it is a great and ancient land with magic in its bones, and at the moment when the sun rises, spilling blood and gold over the plains, when the wind in the grass whispers secrets to those who have learned to listen, I know in my heart that there can be no other place where the spark of life burns more brightly. It is a land that demands much of us, but it gives much in return, even though its gifts are gifts of the spirit, not readily visible.”

“You make it sound very special.” Randon’s eyes sparkled in the firelight. “All our tales would have the Bregondish a race of warriors and mages and little else. I suppose it must be a magical land indeed to spawn such a folk.”