Heart of Fire (20 page)

“Put your clothes on right
now!”

“Stop looking.” At that, he laughed
so hard he almost fell over.

Jessalyne turned away, clamping her
hand over her eyes.

“Aye, small glimpses are best at
first. I am told 'tis quite overwhelming to see all of me at
once.”

The bed sank as he sprawled next to
her.

“Let’s have a kiss before bed,
hmmm?” He slurred. “So beautiful...” His fingers skimmed her
arm.

She stiffened at the touch that had
so recently filled her with pleasure. How could he be so tender one
moment and so wretched the next? She couldn’t take it any longer.
Turning to face him, she snapped. “Stop this behavior or...or...I
will set you on fire.”

He blinked, reeling back at her
words. Blank faced, he stared at her for a moment then erupted in
laughter. “Saucy wench! Games, is it?” He swept her into his arms
and made to kiss her.

She cried out to him in her mind,
begging him to stop.

As if struck, he pulled back. “No
need to yell, sweeting.”

“Ertemis, please, this isn’t you.
It’s the ale and your hurt feelings.” She held his face in her
hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Hurt feelings? Assassins don’t have
feelings, silly girl.” He went an odd shade of greenish grey. For a
moment, she thought he might retch. “I would never hurt you,
lelaya. Never.” Grabbing one of the bedposts, he hoisted himself
up, lurched to the other side of the bed and collapsed face first
onto the coverlet.

She stared at the naked, besotted
elf snoring beside her. In all her dreams of the future, never had
she imagined this.

Chapter Nine

A bird twittered on the windowsill,
waking Jessalyne. Yawning, she stretched and propped herself up on
her elbows. Ertemis hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen.

In the golden glow of firstlight,
she studied him. Despite all that had passed between them the night
before, she still found him fascinating. His luminous soot-dark
skin and muscled curves mesmerized her and for once, she looked as
much as she wanted. She was as bad as Corah. Pity, he was such a
barbarian. She sighed. Did it matter if he was a barbarian? If not
for her mother’s letter, she’d be curled around him, as naked as
the day she was born. Wouldn’t she?

Blushing at her bold thoughts, she
slipped out of bed before she did something foolish. It wouldn’t do
to have him wake up and find her hands tracing the runes along his
spine, trailing down to cup his... Enough. She forced the thought
out of her head.

Breakfast would be here soon, and
the room was a mess. She righted the chair he’d tipped over and
snatched his tunic off a bedpost. His trousers were crumpled
beneath the table. She laid his clothes over a chair on his side of
the bed.

One of his boots sat squarely in the
tureen. She pulled it out and wiped off the traces of soup. Just as
she put the pair by the door and leaned his sword against the wall,
there were two sharp taps on the door. Breakfast had
arrived.

On her way to let the valet in, she
yanked the bed curtains shut. No need for the man to see Ertemis
lying there naked. Besides, she would never manage breakfast with
the elf’s bare rump in plain sight. Her gaze lingered on the
offending body parts. No, it simply would not do.

Another sharp knock. She hurried to
the door. “Quietly please,” she whispered. “He still
sleeps.”

The steward nodded and quickly
removed the dinner dishes and laid the morning’s repast on the
table. He gave her a short bow and left, shutting the door softly
behind him.

She poured a mug of tea. Her stomach
grumbled. She lifted the platter covers to reveal honeycakes,
slices of smoked eel, and baked eggs. How Ertemis slept through the
aroma, she had no idea.

Fixing a plate, she planned to bolt
her breakfast, change out of her nightrobe then walk across the
street to the clothiers she’d seen yesterday. Ertemis would
undoubtedly snore the morning away. He showed no signs of
rousing.

She rummaged through her saddlebags
for a pouch of coins, setting each of the heavy sacks on the table.
The smallest she left on the table, hefting the others in her
hands. Her gaze drifted to Ertemis again. There was one more thing
to take care of before she left.

* * *

The clothier’s shop made mistress
Chara’s seem pitiful. Jessalyne felt the country girl through and
through. Trimmed with embroidery and lace, ribbons and velvet, the
gowns kindled a longing in her for a life never known. She imagined
the ladies in King Maelthorn’s court wore gowns just like these.
She ran her hands over the beautiful fabrics, dreaming of days to
come.

“May I assist you?” A red-haired
woman with a boy’s build approached her. Haughtiness dripped from
her words like grease off a rasher of bacon.

“Yes, thank you. I would like a
dress.”

I see.” The woman’s gaze swept over
Jessalyne, stopping at her neckline. A thin smile crossed the
woman’s lips. “That’s a lovely pendant you’re wearing. Let me
select a few of our finer dresses for you to try, my
lady.”

She clapped her hands and a young
girl scurried out from the back room. “Fetch the new gowns from
Romman.” She turned back to Jessalyne. “Right this way, my
lady.”

The young clerk brought dresses out
one by one for Jessalyne’s approval. Each one was more beautiful
than the next, but the last dress surpassed them all.

“Ohh, that is most lovely,”
Jessalyne said. “I will try that one, please.”

In a flurry of fabric, the sales
women undressed her and fit her into the gown. They led her to a
tall mirror on the rear wall.

Made of luminous sea-green silk, the
dress cut low and straight across Jessalyne’s bosom. Belled sleeves
revealed snug undersleeves of indigo. Matching vines and leaves of
gold crept around the hem and up the front edges of the over skirt,
split down the middle to show the underskirt of indigo silk.
Ribbons of indigo crisscrossed her narrow waist.

“Of course, the look is not complete
without the matching slippers and waist belt.” The red haired woman
tallied the goods on her fingers, smiling. “I’m sure a lady of your
bearing will want every piece necessary.”

Still focused on the image in the
mirror, Jessalyne nodded. “Yes, of course.”

The woman sent the young clerk to
fetch the items and fussed about, smoothing the skirt and
chattering on about the fabric quality until the girl
returned.

“Ah, here we are.” After buckling
the belt around Jessalyne’s waist, she slid Jessalyne’s feet into
the deep green leather slippers. “Lovely. Just lovely. You’ll be
wearing it, I assume? Pity to put your other...outfit back on,” she
sniffed.

“Yes, yes of course.” Jessalyne
couldn’t look away from the mirror. She barely recognized herself.
Because she was looking at the king’s magewoman in
training.

“Now, about your hair. We have some
combs—”

“No. I wear it down.” Let that foul
halfling be reminded of what he’d no longer have.

“As you wish.” The woman barked at
the young clerk to wrap Jessalyne’s things. “Then there just
remains the rather tiresome matter of the bill.”

Jessalyne opened her money pouch,
accidentally spilling two gold coins onto the shop
floor.

The young clerk’s eyes widened. The
woman snatched up the coins, smiling. “That will settle your bill
nicely.”

The innkeeper nodded to Jessalyne
when she returned. “My compliments on your purchase, mistress elf.
You are as lovely as the isle of Elysium is purported to be. Most
sheyneya,” he said.

She gave him a curious
look.

“I apologize, my grasp of your
mother tongue is weak at best. I thought sheyneya elven for
‘beautiful’.”

“We accent the end not the middle,”
she bluffed. “Very kind of you.” She hurried back to the room
before he got a better look at her ears. Pretending was tricky
business.

Fitting the key in the lock, she
opened the door. Dressed in trousers only, Ertemis stood at the
window. The runes along his spine shone softly. His breakfast sat
uneaten on the table. She shut the door. He said
nothing.

She set her bundled outfit on the
bed and gathered up her other things, packing them into her
saddlebags. She struggled for something to say to him, desperate to
ease the tension. “What does sheyneya mean?”

He answered without turning. “It’s
pronounced shey’naya. It means radiantly beautiful.”

Well, he was speaking to her. “Thank
you.” She packed the last saddlebag and stood by the bed, wondering
what to do next. The silence didn’t bother her so much as the
reason for it. At the very least, he owed her an
apology.

“I’m ready to go.” Perhaps that
would rouse him out of his foul mood. Nothing. “I’m ready to go,”
she raised her voice.

“I heard you the first time.” He
rubbed his brow. ”Must you shout?”

“I wasn’t shouting.” This was going
to be a fun day.

* * *

Ertemis had watched her crossing the
street below, sure he was prepared for the sight of her. He wasn’t.
Even his aching head didn’t diminish her beauty. Shey’neya,
indeed.

Saladan’s trousers, he was such a
fool. She should hate him for how he’d treated her. He groaned at
the ache in his head and the anguish in his heart. She belonged at
court, not his side.

Mortified by how he’d acted, he
still thought it best not to apologize. Let her hate him. Leaving
her in Shaldar City would sting less if she wanted nothing to do
with him. It tore at him not to gather her into his arms and beg
her forgiveness, but he was done making a fool of
himself.

“Well?” She stared at
him.

“Aye, the gown suits you,” he
groused. Her shapeless tunic and overvest had a new
appeal.

“I asked if you were ready to go. I
would like to leave sometime today.” Jessalyne’s eyes sparkled with
irritation.

Good. The more she despised him, the
less this would hurt. He hoped. Scowling at her without answering,
he went to get his tunic. She backed up as he came toward her,
skirting around the table to pour a cup of tea. Her hand shook as
she lifted the teapot.

So that was it. She was finally
afraid of him. “Don’t worry.” The fabric muffled his voice as he
pulled his tunic on. “I’ve learned my place.” He continued
dressing, his back to her. “I said I would not touch you again and
I meant it.” He turned and looked at her directly. “Even if you
beg.”

“I’m not afraid of you and I
wouldn’t beg you for water if I were burning in Hael,” she
snapped.

He threw both their packs over his
shoulder. “I’ll be sure to remember that when I see you there.”
Grinding the heel of his boot into the floor, he moved toward the
door without waiting for her.

She charged after him, muttering
under her breath. When he stopped at the desk, she stormed past and
went outside to wait. He paid the innkeeper, watching through the
window as a groomsman brought Dragon and Petal round. Jessalyne
mounted, ready to be on her way.

Ertemis dawdled inside until her
frustration became evident. From the hard crease of her mouth to
the tapping of her fingers on the saddle, she looked sufficiently
tired of waiting.

He walked outside. “Get
down.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter? I have to put the
saddlebags on.” He didn’t need her to get down to attach the bags
but she wouldn’t know that. Besides, getting her off the saddle
kept distance between them.

She dismounted, sighing loudly.
Standing with her arms crossed, she watched him work.

“Done.” Ertemis lit up onto his
saddle. “Let’s go. I’m tired of waiting for you.”

Her mouth dropped, a low growl
rumbling out of her as she climbed back onto Petal.
“Beast.”

“Princess.”

“Oaf.”

“Brat.”

“Brat? You…you…”

The urge to kiss her nearly unhorsed
him. The angry sparks in her eyes made her more beautiful than
ever. “Come now, surely you can think of better names for such a
wretched creature as myself. Killer of babes, perhaps? Nay, too
wordy. Dunderhead? Perhaps not, as I am, after all, quite clever.
Boor? Aye, that would work nicely. Go ahead, give it a
try.”

She glared daggers. “Incorrigible
reprobate.”

He grinned. “Now, then, I knew you
could do better.”

She ignored him until they left the
confines of town, where she drew her dagger to check what direction
it indicated. “Stay on this road.”

“We’ll reach Shaldar City today.”
Ertemis said.

“Good.” She kneed Petal, leaving him
behind.

His stomach churned like a boy on
his first battle line. He would never see her again after today and
she would loathe him for the rest of her life. It was for the best.
What life could he offer her? Why did she have to smell so good? He
tried to think of anything but her.