Heart of Fire (7 page)

“Well, they belong to someone. They
left before I could get my bearings and find out where my weapons
are.”

“Oh.” She sucked in her cheek in a
most becoming way.

He glanced down. “Were you rushing
up here for a reason or do you normally run barefoot through the
woods?” Maybe she wanted to ask him to stay. Or to kiss
her.

She hitched up her skirt a bit to
look at her feet. They were filthy. Her ankles, however, were
lovely. A sunset glow colored her cheeks as she hastily dropped her
skirt. “I wanted to ask you about how you came to have
Petal.”

“You know the jenny’s
name?”

“Of course. She belongs to my
father.”

The wind from a dragonsprite’s wings
could have knocked Ertemis over. He cleared his throat. “Well, that
answers one question.”

Back at her cottage, Jessalyne’s
stoic demeanor confounded Ertemis as she listened to the news of
her father’s passing. She didn’t wail and bawl expected. Not until
he told her of Haemus’ dying admission did any emotion rise to the
surface.

“He said he knew he hadn’t been a
good father, and he was sorry for it.”

A single tear spilled down her
cheek. She stared at the kitchen table, eyes not really focused.
She made no effort to wipe the tear from her face, just let it
slide off her chin and onto her hands, folded in her
lap.

Ertemis shifted in his chair.
Sobbing and squalling he could have dismissed as typical female
behavior, but her single quiet tear unsettled him. He wasn’t the
comforting type, which mattered little, for comforting didn’t seem
the correct response either. He tried to read her, but the fog was
back. Perhaps the house was warded with a protection spell. Who
would ward a house in the middle of nowhere? Haemus certainly
hadn’t. The man had as much magic as mud.

Jessalyne finally brushed the wet
trail from her cheek and glanced at Ertemis. “What else did he
say?”

He furrowed his brow. “He said it’s
not your fault you are the way you are. What does that
mean?”

She ignored his question and shook
her head. “Nothing.”

“He gave me a key to give to you. I
have it in my packs, on Dragon.”

“A key for what?”

“He said it opened a box under the
garden bench.” Ertemis stood.

Her expression changed to one of
intense curiosity. “Did he say what’s in it? Is it something from
my mother?”

Ertemis saw hope in her eyes. “I
don’t know. I’ll get it.”

Jessalyne flicked a wisp of hair out
of her eyes and stood. “I’ll meet you in the garden.”

Chapter Four

Shovel in hand, Jessalyne smiled as
she approached the stone bench beneath an arbor of her mother’s
climbing roses. The pale pink blooms were almost at the peak of
their beauty. She came here often to sit and inhale the sweet
perfume. After her mother died and her father left, it was
comforting to know at least the roses always came back.

She dropped the shovel, and tried to
pick up the bench. It wouldn’t budge. She shoved it again, trying
to turn it over. Nothing.

Behind her, a throat
cleared.

She spun around, startled. Ertemis
stood behind her, a worn suede pouch in one hand. How did he move
so quietly?

“Need some help?”

“No. I can manage.” Jessalyne
wrapped both arms around the seat and tried to lift
again.

He leaned against the nearest tree.
“I think the sun’s going down.”

“Fine!” She wiped a misting of sweat
off her brow. “You do it.”

“Are you ordering me or asking
me?”

“You offered.”

“And you refused.” He didn’t move
off the tree, his half-lidded gaze sweeping the length of her
before returning to her face.

Obstinate creature. She stood silent
for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Sighing loudly, she stared
skyward. “I’m asking.”

He peeled off the tree and came
toward her. The suede pouch dangled from his fingers. She pointed
at it. “I assume that belongs to me?”

“Aye.” His fingers brushed her palm
as the key tumbled into it. The glancing touch sucked the air out
of her. She squeezed her hand around the key, her traitorous heart
thumping.

Her reaction seemingly unnoticed, he
lifted the bench then grabbed the shovel. Hands that large could
easily encircle her waist. He stomped the spade into the ground
where the bench had been and started digging.

Turning the key in her fingers, she
watched his thick shoulders bunch with the movement. His sleeves
were pushed back, revealing sleek, corded forearms. She cleared her
throat, but not her mind. “I can do that.”

He stabbed the shovel into the dirt
again. It struck something solid.

“Too late.” He dug a bit more then
tossed the shovel aside and dropped to his knees, reaching into the
hole. He cleared the rest of the dirt with his hands, working the
box back and forth until it was loose enough to lift.

Pulling up the box wrapped in
dirt-caked sackcloth, he set it on the ground at her feet. It was
no bigger than a loaf of bread. He clapped the dirt from his hands
as he stood.

She dropped down next to the box and
pulled off the wrapping cloth. The box was as ordinary as the key,
built of unfinished wood, with two hinges on the backside and a
locked clasp on the front. She hugged it to her chest and
stood.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” He
shrugged. “Not that it’s my business.”

“I want to look at it inside.” She
started toward the cottage.

“I’m not leaving until I get my
weapons back.” Ertemis crossed his arms over his broad chest, his
feet planted wide.

“Oh.” She stopped. His trousers
clung to his thighs, outlining legs as muscular and distracting as
the rest of him. “I forgot about that.”

“So I noticed.”

Heat blossomed in her belly like
spring flowers after a warm rain. “I…I have to ring for
Corah.”

He raised a brow.

“You can wait inside.” Inside, with
her. The thought made her shiver, but nothing about her felt
cold.

He looked at the position of the
sun. “Might as well. It’s almost time for you to serve me
supper.”

“Serve you supper?” She scowled, all
thoughts of his muscled shoulders and sleek skin gone. “This is my
home. I am not your servant. The more you speak, the more I regret
saving your life.” The sooner he left, the better.

The lout did nothing to suppress his
laughter as he followed her to the cottage. Just outside her front
door hung a weather-worn bell on a carved post. She yanked the bell
pull twice before hurrying inside. The need to know what the box
held consumed her. She set it on the kitchen table and pulled out a
chair

Ertemis planted himself opposite her
as though he was lord of the manor. She refused to acknowledge him.
He irritated her almost as much as he intrigued her.

The key fit the lock, but she had to
wrench it to break through the rust. The hinges moaned when she
lifted the lid. The unlined box held two items. Beneath an object
wrapped in sackcloth lay a folded leaf of yellowed
parchment.

Jessalyne picked up the object
first. Without unwrapping it, she knew what it was by its shape.
She pulled off the fabric and held in her hand an intricately
etched dagger with a large oval lunestone set at the cross point of
blade and hilt. She slid it from its sheath. The blade bore
unfamiliar runes matching those on the hilt. The handle warmed
quickly in her grasp. There was a lethal beauty to the piece. She
slipped it back into its sheath and set it on the table.

Next, she unfolded the parchment. It
was a letter from her mother. She blinked back tears as she sat.
How long she had wished for a message, a brief note, anything from
her mother? Now she held that anything in her hands.

Dearest Daughter, I have instructed
your father to give this to you on your tenth year. How I wish I
were still there with you. As I sit in the garden writing this, you
play but a few steps from me. I am sure you have become a beautiful
young woman. By now, you know you are gifted. I believe you are
more gifted than even I imagine. I will explain.

Her father had kept this letter from
her, ignoring her mother’s request. Her stomach knotted. She should
have read this many years ago.

All my life, I ached for a child,
but I was not fair of face and found no man willing to wed me.
Being a magewoman did not help, either. Many years passed and my
time for bearing children grew short. I wept to think I would never
have my heart’s desire, but I refused to accept fate’s hand. I
sought aid from the most powerful sorceress I could think of,
Mistress Sryka, magewoman to King Maelthorn. She took pity on me
and gave me the spells and potions I needed. In return, she told me
I must relinquish my child to her as an apprentice when the child
came of age. Of course, my darling, that child is you.

Jessalyne reeled. She was the
product of a sorceress’s spells and potions? She’d never heard of
this Sryka but King Maelthorn was Lord King of Shaldar, so if Sryka
was his magewoman, she must be very powerful indeed. Jessalyne
couldn’t believe she might actually become this woman’s apprentice.
Finally, someone who could explain her gifts to her. She took up
the letter again.

You must travel to her, Jessalyne.
She is a mighty sorceress but she grows old. I think she means to
train you in her stead. According to Sryka, you must remain chaste
or your gifts will disappear. It is not such a grand sacrifice, I
promise you.

Think of it, Jessalyne. Magewoman to
a king! My precious daughter, you will be all that I was
not.

The dagger is a gift from Sryka to
guide you on your journey. In your hand alone, the lunestone will
glow when the blade points toward her.

I am sorry our time together was so
short. The spells Sryka gave me to bind your father to me and gain
you have taxed my strength, but you were worth it. I love you,
Jessalyne. You are my life.

Tears blurred the words as Jessalyne
tried to reread the letter. It ended too soon. She still had so
many questions. Her belly twisted as she pondered what lay ahead of
her. Leaving had suddenly become a reality.

“Well?”

She’d almost forgotten the elf. She
scrubbed her eyes. “It’s from my mother. She died when I was very
young.”

At the word mother, a flicker of
something passed over Ertemis’s face but disappeared before she
could name it. It didn’t matter. She had a journey to pack for. She
would find Sryka and hope the magewoman was still alive and still
wanted her after so long. Maybe Sryka could answer the rest of her
questions.

A rapping at her front door reminded
her she’d rung the bell. She put the letter back in the box, closed
the lid and went to answer the rapping. She opened the door.
Corah’s hand was raised to knock again.

“The elf is gone, then?” Corah was
transparently disappointed.

“Nay, I am not gone yet.” He walked
from behind the door, again coming up so quickly Jessalyne hadn’t
heard him. “Although I would be if those guards had not taken my
weapons.”

Corah stared at him with a coy
smile. “I didn’t know you were still here, Master Elf.”

“Obviously.” He flashed a blinding
grin and rested one brawny arm against the door frame. Why must he
stand so close to her? “Why do you call her lady?”

“You don’t have to answer him,
Corah.” Jessalyne frowned.

“We call her lady as a term of
respect. She is our healer. And our friend.”

Jessalyne made an impatient noise.
“Corah, your father’s men still have his things. Take word to him
that the elf is ready to leave.”

“I’ll tell him.” Corah glanced at
Ertemis again. “But he’s gone to a settle a territory dispute with
the neighboring herd’s Alpha Buck and won’t be back until
morning.”

“Firstlight then. Please tell him I
desire an audience with him and Lady Dauphine at that time
also.”

“Very well.” Corah curtsied,
something Jessalyne knew was entirely for Ertemis’s sake. “Good
evening, Lady Jessalyne and...” This time, she looked up through a
thick fringe of tawny lashes.

“Ertemis.” Jessalyne grimaced at the
girl’s blatant flirting. Sickening.

“Good evening, Master Ertemis.”
Corah completed her curtsey and gave Ertemis one last smile as she
left. Jessalyne rolled her eyes and Ertemis caught her.

“Your friend has impeccable taste in
men. Perhaps she wants company for dinner.” He was close enough
that his spicy scent stroked her skin.

She stepped back. “I’ll be sure to
mention that to her betrothed. There is bread and cheese in the
larder if you’re hungry. I have packing to do.” She turned toward
her bedroom.

“I knew you were smitten with me,
but I had no idea you planned on becoming my traveling companion.
First you undress me, now this. Who knew that innocent face hid
such a saucy wench.” He gave her a wink when she spun
around.