Fervor (The Fervor Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

“Rise, Princess Caprice Nue’mon of the Glissante. Let me lay my eyes upon you after so many months apart.”

Grateful and fighting the urge to shoot to her feet, she slowly rose, gritting her teeth as the room spun in front of her. Glancing up, and then further up, she first saw her father’s diamond encrusted shoes. His throne sat high above the courtyard, ensuring his subjects remained beneath him, even while he sat.

Caprice studied him, struck again at how he was the perfect physical example of an Ice King. He sat, unmoving, willowy and regal, with white-blond hair and ice-blue eyes.

“My King, what an honor to be here in your presence. How went your travels?” Her hands were placed in front of her, lightly clasped. She schooled her features into a blank stare. No expression, only hollow words fell from her lips.

“Quite well.” He snapped his fingers.
One, two, three.
“But let us focus on tonight. We have quite the crowd. The Vendri have traveled far to witness this momentous occasion.”

Caprice did not turn her head, knowing never to take her attention from her father. She’d learned that particular lesson the hard way. “I saw them from above, My King. They are here, foremost, to pay tribute to you, but I am honored you believe otherwise.”

Waving a dismissive hand, his face a perfect blank, he said, “Of course they pay tribute to me. However, today is a special day. Have you prepared fully? Have all the necessary arrangements been made?” He looked around as if expecting an answer from behind him. “Where is the Predominant? Only hours into her new duties and already she is late?”

“It would seem so. Perhaps she does not fully understand the scope of her position?” A fire lit her insides, fury racing through her heart. Just the mention of the Pre-Dom’s name made her want to inflict more pain. Caprice wished the cruel drudge stood before her—she would freeze her face off. “But yes, all of the preparations have been made, My King.”

“Very well. The formal introductions will be made later. You future husband is preparing for the ceremony; he has much to do after hunting with us for the Trade. I have had quite a few months to get to know your Prince. I know you will be pleased. For now, enjoy the new stock we have brought in. There is one piece of meat that is sure to bring a handsome price.”

Caprice’s chair sat to the far left and in front of her father’s. It was set on a much lower pedestal than his. The placement was disconcerting. Caprice never knew exactly what was happening behind her and she couldn’t look back lest she broke protocol. She remained standing to avoid having to sit and feel vulnerable.

Addy floated to her side, adjusting her gown as she passed.

“What was my father alluding to? Do I even want to know?”

“Look for yourself, Mistress.” Addy swept her hand out toward the far end of the courtyard. Against the far wall sat the stage, equipped with clamps, harnesses, and every manner of restraint to allow the aristocracy full view as they bid for their prizes.

Set next to the stage was a cage, the size of which she’d never seen. Unable to catch a full view, she waited impatiently for the crowd to part and give her an unobstructed view. What could it be? Perhaps a wild animal of some sort? Her heart broke at the idea of a majestic beast imprisoned.

Her breath caught on a soft gasp. The crowd moved, and there stood a man, slumped forward, hanging by the manacles that shackled his neck and wrists. He looked to be unconscious, and Caprice wondered if he would strangle himself if someone didn’t release him soon. Her hand fluttered to her throat. Before the reaction could be noted, she pretended to straighten her gown.

Studying the size of the cage, she realized the man must be massive. He towered a foot over her and most of the men of her kingdom. Her heart sped up in her chest, bringing an uncomfortable flush to her cheeks. “I have never seen a man his size.”

Addy leaned in again, careful not to touch her Mistress. “Because of his size and strength, he is rumored to be Fiera—a race who must be descended from giants!”

“G-giants?”

“Just a rumor, Princess. The guards aren’t even one hundred percent sure he is Fiera. There are slight… differences in him.”

Her chest clenched, and she tried not to gulp in great breaths of air. Despite the freezing temperatures, she felt the tiniest flash of warmth. “Differences?”

Addy gave her a strange look and then focused in on the prisoner. “Coloring’s off. Most of the Fiera are rumored to have hair black as night, with eyes to match.”

Because the man was slumped against the chains, with his head pitched forward, it was impossible to see his eye color. All she saw was miles of bronze skin that made her palms itch to rub against him. She wondered at her reaction. Uncomfortable and annoyed that this man was breaking her concentration, she decided to ignore him for the rest of the evening. Sliding her eyes away, she kept her gaze fixed permanently on the heads of the milling aristocracy.

Addy faded back and took her place behind her Mistress. Caprice trusted if any new information came in, Addy would be the first to know. Despite her resolve, it seemed as if only seconds had passed before her eyes darted back to the cage and a group of fawning Vendri surrounding the prisoner.
Simpering idiots.
They were blocking her view—not that she
wanted
to look.

Oh, but she couldn’t resist. Rising, she strode forward, Addy scampering by her side. The princess felt her friend’s surprise. Her actions were highly unusual, but her father had bade her look at the Fiera, so she would look.

The crowd parted immediately. They bowed as she passed, acting as if they moved out of reverence, but she knew they were motivated by fear. They dare not touch for so many reasons, most of which would entail their death.

Approaching the cage, Caprice fought to catch her breath, for once forgetting about the painful shards of glass imbedded in her skin. The giant hung from the manacles, unconscious and bent forward because his height dwarfed the cage. His head was pressed against the bars and his hands hung forward between the slats.

He looked so menacing, yet vulnerable, almost as if he were sleeping. The dried blood on the side of his head told a different story—they had bludgeoned him. A familiar fury started to grow and she looked for the nearest guard. The closest two were bringing in a new captive, a scrawny man that fought with every inch of his life. Once he laid eyes upon the sleeping giant and the swarming Vendri, the man shoved one of the guards and he flew across the space, slamming into her side.

A crowd gasped, the sound floating through the courtyard. Caprice fell forward against the cage, her hand flying out to find purchase and ended up entangling in the Giant’s hair. The silky strands coasted over her palm and a shiver raced up her arm. She disentangled her hands, but tripped on her gown and fell forward again. Her skin pinched between the bars, causing the top of her breasts to smash directly into the Giant’s face.

She swore she felt a small flutter against her chest as his mouth moved ever so gently against her breast.

Oh Gods, the warmth of his skin!
It felt like nothing she’d ever touched, and she fought the urge to sink in further, desperate to know his heat. Closing her eyes, she put one hand on the bar, then the other, for once not caring what anyone thought of her propriety. She rose and backed away. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. The guard that had bumped into her, hovered, continually asking if she was well. Thank the gods he had only fallen against her gown or he would have been put to death. Worse still, Caprice would have had to freeze him in order to keep her secret. She felt confident none of the Vendri had seen her brush the Giant.

Refusing to meet anyone’s eye, she turned away and made the long walk back to the throne. They had witnessed her fall; she dared anyone to say a word about it.

When she finally reached her seat, an incredulous Addy at her side, Caprice braced herself for the disdainful looks, for the whispers until she realized—not one eye had turned toward her. No one was paying any attention. Instead they faced the stage. Turning slowly, an impending sense of doom settling over her as anticipation tightened her glass-covered skin, she gasped at what she saw.

The Giant had risen.

‡

A
whiny high-pitched
shriek reverberated through the courtyard, the tell tale sign of metal being torn asunder. The sound was so loud, Caprice became convinced the glass ceiling would shatter from the force. The prisoner was escaping. Before she could move, guards poured in from every door and swallowed the king in their swarm. Their main focus was always her father, which gave her a chance to pull Addy to the side and hide them behind a large tapestry against the wall.

The Vendri scattered, screeching and squealing as they raced around the courtyard like ice-roaches. Caprice held back a bitter laugh.
So much for the fabled calm of the Glissante.
Where was the frost in their hearts? They were supposed to be dispassionate about any situation, unless, of course, a raging giant was about to smash them like flakes under his shoe.

Peeking around the curtain, she tried to get a better view of all the commotion.

“Prin, get back! What if someone sees you?” Addy pulled at the train of her dress, careful to remain behind her Mistress.

“See me? Like who? The frightened Vendri scurrying into their holes like snow-rats? I want to get a look—”

She had no view. Desperate to see him, she stepped forward, fear racing through her veins.

There he stood.

It was as if time slowed, moving by at half speed. Vaguely, she acknowledged Addy, the Vendri, the fallen guards, looking like broken toys scattered across the floor, only to be replaced by new guards rushing in to take their place. But nothing,
nothing
could keep her gaze from the slave—No, not a slave, but a towering giant of a
man
who looked to be lit from within.

Fascinated and with a full courtyard between them, she watched him battle two, three, even four guards at a time. Taking one step closer, then another, she felt compelled to get near him. His sweat-covered skin shone bronze in the torchlight.

Fist clenched, he slammed the broken chains hanging from his wrists into two guards’ faces. He stood, growling, as if to taunt them. In profile—
My gods!
—he was magnificent, the tallest and
widest
man she’d ever seen. He must be a full head taller than her.

Dark pants made of thick black material hung low on his hips. Tight, black bands crisscrossed his bare chest and smaller bands wrapped tight around his bulging biceps. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart banging strong enough to burst past her breasts. His chest and stomach were… indescribable. Is this what a man was meant to look like under his clothes? She had always burned to know the answer.

Mounds and valleys, smooth muscled dips and turns checkered his front. If she could just get closer she would discover if he smelled as delicious as he looked.

Delicious?
Had she lost her mind? She knew she was not showing the decorum expected of a future queen but for this once, in this minute, facing the defiant man,
she didn’t care.
That admission should have scared her more than any other, but she couldn’t stop staring. A flying guard landed inches from her, and still she did not step back. The Giant must have heard her because his body. Finally, she was able to look upon him.

His face. She had thought nothing could compare to his body, but the slash of his brow and the jut of his chin had her aching for more. Even with a split lip and a black eye, he was temptation incarnate. His short, dark-red hair had patches that caught the flickering light, reminding her of a rare ruby. His eyes, they somehow matched his hair. Not black, or yellow but a whiskey brown that made her long to step just a little closer.

Half the courtyard lay between them, but she felt his eyes traveling over her body. Strange sensations of warmth filled her chest and cheeks. The feelings confused her, made her wonder if the entire kingdom might be watching this exchange. Not trusting herself, afraid she might reveal too much, she turned away.

Mid turn, she heard the roar. Slow motion lurched back into real time. No longer caught in the bubble of her imagination, chaos resumed and sound came flooding back. People were screaming, crying, begging for their lives. Guards grunted as they hit the ground, and the metallic smell of blood invaded her nose.

Hearing his shout hurt her heart, but what she saw almost brought her to her knees. The giant had his head thrown back, screaming to the heavens. When his head snapped forward, his hair lifted and stood on end, undulating in strange waves over his skull. The bronze of his skin took on a luminescent glow, growing brighter by the second and his eyes…

They changed.

The warm whiskey color—gone. Instead, milky-white bled over his eyes, obscuring pupil and cornea.

His palms cupped his eyes, and he crouched momentarily until the guards pounced. Ten men piled on top and in a burst of light, the group flew back, singed and burned from the light.