Keepers of the Flame (27 page)

Calli
and Marrec, wearing black and silver, had left their children sleeping and
guarded by the fey-coo-cus to drop by. Calli stared at Elizabeth, murmured. “I
dreamt of a woman—but not you. Don’t know who.” She frowned and shook her head.
“We all dream of this woman.” Calli sniffed. “Rain’s on the way.” Studying
Elizabeth, Calli said slowly, “In the dreams, the smell is of the sea, the
Songs are sea chanties.” She shook her head again. “Not you or Bri.”

Elizabeth
was tired enough to ask, “What is my Song?”

Calli
chuckled. “Like I said, I see auras mostly. You and your Song are like sunrise
over the Rocky Mountains.”

“Thank
you,” Elizabeth said.

“Koz
is fighting,” Marrec said.

Elizabeth
tensed, someone else to worry about. “Where?”

He
pointed to a tiny white shield with a red trident bobbing in the thick of the
action, fighting with Alexa’s force.

Elizabeth
continued to pay close attention to the orangered shields. Faucon and his
people. He was an equal opportunity employer. When she stifled a giggle, she
recognized her exhaustion. But she was reluctant to leave, as if she saw
history in the making. Surely when the Lladranans destroyed this Dark, Songs
would be Sung, stories would be told forever. Lorebooks would be written.

Both
Calli and Marrec kissed her cheek before they left.

No
one told Elizabeth to leave. All behaved as if she had every right to be there,
witnessing the need of the Lladranans, learning the perils of their land.

“Ah!”
The small exclamation huffed from a huge Swordmarshall beside her. He strode to
the top of the map, stretched out a long arm and said, “We have leagues more of
border fence, have connected fenceposts. Too bad we can only build the fence
when horrors invade. Only two large stretches to go and our country will be
safe from the greater horrors for a piece.” His leathery face creased into a
ferocious smile. “Then we will
hunt
.” He rubbed his hands. “Take the war
to the Dark’s nest. Destroy it!”

Jerking
his head at Elizabeth and toward the door where people filed into a steady rain,
he moderated his tone, which had rung with glee and seemed to resound through
the very Castle. “Tonight’s invasions are ended. Go to bed now, Exotique
Medica. The warriors will straggle in depending upon their energy and Power and
their volarans’ Distance Magic. You’ll be needed tomorrow.” He was sheparding
her out and she glanced back to see the largest bit of red-orange shoot
southward, Faucon come to claim dinner in the middle of the night. Her stomach
was accustomed to strange meals at strange hours.

“Needed
tomorrow,” she repeated.

The
Swordmarshall took her elbow, hurried with her from the Map Room into the rain
and across Temple Ward to the cloisters. “We only lost four, and no more are
seriously wounded, or we would have seen healing circles, but there will be
minor wounds. There’s continuing sickness in the city.”

Despite
her faint protests, he escorted her to her door, bowed and left. But the night
air had awakened her. Her nerves hummed with a anticipation. Faucon Cruess was
flying her way.

She
turned and descended the tower stairs, out to Temple Ward and saw more than one
window of Faucon’s suite lit for his homecoming. She was still expected. She
heard the rush of the first warriors returning. A moment later, Alexa’s
grumbling came. “You’re as tired as I am. You shouldn’t be carrying me.”

A
swat as if on muscular buttocks. “I’m not tired. Yet,” Bastien replied. His
quick, wet footfalls sounded from the open door of the Assayer’s Office to
Elizabeth’s right and she faded into the deep shadows of the cloister.

“Damned
wild magic black-and-white,” Alexa muttered.

When
Bastien jogged past, wife over a large shoulder, he said, “Salutations,
Elizabeth.”

“Salutations,
Elizabeth,” Alexa said at the same time.

“A
good night.” Bastien’s teeth flashed in a smile. “Good battles,” he added with
satisfaction. “Good results.” Though the rain was falling harder, they appeared
only damp. He didn’t slow his pace as he entered the keep.

More
voices rose from the Landing Field and Elizabeth considered her paths—through
the Assayer’s Office full of monster parts, God forbid. Or backtracking through
the keep then threading a dripping maze, or down to Lower Ward and through the
Chevaliers’ Horseshoe Close. That was a long walk, but was mostly covered.

As
soon as she passed through the gate to Lower Ward she saw two hawks perched on
a stone gutter, grooming.

Salutations,
Elizabeth,
said Sinafinal.

Salutations,
Elizabeth,
said Tuckerinal.

With
a flutter of wings, the feycoocus lifted into the air.
We will accompany you
to the Landing Field so you don’t get lost.

Ha.
Something in the fey-coo-cus’ tones made Elizabeth think the beings didn’t
trust her to go there on her own.

Faucon
gets a lady at last
.
Tuckerinal craned a look back at her, smirking around his beak.

“We’re
not staying,” Elizabeth protested. But the magical shapeshifters were already
flying across the ward. Elizabeth didn’t spend any more breath on them, and
when she reached the Landing Field, they bulleted into the sky and away.

Again
Elizabeth took to the shadows. This time the weary Chevaliers crossing to the
stables and Horseshoe Hall didn’t discover her or paid her any mind. Nor did
the returning Marshall pairs. A few radiated sexual tension as Bastien and
Alexa had, but most stumbled wearily through the back door of the Assayer’s
Office and to their quarters.

She’d
kept count of the little markers moving on the map, and soon all but two had
returned. Faucon and one of his Chevaliers.

Long
minutes later, she heard the tired, irregular beat of volaran wings and two
dark shapes landed, separated into men and volarans, the larger supporting the
other. Faucon had flown back to help one of his people.

Both
winged horses drooped. Faucon’s squires rushed from the stables where they’d waited.
He waved them to his man, glanced her way. “Help Renny to bed and send for a
Castle medica,” Faucon ordered. “Let the stablehands tend the volarans.”

Elizabeth
wanted to volunteer her help, but hesitated. She’d never healed anyone by
herself, and no medica had visited the Map Room. They’d be fresh, she wasn’t.
So she stayed where she was.

The
three limped away to Horseshoe Close as the volarans folded bedewed wings and
trudged into the stables.

Faucon
crossed toward her, eyes gleaming.

“You’re
here. You stayed up and waited for me.” His voice was rougher than the usual
lilt. Desire flamed in his eyes, ignited an answering sensuality in her. There
was something about watching a man come to you, focused on you, intent on sex.

Heat
sent langour through her limbs, tightened her breasts, her body readying for
him.

She
had to be the one to break the passion building between them, but she couldn’t.
She didn’t want to. God help her, she was going to take what she wanted.

He
stopped, gaze on hers, not a foot from her. Pheromones blazed off him, his aura
fiery with passion.

Elizabeth
swallowed. This was no sauntering, charming nobleman. This was a man who’d
fought and killed monsters, had led men in battle and brought them out. He knew
as much about fighting for life and against death as she did. More.

She
couldn’t move.

Braced,
he reached for her hands, took them gently, lifted them, then kissed her cupped
palms softly. Did she feel the touch of his tongue? She didn’t know. The
thought of that had her swaying toward him.

He
kissed her, a press of lips on hers and the scent of him, man and stranger,
trembled through her. She could hear his Song, loud with the percussion of
sexual arousal. Yet there was more—the innate attraction women like her had for
him. That was an undertone to all his thoughts and actions. More still, caring.
Already, respect. That she yearned for.

His
hands were on her, curving around her hips, sliding up to her breasts, and the
heat and their Songs thundered in her ears. She wanted this, the lust of the
man, the caring, the respect.

He
touched her with knowledgable hands, sending her blood pressure high,
stimulating a sex drive she’d thought dead.

He
wanted her.
He knew what she was, of her gift. He
admired
her gift.

Taking
both her hands in one solid grip, he held them above her head as he rocked
against her, nibbled her neck. “I need. I need,” he panted.

She
needed, too. Comfort, security,
passion
. Rational thought sizzling away
in physical pleasure. “Yes,” she said and rose tiptoe to run her tongue along
his jaw. He groaned and turned his mouth as she’d wanted him to, and plunged
his tongue into her and she tasted him and savored him and let the firestorm of
passion rule until she shattered in release moments later.

F
aucon came back
to himself with a rush, followed by inward cursing. He’d
taken
her, a
prized Exotique, with no finesse or tenderness. He opened his mouth to
apologize, stopped. Looking down at her flushed face and curved smile, he felt
the softness of her yielding body and knew enough about women that an apology
might be an insult.

Just
seeing her aftermath of pleasure, hearing her humming Song of satisfaction,
aroused him again. A quick glance around the Landing Field confirmed that they
were alone. Relief trickled through him. A couple of volarans were around, but
most had retired to the stable, and volarans were uninterested in human sex
unless it affected their flier and volaran status.

Would
Elizabeth stay with him for the night, or let him stay with her? In Alexa’s
tower. He winced. Not optimal circumstances for an affair with an Exotique, in
a chamber under Bastien and Alexa. Bastien had never quite forgiven Faucon for
trying to claim Alexa. Then Faucon recalled dinner and eased. The night was
late, or the morning was early, he’d persuade her to stay with him.

“Faucon?”
Elizabeth opened her eyes and he thought he could see the hazel of them even in
the dark.

Her
wrists pushed against his grip and again he suppressed a curse. He’d pinned her
against the wall, with hands and body. Sliding his hands down to her waist, he
said, “One moment.” Though his sex stirred again with their movements, he
needed to show her tenderness more than another bout of mindless passion. No
matter how good it had been.

Lifting
her from him, he hummed a quick little ditty that most adolescent boys learned
for circumstances like these.

She
blinked rapidly. “Faucon!” The word was strangled.

Merde!
He’d forgotten.
Again. That she wouldn’t be used to Lladranan ways. Heat crawled up his neck.
“A little cleansing and drying spell,” he muttered. “For both of us.”

“I…see.”
She snorted. “Or rather
feel.
Very efficient and tidy.”

“Ayes.”
He made sure she was on her feet, then managed his clothes, as did she.

She
stood, head tilted, watching him. He brushed a kiss against her lips. Tracing a
thumb over her cheek, he stared into her dilated eyes, couldn’t fathom her
emotions. “I didn’t hurt you?” His primary concern.

“No.
Ttho.” Her smile was wobbly. “It was wonderful. You’re a wonderful man.”

His
fingers drifted over her mouth. “Don’t say ‘but’. I want to know you better.”
He couldn’t help the flash of a grin, he felt triumphant. “In all ways.” He
hesitated. “Dinner awaits us.” He dropped his hand.

A
little sigh came. “I should think about this.”

He
wanted to say that she shouldn’t, that she should follow her heart.

Taking
a step away from her—more difficult than he expected—he offered the crook of
his elbow. “Then, lady medica, let me walk you to dinner.”

She
chuckled, disconcerting him, like her earlier snort. “Ayes,” she said. “I’ve
found Lladrana very dangerous. You never know when you’ll be accosted, say, on
the Landing Field.”

He
didn’t know how to respond. Again he thought an apology might be a misstep. “I
can only say that my experiences on the Landing Field have been exquisite.” He
gave a half bow.

“Oh.”
She blinked and blinked again. “Ohhh.”

“What?”

“I
understand you better.”

Another
grin he couldn’t suppress. “Of course you do. A benefit of lovemaking.”

“Really?”

“Ayes.”

She
frowned, and he thought he heard her intricate Song as she considered the
matter.

It
had stopped raining. Calculating the paths he could take, he opted for the most
romantic. “Have you been through the maze?”

“No,
I came to the Landing Field by way of Lower Ward and the stables.”