Scorched Treachery (18 page)

“Don’t worry, Wynifred, you will remember everything soon.” He smiled and moved away from me, the chains around my wrists tightening, lifting me up so I could only balance on the balls of my feet.

“I’m sorry, sir, but what exactly are you saying?” I guess I wasn’t the only one who was confused. My father looked between us as he to
o tried to fit together the missing pieces.

Edmund, however, seemed to be enjoying keeping more than one person in the dark. He smiled as he turned to face me again.

“You remember that night, don’t you, Timothy?” Edmund taunted, his eyes feeling like warm lasers cutting into my brain.

“Texas, 1867. A simple assignment – kill Thom. After four hundred years of flawlessly killing every person I commanded her to, Wynifred here missteps. She tells me Thom is in
Texas and not in Italy as I had already ascertained. So off she goes to Texas, to kill the father of her child. But I see through it, and I follow her…”

My mouth opened automatically, my jaw working in disbelief. Four hundred years of wor
king for Edmund, a child, Thom…none of this was my life.

“That never…”

“That never happened?” Edmund asked, his cynical voice twisting the meaning behind my words. “You don’t remember it? Then tell me what you do remember.”

He arched his eyebrows, his lips curling in a wicked half smile as he waited.

That night. The night when I got the marks, I remembered it perfectly. The flash of light, my brother’s face, the yelling. I remember feeling scared. I remember…I don’t…what was said? My jaw worked its way open and shut like the jaws of a fish as my brain tried to find the words to answer his questions.

“Don’t remember what happened? How about your childhood? What happened then?” He had moved closer, but
I barely noticed. My childhood…I couldn’t remember. I could see faces, feel emotions, but exactly what happened…how…there was nothing there.

“Can’t remember can you?”

“What are you saying, Edmund? We’ve always known about her memory loss…”

“Yes, but what if her memory
loss, her change in personality, what if it wasn’t a result of Cail’s attempts to bind your curse. What if he did it intentionally, to hide something?” Edmund ran his finger along my jaw, his eyes still boring into me.

I wanted to deny everything he had said. I wanted to tell him the truth. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t say
something I couldn’t remember…I couldn’t remember…

What did I know?

I was Wynifred, born in about 1795, exiled in 1867. I had a father, Timothy, and a brother, Cail. Ilyan killed my mother in…. He killed her because…. My father gave me the marks because I was caught giving information to Ilyan…. They caught me in…Texas?

Why couldn’t I remember?

My eyes grew wide, Edmund’s smile following suit.

“What secret did Cail lock in your mind, Wynifred?”

My eyes fluttered around the room, from Talon’s still body, curled on the cold ground, to my father, to Sain, looking for anyone to give me a different explanation. Sain looked at me and nodded once. No, this couldn’t be.

“Time to open the lock, Wynifred.”

Edmund smiled as he placed his hand against my skull, his magic rushing into me. I screamed as the pressure moved into my brain, the heat flooding through me as the force increased. I heard my own scream echo in my ears as Edmund’s powerful magic threatened to rip me apart. It opened up my mind and let everything out.

My head throbbed and pulsed as things I had long since forgotten filled me. Memories that I had wanted to stay locked away came flooding back – the beautiful child’s screams and the Henry the Eighth wanna-be suddenly making sense.

I remembered everything.

I
remembered everything.

“What do you mean, ‘he wants us to have a baby’?” I spat, turning toward Thom.

Thom stood in the middle of my large room, that awful hat twisting through his fingers. Curse the ridiculous British King for such a style. It made Thom look like a peacock.

“Just that, Lady Wynifred. He has commanded it.” I gaped at him, my mind working just enough to let me turn away from him.

I could see him through my mirror, his bright blue eyes boring into me from underneath that curly hair he had inherited from his father, and the sandy color had come from his mother. He narrowed his eyes and went back to twirling the hat. The poor boy looked absolutely traumatized, and I didn’t blame him. What was King Edmund thinking?

“You are sure this message is for me?” I asked, the laugh barely disguised in my voice.

“Yes.” I could see him continually turning that hat in his hands. Round and round it went. I shook my head and looked away, not wanting his stress to leach into me.

“Are we to be bonded then?” My voice was as uninterested as I could make it, my focus more on the ornate hairbrush Cail had given
me for my birthday than on the Prince behind me. It wasn’t the first time Edmund had tried to force me into a bonding, but to use his own son this way was a little surprising.

“No.”

“No?” I wasn’t sure if I was more relieved or upset. This was the oddest request his majesty had ever given me. You don’t often send executioners into a wedding bed, especially without a wedding. I guess it was one of the perks of being a woman and under Edmund’s control. He thought he could tell me who to sleep with as well as who to kill.

“Does this upset you?” I smiled, Thom’s usual haughty demeanor coming back strong. It was unsurprising
; men hated it when you insulted their masculinity.

“Be with a prince but not be branded as a princess, of course it upsets me.” I glanced at him through the mirror before continuing my morning preparations. “Give me a name, Thom, let me take a life. That is what I am good for, what I thrive at, not this nonsense.”

“Perhaps he wants you to have a challenge.” Thom moved closer to me, the strength in his voice not leaving that time.

“Hmmm… Then let me kill his first born.” I smiled, pleased when a bloodthirsty light flickered in Thom’s eyes.

“Ilyan’s mine.” He grinned and I couldn’t help but return the smile. Everyone wanted to kill Ilyan, but no one could get close enough to even attempt it.

“Why me, Thom?”

“You are the most powerful of the Trpaslíks, the only one who still possess the fire magic…”

“And he wants his blood blended with that strength?”

Centuries ago, the fire magic that the Trpaslíks had been born with began to disappear. It wasn’t until my birth, over a hundred years ago, that the fire magic had returned. But it was only me. It never moved beyond that, making my blood, my magic, a highly sought after commodity and one that Edmund greatly desired.

Thom nodded in answer to my question, the hat in his hand finally stopping its incessant spinning. I smirked and turned toward him, leaning against my dressing table.

“What of you, Thom? Does he want you to be stronger as well?” I stepped toward him, his eyes lowering as he looked me over.

“I think it is his hope.”

I could only smile, of course it wasn’t. If Edmund wanted Thom to be stronger, he would have insisted on the bonding.  Then, at least, Thom would inherit my unique power should I die. No, Edmund wouldn’t do that. He wanted my power for himself. He had tried to punish me after I removed his finger in warning when he suggested I bond myself to him. It was then that he had placed me as one of his assassins rather than his bodyguard, but I rather enjoyed the post. Not to mention I was good at it, taking out a whole herd of useless Draks by myself had been much easier than I would have assumed. No, he wouldn’t be so foolish as to give that power to one of his children. This forced pregnancy, however, was a different story.

It only took him seventy years to figure out a new punishment for my treachery. It was almost enough to make me regret burning off his finger in the first place.

I wondered how difficult assassinations would be with a bulging belly. If this were Edmund’s new punishment, then I would gladly shove it in his face.

When it was all said and done, I had expected to hand the child over to Thom and walk away back to my blood soaked career path. What I hadn’t expected was the reaction I had at holding a small wriggling infant in my arms. One look at the dark eyes of the beautiful baby girl and I was changed.

Rosaline.

Of course, she was cursed from the beginning. Her eye color was not the royal blue that Edmund demanded. He had killed so many of his children when they were born without the bright blue of royalty that a grandchild wouldn’t make him bat an eyelid. I knew at once
that she would be destined for the same fate if I didn’t do something.

Fury would not be a word I would use to match Edmund’s anger at his failed attempt at biology. It was much worse.

I was the one who would be punished. While Thom was left to raise our precious daughter, I was sent out on assassination missions, each one more difficult than the last. I continued to track the last of Draks with the forced sight of Sain. I tracked and murdered all of Ilyan’s extended family, and even the family of his precious, clunk-headed bodyguard, all in an attempt to flush him out.

But through all the blood on my hands, it was the moments with my little blonde-headed girl that meant the most to me.

“Mama!” I turned at Rosaline’s voice. Her rosy cheeks, her dark eyes, everything about her seemed to glow as she ran toward us, her hair flowing in the wind. “Mama! Will you bind these flowers in my hair?”

“Of course, baby, why don’t you go pick some more?” Rosy smiled at me and danced back into the meadow, her hair flying behind her like ribbons of silk.

“She’s like you.” I turned at Thom’s voice, his smile wide as he winked at me before turning back to our beautiful dancer.

“Are you training her in hand to hand combat while I am gone, Thom?” I asked, waving to my eager child as she plucked dozens of long stemmed daisies.

“Oh yes, choke holds are her favorite.” We both laughed, but it was strained, the truth of his words held a dark edge. “What I meant to say is that she does what she wants. She doesn’t care what people think of her.”

“Well, that
is
like me.”

“Incredibly.” Thom smiled at me before following after Rosy, scooping her up, and swinging her through the warm summer air.

I had never had a friend before. Thom was my first. He taught me to care for my child. He taught me to laugh. He taught me to enjoy life. I had been raised to kill, raised to hunt people. It was all I knew, but Thom changed that. He turned me from a weapon into a person.

With him, I spent sunrises in meadows, evenings playing cards, days at pubs, and nights at gypsy parties. He showed me the world in a different light. I was amazed that so much life could be inside of someone.

I watched him kill men with my own eyes, but he was able to turn around and find something to smile about. I had never been able to do that before. I had always just dwelled in my cynical life, relishing it.

Part of me wished that Edmund had never changed that by bringing Thom into my life.

Our child had been born without the royal eyes and, what was worse, without my unique ability for fire magic, Edmund’s great experiment was useless to him. Useless things were disposable. Thom had tried to prove that she wasn’t useless, that she was powerful, but Edmund never saw it. So, we made plans to escape, to take our child and run.

It would have worked if Edmund had not caught wind of our plan. As punishment, our child was tortured in front of us. My own father gladly t
ook part in the hideous act.

I couldn’t get her screams out of my head. Edmund had finally found a punishment that suited
me; he had found a way to make me pay. He had done more than punish us, however; he had lost our loyalty. If only he would have guessed what we were truly capable of, perhaps he would have rethought his actions.

Thom left. I would have gone with him if it
weren’t for Cail’s constant supervision. He never left me alone; his worry over me was paramount. He held me as I mourned the loss of the one beautiful thing, the one person, I loved.

I thought I would never recover, until Ilyan found me.

He stood before me, his face screwed up in a strangely alluring smirk. His sandy hair sheared short against his head. He balanced his weight on an ornate walking stick, looking like he had just been caught taking a stroll on his enemies land.

I was one touch away from murder, my hand posed above the trunk of the tree, ready to send a million sh
ards of wood into his skin. But I didn’t, all because of that stupid hat. The hat he held in his hands, Thom’s hat. He held it gently in his fingers, offering it to me.

“Thom asked me to give this to you,” he said quietly in Czech. I looked around the forest that surrounded Edmund’s estate, wondering how he had gotten in here. A large shape loomed behind him, probably that hulking
bodyguard of his attempting to hide behind a tree.

“Thom?” I asked, the fabric of the cap soft in my fingers as I took it from him.

“Yes, he and Sain are in my care. I came to offer the same asylum to you.” I clenched the hat in my fist, the feather turning to ash as my magic flared. I wanted to say yes. Oh, how I wanted to leave right then, leave the giggles that haunted my dreams and the perfectly laundered children’s gown that still hung in my closet. But I couldn’t. There was one thing I couldn’t leave.

“I can’t,” I sighed, my own words stinging my throat.

“You want revenge.” My head shot up, my heart thumping at his words. I wanted to ask how he knew, but I could see that he shared the same aspiration.

“Yes.” My voice was a wispy pant of
desire; it dripped off my tongue and into the air in a heady need.

“Then work for me.” He smiled and moved the walking stick in front of him, where he leaned on it like the village boys would against a fence.

“Work for you?”

“Yes, I have something you want, after all.” He smiled and leaned forward, making me fight the urge to slap him. His eyes were so much like Thom’s. Thom, who had left me behind.

I laughed lightly, using the tinkling sound of my voice to draw him in. “What could you possibly have that I would want?”

He smirked, but it was different from the smirk that most men gave me. It wasn’t a smirk of desire, the light in his eyes only showed strength.

“I can offer you a way to betray the man who betrayed you.”

He kept his eyes on me, his fingers clenching and unclenching on that walking stick of his. I arched my
eyebrow, my hand dropping just enough that my threat was lessened but not enough that the danger was gone.

But then again, this was
Ilyan; my threat to him may have never been present. I had watched him rip the arms off a man and wipe the brain of another only a decade before, all while still tied to a tree. There was a reason no one had done away with him yet.

There was also a reason my heart was thudding in my chest.

“What do you have inside that pretty head of yours, Ilyan?” I trilled, bringing my hands to the hips of the scandalous red peasant dress I had chosen to wear that day. “What would you have me do?”

He hesitated, his breathing level as he studied me. Part of me wondered if he was scared of me as well. The sheer tension of the situation made me smile. I popped my hip and raised my eyebrows at him before stepping forward.
Ilyan stayed still, his hand still resting on the long staff in his hands.

“What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want your power, Wynifred.”

“You don’t?” I laughed. I fo
und that hard to believe. “What of your silent companion? Would you have him take my power, to better protect you?”

I saw the hulking mass stiffen behind the tree
.  At least my words seemed to be affecting someone.