Rising Fire, page 15
The image of the king’s knight appeared in his mind.
“William de Brus?” he whispered aloud. The fireball she was perfecting dissolved at the words.
“My lord?” she asked, carefully avoiding his gaze. “You know the king’s knight?”
Hugh studied her face as he waited for her to speak. “You spoke to him this day.” Everything she did was observed. He trusted no one, not even his recently claimed bastard.
“Aye,” she said. Nothing more. Hmm. Did she purposely hide something from him? It would not work, but she had not discovered that part of his abilities yet.
“You know him, Brienne?” he asked again, pushing against her mind with his, causing some amount of pain for her. When she gasped, he paused.
“I met him when we traveled back from Gifford.”
“Who else was with you?” He pushed again, and she hissed against it, her face going pale. “My father.”
He decided he did not want her to think of Gavin again like that. Hugh spread the pain out so that her whole body felt it this time. She cried out then, her hands clenching against it.
“Who was with you?” he asked again. She looked at him with fear-filled eyes. “Call him by name, Brienne. And remember that you are my blood and not his.”
“Gavin,” she whispered. He released her, and she panted as the pain, once very real, faded. “I was with Gavin.”
“So the knight has been on my lands for weeks now?” he asked, waiting to see if she would tell him the truth this time.
“Aye, my lord.” She was breathing heavily now, part in fear and part in anticipation of the pain she knew he could cause. He reached over and lifted her face to his. Inhaling her scent, he knew something else now.
“He arouses you.” He pulled her closer and inhaled once more. “He excites you and you want him.” Interesting. She reacted like a bitch in heat at the mention of the warblood’s name. He dropped his hold and walked a few paces away. “Are you a virgin, girl?” he asked. She did not answer immediately.
He knew the answer from the blush that rose in her cheeks. But he wanted her to answer him. This was about obedience, which he was enforcing as surely as he was building her skills with the fire. Hugh pushed.
“Aye,” she called out, wincing as it hit her.
Untouched.
Another asset he could exploit if and when he needed to draw the others to his cause.
“Again,” he said, pointing to the center of the chamber.
She walked to it and created the perfect sphere within seconds. Her mind was focused so closely on her creation that she did not see it coming. He blasted her from behind, throwing his power at her. The fire flared, filling the entire chamber before she pulled it back.
“Do not let it falter, Brienne. Keep the sphere before you,” he ordered. He did not lessen his assault until she realized what he wanted and did it. “No matter what I do, keep it before you. Perfectly round and compact.”
He moved around her, pushing her mind and throwing his own fire against her. Over and over, until she could both fend him off and focus on her creation. Hugh continued until he could feel her weaken and heard her scream out. He stopped.
A good effort for the first full night, he thought as she collapsed on the floor before him. With only burned scraps of clothing left, for the garments could not withstand the flames once she’d faltered, he let her lie there while he went to speak directly to the goddess.
The warblood was his next target. Sir William, the bastard son of the king, would be a triumph for Hugh, and he intended to bring him to his side of the battle. Oh, he’d known from the moment Sir William had crossed onto his lands that he was one of them. Those last few left who would try to defeat him.
He was also untrained in how to call upon or control his power—the power of the supreme and utter warrior. Because of his ignorance, Hugh was able to shield his power from the knight, so he would be unaware of his true abilities until it was too late. Since the others were just as ignorant of the prophecy and what they must do, Hugh would use his advantage of knowledge to conquer them, one by one.
He opened the secret doorway to the goddess’s chamber, leaving Brienne. She would not wake for some time, for she lay unconscious from exhaustion and pain. Such was the price paid for using the power in their blood, at least until she learned how to use its rejuvenation properties, too.
As he walked down the steps, into the underground vault that sat beneath the old castle ruins, his flesh roused in anticipation of communing with her. Deep within the ground, surrounded by the buried stones that had been hidden away by his ancestors, he stood before her and prepared to be cleansed by her fire.
The shock of it as he pushed his hand through the wall that separated them forced him to his knees.
The heat as she approached shocked him in its intensity.
And then his body and soul burned in the heat of her pure fire.
“My goddess,” he forced out. His jaws clenched as he held fast, fighting the urge to pull away from the agony of her touch. “I am yours,” he pledged.
“She pleases me.” The goddess’s voice echoed through the barrier and across the stone chamber. “Power seethes in her veins. My powers.”
“Aye, Goddess. She is strong,” Hugh said as pride tinged his voice now. Though she lay unconscious on the floor of his chamber above, she had been spectacular.
“The priests and the seer are near. And a warblood,” she hissed, her form rearing back as she spewed more fire at him.
The goddess swirled in anger inside the darkness, shooting flames and screaming out curses. He had never seen her so and tried to placate her in some way. “The warblood means something to the girl, my goddess. She could bring him to our side.” Hugh dared a glance up at her. “And she will be the sacrifice to put an end to your enemies.”
Her fury calmed then, and he heard the sound of her fluttering wings behind the barrier. She existed in that form there. But what would she be when he freed her? He shivered in anticipation and arousal.
“Use her,” she hissed. “The warblood must be ours.”
Hugh smiled and nodded. “She will do as I command her.”
Chaela sent a burst of molten heat across the barrier then, and he felt her pleasure in the wave after wave of pain that sent him writhing on the floor. His body melted into flames and merged for a moment with her heat. Barely able to withstand such a joining, he fought to remain flames but could not.
His human body re-formed and burned anew. Hugh screamed against the pain, and then in the final moment of agony, he attained release. As he lay there, letting his own powers heal his scorched flesh, the goddess spoke in his thoughts.
Use her. She is ours.
Later, as he carried Brienne back to her chambers, he realized the more important connection—she would mean something to the warblood. Hugh must play on that. Time was growing short, for the priests had arrived, and if they could convince the other bloodlines to work together, it would jeopardize his plans.
“Girl!” he said, shaking her as he walked down the stairs and along the corridor. No one would hear him. “Girl!” He shook her once more. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment. Hugh held her closer and whispered to her, “Does the warrior want you? Does he lust for you?” When she did not respond, he used his thoughts to wake her.
“Aye,” she mumbled, startled.
“Has he shown his power to you?” Another push, and she stared into his eyes. “Has his blood risen yet?” All it took for her to answer was for him to narrow his gaze. Like a trained dog, she knew what would follow if she did not. “Aye, my lord. He changes . . . into . . .”
He pushed again, but it was too much. She fell unconscious, and he could not rouse her. Arriving in her chambers, he dropped her on the bed and walked out, disappointed that she could withstand so little before losing consciousness. With more training and more encouragement, he would teach her to endure longer. Pulling the door closed, he returned to his sleeping chambers, his body stronger and more vigorous for what he’d endured below.
Knowing he would see the goddess and that his condition would change after such encounters, he made certain that a wench waited for him in his chambers. As he’d ordered, she knelt next to his bed, naked, the marks of his last attentions still reddened and burned into her skin. Because of the spell he’d cast, she slept deeply, curled over herself with her face resting on the cold stone floor, awaiting his return.
No matter that she slept, he thought as he lifted her and laid her on her stomach over the edge of the bed. She would wake soon enough and scream the way he so liked.
As he had for his goddess. They always did.
Chapter Fifteen
“Brienne!”
“Brienne!”
Her name seeped into her exhausted mind, and Brienne raised her head to find the source of the noise. It hurt to even think about moving, and it hurt when she finally forced her body to respond. The chamber spun around her as she turned to face . . . someone.
“Brienne, you must hurry. He has called you to the noon meal in the hall.”
The frantic sounds of Emilie searching through the trunk and the slap of the tossed garments on her skin made her look around. She lay half on her stomach, half twisted on her side, across the bed. Wrapped in a gown she did not remember donning. On top of the bedcovers.
Memories flooded in then, and she groaned at the flashes of fire and burning and pain, inside her head and all over her body. Curling her legs up and holding them, she ached and her head throbbed.
“Are you ill? He did not say to excuse you if you are ill. He said ‘bring her to the table for the noon meal.’ He ordered.” Emilie continued her words, but they garbled into a slurred chant of endless words. “Brienne,” Emilie said loudly as she grabbed her shoulders, “You must get off that bed and get dressed.”
Chilled, she shivered as she sat up. She was never cold, but this morn she felt as though she would never warm. Emilie dressed her without pause, intent on doing what she’d been told to do. After last night and its “lessons,” Brienne understood how she felt. She’d quickly learned that her father drew her in with enticements and appealing promises and then delivered brutal punishments if he was not pleased.
Emilie pulled her up to sit, and her hand slid down Brienne’s arm. Jumping back, the girl grabbed at her hand and cried out.
“You are burning!”
Tugging her own arm free, Brienne looked at the place where Emilie had touched. Her birthmark. The flames, now vibrant red and moving freely, entwined with each other and separated, rippling on her flesh as though alive.
And the heat moved through her, reminding her of the power in her blood. Clutching her hand over it, she moved away from the girl and stood. “Give me my shift,” she said.
Pulling it over her head, she covered herself and the mark. Though she could feel the heat through the thin fabric, it did not appear to burn through it. Turning back, she looked at the girl and a knowing glance gazed back. This was not something to be discussed with anyone. Nor was the presence of more ash in her bed and on her feet when she sat to have her stockings put in place.
A few wordless minutes later and Brienne stood dressed and ready to go to the hall. Emilie lifted the latch and opened the door. There in the corridor stood both Lord Hugh’s wife and his daughter.
“My lady,” she said, dropping to a curtsy.
“Are you ready? Come along, then,” Lady Margaret said in a biting tone. Out of Lord Hugh’s sight and hearing, she made her dissatisfaction with this arrangement very clear. As did her half-sister, who simply did not speak to Brienne at all or acknowledge her in any way. Even now, she looked up and down, anywhere but in Brienne’s direction.
Lady Margaret did not wait for a response. She began walking and expected everyone would fall in line behind her—which everyone did. Never having lived in a noble household before, Brienne marveled at the structure and rules that governed it all. Rules she would never remember. Emilie had pointed this out just about every moment of every hour since she’d arrived. They’d been called to the hall and Brienne knew that meant the large room over in the main keep, so she walked behind the others.
As they made their way across the yard, Brienne realized that she missed the friendly conversations that sprang up as villagers went about their daily business. Neighbors spoke to one another. Mothers called out to their children. Everyone was at ease among themselves. Here no one addressed anyone else. When the lady or lord crossed the yard, all motion and talking stopped. No one spoke unless they were spoken to first. A sense of unease pervaded Yester.
The sunlight could not break through the thick clouds that swarmed the sky above her this day. And just so, for the dreariness suited her well. Her head and body ached from last night. Having a power such as theirs and knowing his ways, she should not be surprised at his ruthless method of instructing her. Succeed or die was the message he gave, and she would learn it one way or the other.
She’d heard rumors about his abilities and his dark practices, and Brienne thought those who spoke of them must have some knowledge about him. From what she’d witnessed so far, the rumors were correct. He had the power of fire. He could force people to do his bidding with only his thoughts and could read the thoughts of others. He could call forth the dark magic and cast spells.
She shivered then, remembering how she’d felt when she first woke up this morning. She had no memory of how she’d come to be there. The last thing she remembered was his orders to bring forth a sphere of fire and hold it before her.
Then a barrage of fire and pain came at her and she’d fought to keep the sphere and protect herself. When her garments caught fire and burned her, she knew she’d failed and expected to die. Instead she’d awoken back in the bedchamber.
Now that she thought on it, it would make no sense to let her die. Lord Hugh knew she did not understand her power yet and was inexperienced in using it. He would not want to bring her here and then allow her to perish so quickly. So she would need to learn faster and better. To make up for lost years of learning and to gain the skill that he had and to control the fire in her blood.
Brienne knew that she would. For in the midst of it all last night, when she’d perfected that sphere, it had been pleasurable and invigorating. The fire raced in her blood and into the ball and back into her, a cycle that sent splinters of sheer bliss coursing through her. It was a feeling she liked, one she wanted to feel again.
After keeping it so secret and daring to let it free in only tiny bursts, allowing it to flow and directing its path felt right. She was a fireblood, he’d told her, and she made fire the way that others breathed. It was not evil or bad; it simply was. Brienne found the experience thrilling. She knew she needed to be able to release her power, and she wanted to feel it burn through her blood as it moved.
The winds picked up then, and the smell of rain filled the air around them. Lady Margaret began walking faster, and the others rushed to get to the keep before the rains came in earnest. Tilting her head down, she ran up the stone steps and into the keep. Once inside, she waited for Lady Margaret to lead the way.
They entered the great hall. It was the first time Brienne would be joining them for a meal. Brienne saw Lord Hugh coming toward them. Lady Margaret, apparently thinking he would speak to her, moved toward him. But her husband walked past her directly for Brienne, drawing her away to speak privately. When Brienne glanced over her shoulder, the lady’s mouth hung open in surprise before she closed it with an angry breath.
“Are you well this morn, Brienne?” he asked in a low voice, releasing her as soon as they were far enough from the others. She might have mistaken his question for concern had she not met his gaze just then and saw the cold, calculating stare of a man with plans.
“I am sore and tired, my lord,” she said.
“Too sore and tired to continue your lessons this night?” he asked. Again, coming from another, it would have been solicitous, but from him, she sensed he was already wondering if he’d overestimated her.
“Nay.” She already knew she would suffer whatever she must to free the fire from her blood again.
“Nay?” he asked. She felt the pain that told of his displeasure, and she hissed in a breath at it. He did not like her to be familiar with him. She’d forgotten.
“Nay, my lord,” she said, closing her eyes against the continuing pressure in her head. “I am neither too tired nor too sore to have lessons this night.”
“Very well,” he said. “I will come for you. Be ready.” He stepped back, and the pain eased against her mind. Thinking he was done speaking to her, she turned back to where the women waited.
“Brienne.” She faced him and waited for the rest. “I have a surprise for you. A guest I thought you might like to see.”
Lord Hugh would never have invited her par—Gavin and Fia—here to the keep, so she could not think of who it could be. He walked back to the table, and she waited as Lady Margaret and Adelaide took their places. With a curt gesture, she was directed to the last seat on the end. Never having dreamed she’d eat a meal here in the keep, she did not mind. The servants, the ladies’ maids, and companions who’d accompanied them took seats at the lower table. Glancing down the table, she noticed the one empty place to Lord Hugh’s right.
Only a minute or two later, before cups could be filled or food served, a small group of men entered the hall and walked toward the table. Most of them stopped and sat at one of the lower tables, but one continued up the dais to the high table.
“My lord,” he said, “my thanks for inviting us to share your meal this day.” The tone was not precisely pleasant, but it was respectful. It was Sir William.
“Welcome, Sir William,” Lord Hugh said. “Here is your place. I wish to continue our discussion about your plans for the king’s grant of lands.”
