Lennox, Mary - Heart of Fire.txt Read online

  “When I reached my study, I cast the scrying spell

  immediately. I was too late. My beloved daughter and her

  husband lay slain in their own blood. The men who had done

  this had already left the chamber. Then I heard a soft sound, a

  child’s terrified whimper. I donned my Hill cloak and raised the

  hood. The journey to Beaureve only took a moment, but it was

  the longest, most tormented journey I have ever experienced. I

  had visions of the assassins returning to find Sera before I could

  reach her.”

  Emmanuel took a deep breath and shut his eyes for a long

  moment. “Luck was with me. I found Sera in the wardrobe.

  Your aunt Marissa must have hidden her seconds before the

  murderers broke into their chamber. I did not plan revenge—it

  is against our beliefs to take it, anyway. I wonder if I thought, at

  all. I simply grabbed Sera up, sheltered her within the folds of

  my cloak and brought her home to the Hills. She did not feel

  the journey nor anything else for days. She simply sat and stared

  out the window. When she finally spoke again, I wanted to go

  to the temple of Athena and swear to keep her safe in Arkadia

  forever.”

  Emmanuel’s eyes fixed on Jacob in solemn intensity. “I

  could not do so. The Outlander world may be her fate. And I

  believe we must not act to keep her from it.”

  Moderation in all things, Jacob cautioned himself. He

  wanted to shout and smash his fist down on the desk, but forced

  himself to speak quietly, so the anger in his heart would not

  enter his voice. “Grandfather, Sera and I are closer than first

  cousins because you raised us as brother and sister. Even if love

  didn’t prompt me to save my sister, she is my blood, and my

  responsibility. Do not make me leave her helpless in a world of

  such violence and danger.”

  Jacob had difficulty swallowing. Like Sera, he had been

  very young when he lost his parents to a plague that swept India.

  Like Sera’s mother, they had gone into the Outlander world to

  do good. “Grandfather, both Sera’s and my parents died because

  they left Arkadia, and for what?”

  Sometimes, in the silence of the night, he still felt the hole

  in his heart from the loss of his parents, and on those nights, he

  had no philosophy. He also knew his grandfather’s pain was

  overwhelming. After all, Emmanuel had lost his only children

  and their mates. First Jacob’s father and mother, and then Aunt

  Marissa and Stephan, the Outlander king who married her. He

  had seen the lines of pain in his grandfather’s face, the tears on

  his cheeks as he sacrificed at their memorial tombs. He knew

  how deeply Emmanuel mourned them.

  Jacob disagreed mightily with Emmanuel’s decision to give

  Sera time in the Outlander world, but his grandfather deserved

  the utmost deference. He walked to window and looked down

  at the Temple Square, the high spear of Athene catching the

  rays of the afternoon sun and reflecting them back to him in a

  spark of glory.

  “Will you allow me to watch her in the scrying glass from

  time to time? That way, if she is in terrible danger, I can go to

  her.”

  Emmanuel nodded, his lined face kind. “We shall both watch

  together. And wish her only good.”

  Not enough, Jacob thought, but it would have to do. He

  dipped his head in acceptance and rose. “I shall go to the exercise

  ground,” he said. Perhaps he could exercise away the tension

  due to his worries about his sister and find, in physical release,

  the serenity that eluded him now.

  ***

  In an attempt to learn the city, Sera looked about her as

  they entered the tall wooden gates of Montanyard. The more

  she understood its layout, the more quickly she could escape it.

  Word of Nicholas Rostov’s return had obviously gone

  ahead, for the narrow streets of the capital’s outer ring were

  thronging with people. Little houses—some of wood, some half-

  timbered—lined the narrow, cobblestone streets. Brimming

  flower boxes and wooden shutters painted with hearts and

  animal silhouettes decorated their leaded glass windows.

  There was a great deal of noise, most of it joyous cheering.

  Women dressed in bright gowns and sparkling white aprons

  leaned perilously far from second story windows, throwing

  garlands or waving handkerchiefs. Little girls, their braids

  trimmed with white, flowerlike bows, skipped unafraid, leading

  the horsemen into the city. Nicholas Rostov seemed to spark a

  warm response from his commoners. But as she looked at the

  king’s face, Sera saw a smile that strained a little, as though he

  was faced with a rambunctious, affectionate puppy and didn’t

  quite know how to deal with it.

  The streets broadened as they wound toward the city center,

  crossing squares of elegant townhouses built of golden stone

  and decorated with colonnades. When she made her escape,

  she must go quickly through these streets, for there were no

  narrow alleys to hide in.

  Ladies of quality dressed in colorful silks and muslin stood

  on the wrought iron balconies with men in superfine jackets.

  They waved as the Outlander king rode by, and Nicholas Rostov

  responded, but again with that air of reserve and slight unease.

  At least he was no snob. He seemed uncomfortable with rich

  and poor alike.

  Several of the women stared at Sera with a speculative look

  in their eyes. She held her chin high and stared back, but beneath

  her outward appearance of disdain, she was shaking and

  uncertain. She did not want these Outlanders to judge her in the

  plain Hill gown she had insisted upon wearing for travel,

  particularly when she was already aware of their opinions when

  it came to her people.

  The road widened into a large square before the palace, an

  overwhelming building of the same golden stone gleaming in

  the sunshine. Sera’s heart sank. About the palace was a high

  fence of black painted iron, with spikes at the top and guards at

  their posts along the perimeter. She scanned the palace, itself,

  to check possible entryways and exits.

  Between the giant pillars holding a roof topped with statues,

  a rather plain young woman with brown hair and eyes to match

  waited. She wore a white muslin dress with a blue satin sash. At

  her side stood a stern, somber older woman in a black gown. As

  they came into view, the girl’s eyes lit up, and suddenly, she

  became beautiful. She was looking at Andre Lironsky, who rode

  to Sera’s right. Lironsky made a soft sound. Sera’s gaze flew to

  his face. He was staring at the young woman with a rapt look of

  wonderment.

  Nicholas Rostov was also looking from his friend to the

  girl waiting so eagerly beneath the colonnades. But he was

  frowning.

  “Andre,” he clipped. “Please find a groom to see to Sera’s

  horse while I greet my sister.”

  Andre bit his lip and nodded. He dismounted quickly and


  stood beside Wind Rider. “If you please, Miss Sera,” he said,

  offering his hand. His handsome face was marked with strain.

  She was moved to pity. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “But if

  there is anyone here you wish to greet, kindly show me the way

  to the stable area, and I shall find my own way.”

  Andre swallowed hard. “It is a question of honor, Miss Sera,

  not one of wishing.”

  As she allowed Andre to help her down from Wind Rider,

  Sera looked over Andre’s shoulder and saw the girl run forward

  to embrace Nicholas Rostov, and she heard the gentleness in

  his voice. Beyond them in the courtyard, she spied a large maple

  tree. Its leaves had already turned a bright, autumn red. Her

  heart sank as she looked at it, a living reminder that her time

  was inexorably slipping away.

  Three

  “Katherine.” Nicholas smiled down at his sister and took

  her by the elbow, leading her up the grand stairway.

  Mademoiselle Toinette, the princess’s governess, followed

  behind.

  “Tell me what you’ve been up to. And what you have

  learned while I was gone.”

  As Katherine’s face mottled with color, Nicholas mentally

  kicked himself. What she has learned. Good God! Surely, he

  could do better as a brother than give Katherine that old tired

  inquisition.

  “Not as much as you would wish me to, dear Nikki,” said

  Katherine, refusing to meet his eyes.

  Nicholas tried to think how he could undo the damage he

  had already caused. That unbecoming blush always spoiled

  Katherine’s looks when she felt self-conscious or ashamed. “I

  am certain you have been applying yourself,” he said gently.

  “I have tried, but I cannot master the pianoforte any better

  than when you left,” said his sister. “I fear I fumble so with the

  keys, and that Bach piece is so very complicated. Mademoiselle

  has told me that I must give a little recital, but Nikki, I do so

  dread it! Must I?”

  Nicholas felt the usual tug of emotions. He wanted Katherine

  to get over her terrible shyness, but at the same time, he wanted

  to protect her. What was the need, really, for her to give these

  performances she so dreaded? At the last one, the women of the

  court had applauded politely and then laughed at Katherine

  behind their fans. Even though he knew that soon he must decide

  whom she would marry, and that her future husband would

  expect her to show some aptitude for music and a great deal of

  dignity in front of his courtiers, he could not bear to expose

  Katherine to ridicule again.

  “And how are your riding lessons coming along?” Nicholas

  asked, attempting to change the subject as they passed through

  the tall doors and into the grand entryway. Beneath the high

  dome, he paused and smiled at Mademoiselle Toinette, waving

  his hand to indicate dismissal. The woman bowed and turned

  into the left hallway, her black gown swishing along the marble

  floor.

  Katherine hung her head. “Oh, Nikki, they are even worse.

  The new mare seems to throw her head up whenever I mount

  her, and I am so frightened that she’ll bolt at any moment.”

  Even though Katherine’s head was bent, Nicholas could

  see her lips tremble. “I am very sorry to be a disappointment,”

  she whispered.

  “Little bird, you are never a disappointment to me.”

  Nicholas hugged his sister tightly. “You are kindness itself to

  everyone in the palace. They all love you, and . . ..”

  But that was it, of course! Sera would love Katherine, as

  well.

  The woman certainly was a champion at holding a grudge.

  She had barely spoken to him on the long ride to Montanyard.

  But Katherine, if she were not overwhelmed by shyness, could

  soothe even the most obdurate soul into acceptance. She would

  make Sera happy here and, in the process, gain confidence

  herself.

  “I need your help, Katherine,” he said, telling her about

  how he had met the Hill woman, and why he had brought her to

  Montanyard.

  “I’ll be honest with you. There is the remote possibility

  that she is a spy. I cannot relax my suspicions until I’m certain

  of her innocence. But if she is innocent, she’s a brave and

  honorable woman and deserves your friendship. You two are of

  an age, I believe, and Sera might become a friend to you. But

  she’ll be very resentful for a while and will probably see our

  courtiers as arrogant snobs.”

  Katherine’s tiny, ironic smile told him that she, too, had

  often thought the same.

  “I know you’ll see past the anger, and in a short time, you’ll

  show Sera that she can be happy here. Will you do this for me?”

  “Of course, Nikki! I’ll have her sleep in the chamber next

  to mine. That way, we could talk late into the night. And she

  must have new gowns. I’ll notify the dressmaker. Perhaps she

  could share my dancing lessons, as well. There is much to do!”

  Katherine’s face glowed. When she forgot herself, she was

  beautiful, thought Nicholas.

  “Could you tell her now, Nikki? I would so love to begin.”

  Nicholas had no desire to brave that little lioness’s

  displeasure again. Besides, a king did not traipse after a Hill

  slave, no matter how unusual the circumstances.

  “I need to see my ministers, but I shall send someone to tell

  her,” said Nicholas.

  “Nicholas.” Katherine’s soft voice held a faint reproof.

  “You’re the only person Sera knows here. She will be unhappy

  and frightened by all the changes. Surely, you can spare a few

  minutes to tell her what her future will be.”

  Nicholas felt his shoulders slump. He had already been an

  ogre to his little sister. In all conscience, he ought to do

  something to please her. Thus, he couldn’t rid himself yet of his

  obstreperous little burden.

  ***

  Immediately after finding a groom for Wind Rider, Andre

  left Sera to attend his duties as king’s minister. Sera refused the

  groom’s offers of help. She wanted to be alone to compose her

  mind. The sight of that maple tree in the courtyard had jolted

  her. A week had already passed since Nicholas Rostov had

  brought her out of Hadar’s palace! She tried to remember how

  it felt to be calm, and she concentrated on the small tasks at

  hand, bringing water and hay to the stallion, settling him

  comfortably in his stall. Then she wandered through the

  magnificent stables and across the yard that opened into a large

  landscaped park, looking for a way out. She noted in despair

  that, for as far as she could see, a very tall, thorny hedge bordered

  the park. She needed to explore the park, looking for a break in

  the hedge, a way to freedom.

  She returned to the stable, walking past stalls paneled in

  smooth oak with shining brass hinges and door latches.

  Everything was spotlessly clean. Further along the corridor was

  a huge set of doors that opened into a colonnade
d indoor arena.

  Before she stepped into the arena, Sera sensed that

  something was wrong. Jangled impressions—pain, anger, and

  stubborn resistance—flowed to her through the dust motes

  dancing in the air above a gigantic training ring. The feelings

  came from the pretty mare that a very young groom lunged in

  circles on a lunge line. The mare’s pure white coat was streaked

  with sweat and dirt. The groom shouted at her to make her break

  into a canter, but the mare set her hooves.

  The boy shouted louder and cracked the whip behind her,

  at which point she took off at a desperate hard gallop, dragging

  the groom across the arena after her.

  “Stop the mare.” Sera had seen enough of both the lad’s

  and the mare’s increasing misery to know that the situation was

  becoming dangerous for both.

  The boy scowled at her. “And who be you to tell me what

  to do here?” he panted. He gave a yank on the line, and the

  mare stopped dead, sides heaving and runnels of nervous sweat

  running down her flanks.

  Where was the pain? Sera thought, easing close and running

  her hand along the mare’s neck. The near fore hoof flashed into

  her mind, with a large stone lodging between the shoe and the

  frog.

  “I own the chestnut stallion,” said Sera. “If you let me lunge

  the mare, I shall give you a leg up on him within the week.”

  “The chestnut in the fourth stall on the far wing?” asked

  the boy with round eyes.

  Sera nodded, holding out her hand.

  The boy hesitated. “You swear you know what you’re doin’?

  I need this job.”

  “I swear. Give me your hoof pick.” The boy gave it over

  and Sera bent over the hoof, working the stone loose.

  “Smart little girl, aren’t you?” she whispered to the mare.

  “I would not have obeyed, either. But now, it will be easy for

  you, so no excuses.”

  Sera took the whip and the line from the boy. The mare

  stood where she was on the circle and, pawing the ground, eyed

  Sera.

  “One bad habit at a time,” said Sera, picking up the whip

  and rolling the line smaller as she closed the distance between

  herself and the mare.

  “All right, my beauty,” she said softly. She touched the back

  legs lightly with the whip. “Walk on,” said Sera in a soothing