Page 13 of Caress of Fire
“This is what Lord Fedryc seems to think, and I agree.” Silva nodded but her lips remained pursed with anger. “There’s no way my uncle—or Nissar—would have let you sneak poison close to him without incinerating you on sight.”
The words chilled Marielle even more and the cold penetrated her bones, making her shiver with fear. If Silva didn’t think Marielle had killed her uncle, then why had she come to see her? Maybe she wasn’t telling the truth. Maybe she was there for retribution. Lord Fedryc’s words came back to her in a flash and Marielle backed up a step. Silva’s silver stare didn’t flinch as she watched her like a predator, the golden dragon unmoving at her feet.
“So, I guess I’ll be sent back home, then,” Marielle said to the Draekon girl, hoping to break her carnivorous stare. “I’m not going to be of any use to your family now.”
Silva’s lips lifted a fraction and she shook her head. “I am afraid things are not that easy. You have a mating contract with the Haal family, and it must be fulfilled.”
“How is that?” Marielle frowned in confusion. Maybe the girl didn’t know? “I wasn’t able to… um… mate with Lord Aymond. I’m afraid a baby isn’t possible without that.”
“You were compatible with Lord Aymond, so that means you have a great chance of being compatible with another member of the family. My mother will no doubt find someone to mate with you. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not going to be handed away like some whore!” Marielle chuckled, shaking her head at the thought of being shipped away to some Draekon Lord, never to see her family again. She was shocked to see Silva looking at her with big, astonished eyes.
“You signed a contract, Marielle Jansen.” Silva shook her head, then glanced down at her dragon, her hand absently running over the golden scales. “You have to mate whoever is compatible with you and fulfill the contract if you want your freedom.”
It was like being hit by a ton of rocks. Marielle swallowed compulsively, then had to steady herself against the long wooden buffet by the wall. She turned desperate, tear-filled eyes to Silva, not bothering to hide her distress. Distress was all she had to convince the girl to help her.
“I can’t stay here.” Marielle shook her head violently. “I have to get back.”
“You will get back to your old life, eventually,” Silva answered, still stroking her dragon’s golden scales. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“But I don’t have time!” Marielle almost shouted, her voice breaking. “There’s someone I need to see, back in Gelmor. Please, please help me. It can’t wait. It’s a matter of life or death.”
Marielle held on to Silva’s silver and crimson eyes like a lifeline. Silva’s delicate face twisted with indecision as she held Marielle’s gaze.
“If I help you,” Silva said with reluctance, moving from one foot to the next, “my mother will be very upset with me. She can be… strict.”
“No one will ever know it was you.” Marielle stepped closer, clutching the front of the dress that had once been lovely, but was now dirty and torn. “I won’t tell anyone. I just need to get back before it’s too late.”
Silva looked down at her dragon, her hand still on its head, and it was like they were talking, but no words left their lips. She finally looked up at Marielle, and nodded.
“I will help you get out of the castle.” Silva shook her head. “But I can’t do anything more than that. You will be on your own in the desert. You could die.”
“It’s okay.” Marielle smiled, her relief tempered with fear growing inside her chest. Because Silva was right. The desert was not a forgiving place. “I’ll take my chances. If you could give me some water and some food, I’ll manage to get back.”
After a long silence, Silva turned in a flurry of red silk and Marielle followed, fear in her mind and worry in her heart.
Because, one way or the other, she had to get back.
Chapter 5
Fedryc stepped into his father’s old office with Nyra and Henron on his heels. They remained silent as he turned and looked around, taking in the appearance of the place. The very walls of this room exuded his father’s presence, taunting him like a macabre joke. It was a reminder that Lord Aymond Haal had loved and enjoyed many things in his long life. Many things except his only son. Fedryc had barely known the man the world had known as Lord Aymond Haal, and Lord Aymond Haal had never shown any interest in him. He had only shown Fedryc scorn—scorn and disappointment.
Memories flooded his mind in an unshakable tide, and Fedryc was brought back to his lonely childhood in the hallways of the Imperial castle, to the last time he had spoken face to face with Lord Aymond Haal.
He walked beside the tall, surly man with Nyra on his heels, uncharacteristically tame and silent. At nearly twelve years old, he knew who the man was, and why he came to visit him in the Imperial palace. Yet, with each visit, he felt like this man was more a stranger than his father.
Maybe it was his fault, for having killed his mother. If he was in his father’s place, he wouldn’t want to know his son, either.
“And have you ridden Nyra yet?” the man asked, looking down at him with his cold, assessing eyes. “Most boys your age have.”
“No, Sir.” Fedryc shook his head and looked down as the man stopped walking. Behind him, Nyra stopped too. “Nyra doesn’t like flight training. She much prefers to play. She thinks we don’t have enough play time.”
“And whose fault might that be?”
Tears, hot and stubborn, burned his eyelids, and Fedryc fought them with all his heart. But to no avail. The salty moisture increased and filled his eyes, and he forced himself not to blink. Not to betray weakness in the face of his father.
“Look at me, Fedryc.” The man’s voice was a steady flow of ice. “No son of mine shies away from his duties.”
