Page 42 of Caress of Fire
Marielle stood at the window, the cold wind of the desert night on her body. She hugged herself for warmth, but there was none to be had in her entire being. It had been a week. A week since Fedryc had found Devan in Ignio Marula’s tavern and almost lost his life trying to rescue the poor boy. All she could think of was Devan, bloodied and at death’s door. How could things have turned out so wrong? Then again, how could they have not?
Had he truly gambled his life for Ignio Marula’s niece? She should have known. She should have seen through Devan’s late nights and long work hours.
Tears stung her eyes and Marielle cursed under her breath.
“I never thought words like that could escape such lovely lips.” A familiar, masculine voice sounded behind her, and soon, a warm glow radiated at her back as strong arms closed around her waist. “I might mistake you for an old, old sailor.”
The words lifted Marielle’s lips into a weak smile, and she held the arms tightly around her body. “I have loads more I can show you,” she answered with a light chuckle. “Words no little Draekon Lord has learned.”
“Is that true?” Fedryc spun her around, a sexy smile on his perfect lips, but his eyes instantly became serious when he saw her face. “You were crying?”
Marielle shrugged and looked away but he brought her head up again. She sighed, then nodded. It was no use hiding the truth, she was worried sick about Devan.
“I can’t stop thinking about him.” Her voice shook, and tears bloomed anew in her eyes. She wiped them away with an angry gesture. “Did Henron find out anything more about Devan, or Rela? I can’t believe he was in love with her and didn’t tell me.”
“You cared for him, worked to put food on his plate, a roof over his head.” It wasn’t a question, Fedryc simply stated the facts. “You were like a mother to him, the only mother he really knew. If he had told you, what would you have told him?”
“That he was a fool,” Marielle began, and realized right away what she had said. She continued, sadness filling the void between each of her words. “I would have told him he was a fool, that he had to stay away from the girl. That she wasn’t our problem, that she wasn’thisproblem. That he was too young to know what love was.”
“So, he kept his love a secret and made a deal with Ignio Marula to buy Rela’s freedom.” Fedryc spoke the words softly, but it felt like they flayed the skin of her face like hot irons. Because he was right. “Your brother damned himself for love. It wasn’t your fault. It’s all on Ignio Marula’s head, not on yours.”
“If only I had known.” Guilt bit stubbornly into her, and Marielle shook her head. “I would have helped.”
“There was nothing you could have done about Ignio Marula, or about Devan’s love for Rela.” Fedryc’s voice spoke the truth, but it did nothing to temper the despair that inflated inside her chest with every breath. “Henron will find him. He’s got eyes everywhere looking for him. I put up such a high reward for him, there is no one he can trust. Soon, we’ll find Devan.”
“But will it be soon enough?”
Fedryc didn’t answer but he pulled her closer, and Marielle nestled her face against his chest, inhaling his good, clean scent. His heart beat beneath her cheek and she closed her eyes, trying to hear only the steady drumbeat. It put a balm on her gnawing fear, to hear it so strong, so steady.
“Come away from the window. You’re way too cold.”
She followed him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, as he guided her out of the bedroom and into the dining room of the spacious apartments. A splendid meal was waiting for them on the table, and Marielle eyed the food with large, hungry eyes.
“So much.” She sat in the chair Fedryc pulled out for her and inhaled the rich smells of the meal. Her stomach growled and grumbled and her mouth watered instantly. She still wasn’t used to the abundance that filled the Draekon’s table three times a day, every day. It only made her feel more guilty as Fedryc piled food on her plate. Roasted meat, grilled vegetables and baked potatoes, then a thick gravy dribbled over the mix. “You’re stuffing me!” Marielle exclaimed, but grabbed a fork and impatiently waited for Fedryc to sit down with his own plate in front of him, then ate with gusto.
The food tasted so good, and the years of privation made her even more hungry. She wasn’t about to turn down this bounty. Who knew how long it would last?
“You could do with some more curves,” Fedryc said between two bites. “You’d look good with an extra inch here and an extra inch there.”
His eyes slid over her body, pausing pointedly at her breasts. Marielle chuckled, her mouth full and her cheeks burning up. She loved Fedryc’s attentions, and he never missed a chance to make her feel beautiful and desirable. That was one of the many things she’d come to cherish about him. The way he always saw her, saw the woman behind the mask and the bravado.
It made her want him, more than just his body. Wanthim, this man she was beginning to know.
“I wonder what it felt like, growing up like this,” she said, looking up as Fedryc paused between bites. “So much abundance, never a worry. What was it like, growing up in the Emperor’s castle?”
Fedryc stopped chewing and looked at her like she had been stuffing roasted carrots up her nostrils instead of asking a simple question. He blinked, then finished chewing his food, taking a long time before he finally leaned back against the high-backed chair.
“Growing up as a ward in the Emperor’s castle wasn’t exactly carefree.” He inhaled deeply, his silver eyes on her like he was trying to decide how much he wanted to tell her. Whether she was worthy of hearing about his past. Finally, he nodded to himself. “We never lacked for food or warmth like you did. But that is where the carefree childhood ended. Every day we trained until our arms ached and we fell into our beds exhausted every night. It never eased up, never stopped. There was no holiday, no rest. There is no place for weakness in the becoming of a High Lord. Those who couldn’t keep up with the training died.”
Marielle stared as Fedryc looked up and far away into that past she knew nothing about. An unbearable sadness curved his full, hard lips down and she had to prevent herself from touching him as she didn’t want to stop the flow of words.
“But there are so few of your young, surely they must be very precious?”
“If they show strength enough, yes.” His sad smile stretched as his eyes became clouded with memories. “But there is no softness on Dagmar. The Emperor’s court is cruel and set in its own traditions. From what I understand, most Draekon families on Earth shun the rigorous training held in such high esteem on Dagmar in favor of a more caring approach, if you could call it that. As a result, few young Draekon boys die on Earth, whereas many die on Dagmar.”
Fedryc stopped talking, his eyes remote and his face taut with lines of grief. Marielle looked at him, then she remembered something he had told her what seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Henron was with you, was he not? On Dagmar.” She watched as the grief settled in Fedryc’s features and he nodded. “He is Draekon, but where is his dragon?”
