Page 48 of Caress of Fire
Darkness bloomed around the edges of Marielle’s mind as despair took hold of her. She was useless, helpless against enemies so much bigger than herself. She couldn’t even help Fedryc, couldn’t do anything else but wait.
And waiting was making her slowly go crazy.
Marielle got to her feet, leaving the covers behind. The sharp morning air made her skin prickle with goosebumps but she didn’t care. She had to get up, had to do something, anything.
She reached inside the large dresser for another precious dress. Fedryc had ordered a full wardrobe for her, and she had more gowns than she ever thought a woman could need. Her fingers traced over a bright red one, the same color as the Draekar bracelet on her wrist, a shade darker than her hair. She pulled it out and slid it over her body, then looked at herself in the large mirror adorning the back of the wall.
She swallowed as emotions filled her chest. She barely recognized the stranger looking back at her.
Her lips were still red and a tad swollen from Fedryc’s ardent lovemaking the night before, and her eyes glittered with something she was too scared to name, something that had deserted her the moment she became an orphan and the sole provider of her baby brother. The dress she wore set off her pale skin and highlighted the flaming red of her hair. Her cheeks were pink and had lost the hollow, gray tint of starvation that had plagued her life for so long.
She turned away from the mirror and walked into the main living area, then stopped. On the low table surrounded by pillows was a small, plain wooden box. Marielle approached it slowly, then lifted the light object, studying it for markings. Nothing was written anywhere on its surface, and after hesitating for only a moment, she opened it.
She screamed and the box crashed to the floor, scattering the shock of short red hair inside, and a bloodied chunk of flesh rolled away, shocking and repulsive on the stone floor.
The next second, the door to the apartments opened to make way for a worried-faced Silva.
“Marielle, are you all right?”
Silva walked into the room in a flurry of golden silk but Marielle didn’t look away from the head-full of red hair in the box, and the piece of flesh covered in blood.
“Oh my Gods!” Silva stopped at Marielle’s right, slightly in front of her, and covered her mouth when her eyes fell on the contents of the box. “Guards! Guards!”
“No!” Marielle turned to Silva with a fierce scowl on her face and it surprised the girl enough to silence her. “Don’t call the guards.”
But it was too late. The guards perpetually at her door entered, and Marielle positioned herself in front of the box and its contents, hiding it behind the large panels of her dress. The first guard’s orange eyes scanned the room for signs of danger, his hand resting on the hilt of his short sword.
He was on high alert, as always. Tension was running high among the guards of the household, and this one was no exception.
“Lady Marielle,” the guard finally said as he brought confused eyes to her. “What happened?”
“Nothing. A large spider entered through the window, and I was scared silly.” Marielle did her best to smile like the idiot this guard would surely think she was, and was rewarded with a sigh from the man that was filled with both exasperation and amusement.
“Do you need me to take care of it?”
His eyes scanned the floor, and Marielle quickly answered, “No need. I stepped on it just as Lady Silva called for you.”
With one last suspicious look around the room, the guard finally nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
“Why would you not tell him?” Silva turned to Marielle, her face full of fear and disgust as she looked down.
“Because I know who sent me this.” Marielle bent down, careful not to touch the blood and hair on the floor, unable to look at the ear that lay there like a silent plea. She looked inside the box again and picked up the piece of paper stapled to the inside of it.
A simple message was written in a jerky, impatient hand. Marielle’s eyes ran across it and her fingers opened, the piece of paper fluttering to the ground. Her knees hit the stone floor, and she had to brace herself with her hands to sit upright.
“What is it?” Silva knelt, not caring about staining the wonderful golden gown she wore. “What is this horror?”
Marielle didn’t answer and Silva grabbed her free hand, squeezing hard.
“He’s going to kill him.” Marielle didn’t recognize the small, breathless voice that came out of her throat. “Ignio Marula is going to kill Devan.”
Her mind filled with darkness as silent sobs wracked her shoulders. This was it, that moment where she broke into pieces, too many to put back together.
“Who is this Ignio Marula, Marielle?” Silva didn’t let go and her squeeze became painful.
“He has my brother,” Marielle answered mechanically, her eyes trailing over the blood, then latching on to the lock of hair. Devan’s childish red curls. “He wants me to meet him in the desert. Alone, with as much money as I can find. He gave me very precise instructions.”
Marielle glanced down at the Draekar bracelet and Silva followed her gaze, her face horrified. But this was the only precious belonging she had that could change Ignio Marula’s mind. Silva inhaled sharply, then her grip lifted and she reached for the bloodied paper, her silver eyes trailing quickly over the crude words. Then she lifted her young face and shook her head.
