pdf - From the Ashes.PDF (6 page)

A throat cleared from his doorway. “The Lady said you could have ten minutes and not a minute more. I must ask you to come with me, my Lord.”

Fiach’s eyes pinched closed. “I’m coming.”

“It’s all right. Whatever comes next, we’ll be ready.”

He pushed from the bed and stalked back to his room. The woman guarding him peeked around the corner once he had passed.

“I’m worried, Mistress Cilia.” Her voice was almost inaudible. “The next phase begins. Be aware.”

Fiach lowered himself into the first chair he found. Rois, his chaperone, stood with her back pressed to the door that divided his room from Cilia’s. She was his mother’s favored companion, meek and mild, and given to displays of emotion.

Whispers around the court asserted that Rois’s emotional temperament was the product of raising a changeling, a human child swapped for her own at birth. Since Rois was esteemed so highly, few dared to comment on her unusually bright disposition or her open affection for her son, Cayden.

She risked a curt assurance. “You chose well, Fiach. She will survive this.”

“Thank you Rois.” Then they were quiet.

On the other side, Cilia’s trial had begun. He heard her screams and loud crashes as things unknown hurled into the wall. He kept repeating to himself that it was an illusion, that no harm could come to her, but his neck ached, a stinging reminder that the rules had changed. No one’s physical body had ever received a wound in
Liemmos
, the sleepless place. This torture was unheard of; the mental projection of a body might be harmed, but the physical body had always remained intact. Yet, he and Cilia both bore the marks inflicted on them. Fiach shuddered; if Cilia were to die there, her spirit would remain trapped while her body aged and died without the fire of her soul to animate it.

Rois announced with a shiver, “I must leave you now. Danu, be merciful.”

Fiach tensed as frigid air blasted his face and neck. He sat motionless and waited for its source to be revealed. A long serpentine neck came into view followed by a bulbous body and tiny, clawed feet. A clubbed tail twitched and thumped solidly into the wall.

The large, disproportioned head swung around; its eyes gleamed. It was a dragon; on an elemental level, Fiach recognized this creature as his enemy. A dragon cast in ice, the nemesis of his being that was forged in flame.

“Your mate was most … exhilarating.” It rasped between its too large teeth.

Terror balled in Fiach’s stomach. Cilia’s room was silent now. He looked again at the dragon and saw red stains on its lips and claws. It wasn’t possible. He would know if something happened to her, wouldn’t he?

“I’m not taking the bait, dragon.”

“No bait, just truth.” The forked tongue flicked out and licked across its reddened snout. “You have tasted her blood? It has a slow burn going down and is spiced, like cinnamon.”

All rational thought left Fiach. His fists balled, and his body erupted into flame. He flew forward, propelled not by his wings, but by his fire. His clothing disintegrated, and his skin shed until he was a living flame.

The dragon snapped its jaws, but Fiach barreled into its side and listened to its roar of fury as his heat melted the icy scales of its skin. Its huge head bent around and bit into Fiach’s side; its icicle teeth pierced deep and splattered his blood on its snow-colored skin. The monster shrieked as the Phoenix’ fire consumed him. Fiach grabbed the dragon around the middle in a tight embrace and watched as the nightmarish creature streamed tepid water in lieu of blood.

With a shudder and hiss of steam, the dragon melted into a pool at his feet. Fiach looked down and saw his own reflection in the red tinted water. His flesh rippled and flowed over him in the second before he dropped to the floor. He desperately pressed his hands flush to his side to stem the flow of blood.

The double doors of his suite swung wide and admitted Cilia. She dropped to her knees and tried to replace his hands over the wound. Fiach grabbed her shoulders and forced her back to inspect the damage. She was nude and covered in the fine powder that marked the transformation to flame. One eye was swollen, almost closed, and a jagged cut marred the skin of her side where the dragon’s clubbed tail had landed a blow.

He yanked her into his lap and sank back on his haunches. “This ends now!” he bellowed at the ceiling.

Cilia tried to soothe him, but he yelled at the enchanted clouds over head. “Mother! I know the high court watches these proceedings. My mate will not be endangered like this!”

Cilia caressed his neck and jaw; she rained kisses over his battered face. His lips were too bruised for kisses, so he held her tightly and hoped the worst was over.

His mother’s voice trickled down from above. “Next is the final test. It is for Cilia to judge.”

The puddle that they knelt in vanished, and they were at once sitting in chairs across the room from one another. A long, black velvet curtain draped over one end of the rectangular space, obscuring what lay beyond. Fiach met Cilia’s eyes and mouthed the ominous words, “Forgive me.”

Cilia was frightened. The trial’s method of awarding merit seemed insane. Each stage ending only when one or both of them succumbed to a potentially mortal wound.

Fiach slumped in his chair. Sunken and drained, the blood loss weakened him to a dangerous point. As she watched him mouth the foreboding words, her eyes glued to the curtain to see what horror it concealed. Framed by the draping fabric was a pulsing blackness, thick and cancerous, a tangible malice that she easily felt from across the room. She tensed and prepared to defend her mate if necessary.

A parting of fabric revealed a tall unearthly woman. She stepped clear of the curtained doorway and stopped a few feet away from Cilia. “I am Zinath, and I was the first lover of Fiach.” After her proclamation, she strode to where Fiach sat and dropped into his lap. His face distorted, but his body remained frozen.

The curtain rustled again and a black-skinned creature, almost more animal than woman approached her. Its rasping voice grating out the words, “I am Kidre. The second of Fiach’s lovers.” She turned and took her place by Fiach’s chair.

Cilia was uncertain whether the women were illusion or reality since the lines blurred constantly in this place. If they were real, then the curtain concealed a portal that could bridge the gap between Faerie and other planes of existence. If they were illusion, then it hid something guaranteed to be equally sinister and unforgiving.

Cilia was shocked as woman after woman stepped through the portal and past the curtain to approach her. Each gave the same recitation, allowing her a glimpse into the life that Fiach had led. It forced Cilia to acknowledge that she was truly one of many.

It was then that Cilia understood. This was about humiliation, about degrading Fiach to the point that his sins were laid bare, and she must judge him fit to mate or not. That revelation brought peace. She watched the procession for what must have been hours. A staggering collection of women lined the walls and claimed the floor around Fiach until he was lost from her sight among them.

Cilia tensed as Arvel stepped forward. The demon’s eyes were unfocused and distant; her words slurred in awkward cadence. Cilia acknowledged her, and the demon went to join the others. When the room was filled to capacity and the women were forced to stay by her side because there was no room left by his, the curtain opened wide.

In reverse order, the women began to form a line, this time, starting with the last. A human woman stepped forward that Cilia recognized as her neighbor from the time she had lived at the brownstone with Max and Stella, the one that Fiach had been with when she had encountered him. The woman looked at Cilia and asked, “Can you forgive your mate for the sins he has committed against you?”

“Yes,” she huffed out tiredly.

“This room is filled with women who have known the pleasure of having his cock inside of them. Of being ridden to screaming orgasm by the one who now claims to love you.”

This proceeding had quickly become ridiculous. Laughter bubbled up and spilled over her lips. She rubbed a hand down her face. “Can we cut to the chase, or do I have to answer the same thing to each of you?” She met the stares of the harem of women, all of which startled at her outburst.

Cilia stood and pressed through the throng of past lovers, wading through the sea of flesh to find Fiach at its center. She grasped the arm of his first lover and pulled the woman free of his lap, then claimed her seat. Fiach was pale. His hands were too weak to wrap around her. She rested against his chest and spoke to him instead of the women.

“If I had been able to have sex without killing someone, I bet I would have collected more men here than your women.”

He was still for a heartbeat and then began to chuckle. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You have a very healthy appetite.”

“I wouldn’t have loved them. You called to my heart from that first time in the hall. I knew then that everything I had done to belong to the humans was foolish because my place is wherever you are.”

“Cilia, I want to be with you. I want you to live inside of me and burn with me all the days of forever.”

A smattering of claps interrupted their private moment. Cilia looked up; the room lay empty, and the curtain had vanished. In its place, the Lady and the cowled men from her dream stood. She decided to ignore whatever torture lay ahead and instead to bask in the warmth of her lover’s body.

“You don’t have to hold him so close, Cilia,” the Lady said.

“Don’t I? Who knows when the next trial will begin and if either of us will survive it?”

“Calm yourself. The trials are over. You may rest tonight and be joined in the morning. The preparations for your
Noce
are complete.”

Cilia looked at the ethereal mother, the beautiful Lady, and saw for the first time the hint of cruelty that lay beneath the mask of serenity. “I don’t care. We don’t need your permission or your acceptance. We can leave this place and find our own happiness.”

The Lady frowned. “Fiach will not be happy unless he is joined to you in the way of our people. Any happiness you find will not be lasting.”

“You don’t know your son. If this rite was something he wanted, he would have asked me on his own without being coerced.”

His mother laughed, like a whisper of fury. “Coerced? If I had not mentioned it, what makes you think he would have ever offered? He is too much of a gentleman to leave you embarrassed in front of the court.” Her lips curved into what some might consider a smile. “He asked you out of pity.”

Cilia stood and pulled Fiach to stand beside her. “We’re leaving now.”

A dozen sinuously muscled guards flashed to the Lady’s side. The nearest one held a gold tipped spear and pressed it into the shredded flesh of Fiach’s side. He blanched and almost dropped to his knees.

Cold fury enveloped Cilia. Her Phoenix rose and demanded she protect its mate.

Luminous blue flames blazed over her skin and encased her and Fiach’s weakened body.

She called forth her fire and prepared to battle their way free if necessary.

In the face of her murderous rage, the Lady lifted a hand; a dam exploded in her mind and knowledge filled Cilia. She remembered. The thin barrier of rebirth ruptured, and memories assailed her. Large pieces of a life forfeited and a love she had sworn to never forget swarmed into her mind. Power that had been dormant for too long cascaded over her skin as her Phoenix settled closer around her.

Cilia pressed a palm encased in flame to Fiach’s chest. “Open for me.” And, he opened his mind to the crush of his forgotten past. His eyes widened and his jaw slacked, as his memories were unlocked. When he looked at her, she saw the difference in his eyes immediately. They were still dark and lovely, but the gentle love that had been there before was amplified. Red flames licked in his gaze and consumed her. Here was love.

Here was her soul.

“I thought I had lost you,” he said.

A whoosh of air tickled over her as his skin ignited. The white glow of healing encased them as their wounds healed. The pure white light flashed a deep golden red. Her fiery mate’s need called to her own. His skin was damp from his body’s failed struggle to flush away the remnants of the aphrodisiac. He dropped his head to hers and took her lips with hard licks and teeth. He forced his tongue inside her mouth and laved each surface therein.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.” She whimpered and now could remember a thousand times his kisses had burned her, left her charred and smoking as their desires consumed them.

The Lady’s voice seemed distant, but urgent. “Remember our bargain.”

The fires were stoked too high to discharge. They required flesh sliding against flesh, bodies slapping together in joining.

“Do you mind?” Fiach grated against her lips.

“I need you. I need to know this is really you. I don’t care if the whole damn court watches.”

Dozens of tiny explosions seemed to happen at once. Cilia pulled back enough to see that, in fact, the entire court had heard her grant permission for them to be present. She groaned and rested her forehead on Fiach’s shoulder. He chuckled.

“It’s too late to worry now.” He nipped her shoulder. “I need to be inside of you.”

Cilia nodded and allowed Fiach to carry her to a bed that had materialized in the center of the empty chamber. There was no headboard or footboard to obscure the view, but a large square mattress with red sheets tucked under its lip. She snorted as she noticed the color choice.

Rois piped up. “I thought you would be lovely against the red.”

Cilia smiled and caught the Lady’s eye. Her old knowledge reminded her that the Lady was not Fiach’s mother. She was a friend, who had risked great peril to harbor the
Neir
and
Neiro,
the Phoenix equivalent to Queen and King, when it might have cost her and her court their lives. They were indebted to her, and she had asked to witness a Phoenix mating as payment.

The Lady met Cilia’s eyes, and their silver depths shone with lust and eagerness.