The Devil's Fire Read online

"The capital city? For what purpose?"

  "He thought Adela would want to have her marriage formally blessed by the High King. ‘Tis a great honor to have King Elwin offer his blessing, and since Elwin's father and my father were friends of a sort, Father was certain Elwin would do it.” Alric shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position. “Adela was delighted by the prospect. I thought she was excited about visiting the High Court and seeing all the sights Banning has to offer. Now I wonder if Adela hadn't already formed her plan and was looking for someone to take up her cause."

  "Her cause?"

  "Adela was no fool, Gareth. She wanted out of her marriage no matter the cost. In her mind, there was only one way to achieve such a goal."

  All traces of sympathy Gareth had felt for the woman vanished in the space of a heartbeat. “She was looking for someone to kill your father."

  Alric nodded. “She had no trouble finding a man ambitious enough to take up the challenge."

  "Denmar."

  "Yes. They met just after we arrived at Banning."

  "They took you with them on their first trip as a married couple?” Gareth hadn't expected that.

  "I had no desire to go—believe me—but my father insisted. He thought having me there would serve as a buffer for Adela so she wouldn't be pressured to spend all her time alone with him.” Alric made a face. “I tried to refuse, but you've seen for yourself how persistent my father can be when he's bent on having his way."

  "You could say I have,” Gareth said, with a trace of dry humor.

  Alric gave him a thin smile. “Needless to say, I ended up going with them. The journey was long, but pleasant enough. Once at Banning, Adela took to court life like the well-trained princess she was. She insisted on gracing every celebration and function with her presence.” His smile vanished. “We thought she was simply caught up in the thrill of it all, when in fact she was shopping for a henchman."

  "A role Denmar was only too happy to fill."

  "No doubt. As I said, they met soon after we came to court. When they first became lovers, I don't know. I found out most of the story after all was said and done."

  "I take it Adela and Denmar had a scheme."

  "Oh, yes.” Alric brushed his hair from his eyes, his fingers shaking slightly. “The two of them wasted no time hatching their plot. Adela and Denmar were an even match, without a soul between them.” He shuddered. Gareth instinctively reached over and pulled the blankets tighter around him. Alric muttered a surprised “thank you” before going on with the tale.

  "The plan was simple. Denmar was to kill my father whilst making it look like an accident. Adela would then be free—after a decent period of mourning—to marry Denmar."

  Gareth stretched his arms behind his head. “Surely Denmar didn't think to inherit the throne of Kray?"

  "Even he knew better than that. There are too many heirs standing in line for Kray's throne. Killing one man could be passed off as an accident, but eliminating an entire family was another matter entirely.” Alric's eyes flashed. “Denmar hoped by killing my father and marrying Adela, he'd one day sit the throne of Winthrop."

  Denmar was cunning. Even Gareth had to admit that. But something wasn't making sense. “How did you end up wed to Denmar, then? Surely that wasn't part of the plan."

  "Part of Adela's plan, no, but it became part of Denmar's grand scheme the minute he learned of my powers."

  "How did he come by the knowledge?"

  "My own stupidity.” Alric gave a sad shake of his head. “I've always been careful to hide my curse from everyone save my family. When Adela came to live with us, I tried to guard my secret from her, but I got careless. She was standing on the balcony late one evening and saw me kindle a fire in the hall hearth with my bare hands."

  "Tell me about this thing you call a curse,” Gareth said.

  Alric widened his eyes. “What would you call it, if not a curse?"

  Gareth searched for the right words. “A gift, perhaps?"

  "A gift, you say?” The disdain on Alric's face was telling. “I was a boy of four years when I first conjured fire. I was waiting in line to use the privy and Stanhurst, one of my father's guards, was taking longer in there than I thought necessary. Before I realized what I was doing, I focused my thoughts on the privy shed, and the building burst into flames."

  Alric's words painted a vivid picture in Gareth's mind. “Was anyone hurt?"

  "Thankfully, only the guard's pride was injured. Stanhurst came running out, squawking like a wounded goose with his hose around his ankles."

  Gareth couldn't help the full-fledged grin that spread across his face. Alric slanted him a withering gaze. “How can you laugh? ‘Twas awful."

  "Sorry.” He spoiled the apology by giving way to another smile. “You have to admit ‘tis a funny tale."

  Alric denied it, but Gareth was certain he saw a slight smile pull at the corner of Alric's mouth. Deciding to go back to the subject at hand, Gareth asked, “Did your father handle the matter?"

  Alric nodded. “Father blamed the blaze on an errant spark from one of the soldier's cooking fires, but he knew exactly where the fire had come from. His own father had the same power as I."

  "Your father doesn't have it?"

  "No, nor does my sister. It seems I am the only one in my family since my grandfather's passing who holds sway over the flame. No one knows where the power comes from, or why it strikes only select members of the same family, but thanks to my grandsire, we do know how to temper the flame and wield it. Grandfather spent long hours taking notes and training my father should one of his offspring follow in his footsteps."

  As angry as he'd been with Declan for forcing him to marry Alric, Gareth couldn't help but admire the man's love for his children. “Your father trained you?"

  "Yes, but he kept my powers a secret from most everyone, though he did alert the High King and the Council of my abilities. ‘Twas Father's way of making certain I was never persecuted for my ‘gift,’ as you call it. The villagers have gossiped for years about me being cursed and even mad—mostly because I kept myself in such seclusion—but no one outside a small, inner circle knew for certain the true nature of my powers.” Alric's voice cracked with weariness, but he kept going. “Until Adela found out, that is."

  "And then Adela told Denmar."

  "Yes, though to this day, I'm not sure why she told him. Perhaps she let it slip in a moment of pillow talk. Or maybe she wanted Denmar to feel sorry for her. ‘Poor little Adela, married into a family of monsters.'” Alric shook his head. “Whatever her reasons, Adela made a critical error in revealing my secret to the man. Denmar was far too shrewd not to see the implications of what I could do."

  "He wanted you for a weapon.” As much as Gareth hated the man, he could see Denmar's logic. With Alric under his control, Denmar would become a force to be reckoned with. “So Denmar broke faith with Adela and came up with his own scheme. She must have been furious."

  "She was, though it took her a while to reason out what had happened. I doubt Denmar ever told her ‘twas over between them. He simply left court, I imagine. Whatever the case, Denmar was gone by the time our party left Banning, and my father was still alive. Adela must have known she'd been duped. If she hadn't pieced it together by then, she surely knew it four months later when Denmar arrived at Kray's gates, seeking an audience with my father."

  Gareth ground his teeth. “The whoreson played the love sick swain, no doubt."

  "That he did. Denmar told my father he'd fallen in love with me the first time our eyes met. My father was skeptical, and since I'd seen Denmar at court a handful of times and the man had never approached me, I was less than believing, myself. That was before Denmar plied me with his charm.” Alric ran his hands through his hair, his movements short and agitated. “I cringe when I think of how naive I was, but when Denmar began courting me, I warmed quickly to the attention.” He lowered his voice. “I'd spent years isolating myself from the rest of the world for fe
ar someone would learn of my powers. Now, here was a man showering me with affection and praise. I hardly dared believe my good fortune.” Alric swallowed. “By the time Denmar proposed, I was absolutely besotted."

  Alric's voice was thick was self-directed anger. Gareth understood all too well the seductive power of self-blame, but he hated to see Alric punishing himself for being taken in. “This is Denmar's fault, Alric. Not yours."

  "He couldn't have manipulated me had I not allowed it,” Alric said. “The worst of it is what happened when I told Denmar about my powers.” He curled his fingers into the blankets. “I'll say this for Denmar: he's a consummate actor. He feigned surprise, even going so far as to walk away, claiming he needed time to think. I was crushed, believing he would turn his back on me."

  Gareth watched the shadows play across Alric's features. “Is that why you hid them from me, because you thought I'd walk away?"

  "Most any man would.” Alric laughed at himself, the sound bitter and harsh. “Imagine my surprise when Denmar returned two days later, telling me that none of it mattered, that he still wanted me.” He looked up at the ceiling as if searching for absolution from his mistakes. “I fell right into his hands, begging my father to allow us to marry.” He sighed. “I'll spare you the details, but the short of it is, Denmar and I were married a scant month after he arrived at Kray."

  "By marrying you, he thought he'd found a way to claim Kray's throne."

  "'Twas more than that.” Alric paused as if thinking. “He wanted the throne badly enough, I suppose, but Denmar's real challenge was finding a way to exploit my abilities for his own maximum gain."

  "In other words, Gareth said, “there's no such thing as enough power where Denmar is concerned."

  "He would have used me to challenge and conquer as many kingdoms as possible,” Alric said. “Damned if he wouldn't lay siege to Banning itself if he thought he could get away with it."

  Gareth didn't doubt it. “When did you find out the truth about him?"

  "The revelation was mostly Adela's doing. She was enraged to the point of insanity when she learned of Denmar's plot. My marriage marked the end of her chance to escape my father. Father attributed her odd behavior to unhappiness over their age difference. He tried his best to placate her any way he could, but nothing helped. Though she kept the reason for her tantrums hidden, once again, Adela fell right into Denmar's hands."

  "How so?"

  "Denmar was anxious to take me away from Kray, but Father was reluctant to let us leave. He believed we needed to stay home and prepare for the day when Denmar and I would be joint rulers of Kray. Denmar used Adela's crazed spells as an excuse, claiming ‘twas impossible to begin a marriage in the midst of such goings on. Father held fast for many weeks, but finally gave in when Adela grew near uncontrollable. She'd stopped bathing and had taken to sleeping on the floor of the hall with the wolfhounds."

  Gareth whistled. “Was she truly crazy, then?"

  "Not in the slightest.” Alric's tone left no room for doubt. “When Adela realized Denmar wasn't going to swoop in and save her from my father, she decided to save herself."

  "She was going to kill Declan.” The true brilliance of Adela's plan hit Gareth, then. “By pretending to be crazed, Adela was giving herself an excuse should she be charged with Declan's murder."

  "That's the way of it. As soon as Denmar and I left Kray, Adela put her plan into motion. She snuck from the castle late one night and visited a hag who lives in a hovel not far from the keep. The old woman brews potions and poultices, mostly for healing purposes. For Adela, the hag brewed a sleeping draft of belladonna."

  "Nightshade?"

  "The same. Harmless enough when used in small doses, fatal when one takes too much. Adela poured enough into my father's wine to make certain he never woke."

  "How did you come to know all this? Obviously Adela's plan failed, so how did you and your father learn of it?"

  "Adela made a mistake.” Alric shifted again, as if trying to steady himself. “The potion she gave my father was steeped from the berries of the nightshade, not the roots."

  "I don't understand."

  "Nightshade is one of those rare plants where each part—from root to stem—is pure poison. Even so, some parts of the plant are stronger than others. The roots are the most deadly, the berries the least so. The concoction the hag made was strong enough to put Father to sleep, yet too weak to kill him.

  Gareth was starting to understand. “Adela didn't know that."

  "No. When my father began to lose consciousness, Adela believed him to be dying. She was so proud of herself, she couldn't resist bragging. Before Father fell asleep, Adela confessed everything, from her affair with Denmar and the first plan that went awry, to Denmar's real reasons for wanting me. Once Father collapsed, she summoned the healers, swearing the king was the victim of some sudden, unknown ailment. Adela then went back to her own chamber, preparing herself to play the grieving widow. Too bad for her, my father woke seven hours later with a damnable headache and a full memory of her foul deeds."

  "I'm not generally in favor of hitting women, but I pray your father beat the life out of her for what she'd done."

  Alric shook his head. “Father was so desperate to reach me, he wasn't overly worried with Adela. He kept her well guarded and locked in the North Tower, but his first priority was rescuing me from Denmar's clutches."

  "Judging from those marks on your back, I'd say your father was a touch late.” Fresh anger filled Gareth as he thought of the pain Alric must have endured. “How long were you married before Denmar began beating you?"

  "The first lashing came the week after we arrived at Denmar's holding.” Alric's voice was soft and flat. “Some peasant squatters had roosted on Denmar's land, and he wanted me to practice my talents by getting rid of them—permanently. ‘Twas the first step in his plan to hone my skills for his own use."

  "You refused?” Gareth already knew the answer, but asked the question, anyway.

  "Yes, and as you've seen, Denmar doesn't take rejection kindly. He hated the idea of being wed to a man he couldn't control. He decided he must break me, and each time I refused him, thereafter, another punishment was meted out."

  "Why didn't you use your powers against him? Why allow him to do that to you?"

  Alric's voice was low but steady. “Do you think someone as cunning as Denmar hadn't thought of that? He made certain I couldn't use my powers, not even to save myself."

  Gareth was afraid to ask, but he had to know. “How?"

  Alric picked at a small hole in the blanket, falling quiet for a time as he worried the fibers with his fingertips. Finally, he said, “Creating fire is easy for me. It's in my veins, running under the surface of my skin. Sometimes I think I am the fire. A being of pure flame: the legendary phoenix pored into the flesh of a mortal man.” He managed a rueful smile. “Sorry. Got fanciful for a moment.” Alric cleared his throat and began again. “As I was saying, creating fire is second nature to me. Controlling it, on the other hand, is an act of will that took me years of practice to learn. Even now, conditions have to be just right or the flame can still get away from me.” He looked into Gareth's eyes. “From the moment of my first refusal to burn those squatters, Denmar kept me tied to the beamed ceiling of a dry wooden shack behind his keep. At first I tried to fight him, but the attempt did me little good.

  Gareth remembered the mark on Denmar's cheek. “You burned his face."

  "Before he locked me in the shack, yes. Afterwards I had no way to release the fire without burning the whole place to the ground and me with it.” His voice shook, but he never broke eye contact. “As the beatings and torture grew worse, my resolve weakened, and I no longer cared whether I lived or died. I'd almost made up my mind to burn us both straight to the Under Realms when Denmar upped the stakes.” Alric turned his head then, but not before Gareth saw a fine sheen of moisture in his eyes.

  When Alric at last turned back to face Gareth, his eyes were dr
y, but haunted. “Denmar has a son, a child he sired by one of his lady mother's handmaidens. Denmar knew me well enough to believe I would never harm an innocent babe. He made certain I couldn't kill myself by locking the child and his mother into the shack with me. If I'd dared use my powers to kill myself, they'd have perished alongside me."

  Gareth's stomach turned, but Alric was too caught in the past to notice his discomfort. “The torture continued for Creator only knows how long. By the time my father and his army arrived to rescue me, I truly was mad, the pain and torment having eaten away at my mind. I remember nothing of that time save for screaming in pain when my father finally liberated me from my wooden prison and tried to take me into his arms. I'm told Denmar gave quite the fight, but my father had the Council on his side. King Elwin himself issued the order to annul the marriage.” He took a long, slow breath. “The day I was taken from that shed marked the last time I saw Denmar. Until our wedding day, that is."

  Gareth bit back waves of nausea. Not only had Denmar sorely used the young prince, but Gareth had compounded Alric's misery by taunting him about his marriage. He was so racked with guilt, he didn't realize Alric was looking up at him, waiting for him to say something.

  Gareth coughed down the bile in his throat. When at last he could speak, he said, “That may have been the end of your marriage, but ‘tis far from the end of the story. You've yet to tell me why your stepmother's family blames you for her death."

  For a moment, Gareth thought Alric would refuse to finish the tale. As it was, Alric hesitated a long moment before saying, “You may not believe this, but even after everything she'd done, I never would have harmed Adela. Not on purpose, leastwise. I've always believed The Creator should mete out justice, not man. My father planned to deliver Adela back to her family and let them deal with her. As soon as my madness began to subside, I agreed wholeheartedly with his decision.” His eyes pleaded with Gareth's for understanding. “'Tis the truth. I swear it."

  "But why would you and your father absolve her so easily of her sins? Why not send her to Banning so she could answer to the Council for her crimes?” Gareth couldn't fathom the level of forgiveness it must have taken not to hang Adela by her pretty little neck. “For that matter, why allow Denmar to get away with what he did to you? Why didn't Declan crush him like the insect he is?"