Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

Draw nearer, sweet.

“No.”

Please . Gone was the wheedling tone, replaced by something darker, more ardent. It was the husky timbre she remembered from so long ago, and the flesh between her legs began to burn again. Reluctantly she turned; the fire leapt excitedly when it met her gaze.

—

Gwydion lives.

The serpentine eyes opened wide, then narrowed immediately.

“Impossible,” she said defiantly. “That pathetic Lirin traitor carried him to the Veil of Hoen, where he died. He never returned; I would have seen it.”

Sit beside me, sweet . The fire crackled invitingly. Please .

She continued to glare into the cold inferno, then slowly sank to the floor, her gown whispering around her as it fell in silken folds.

The fire gleamed ever brighter, casting flickering shadows and, finally, heat into the frigid chamber. Beads of perspiration moistened her hairline, the nape of her neck.

“Impossible,” she repeated.

Apparently there are things in this world that are hidden from your eyes, my flame . A roar of new heat, then the fire settled back, burning warmly. It matters not. He is no longer the one I seek .

“Why?” Her surprise made the word fall out of her mouth, and she swallowed hastily, as if that would help her call it back.

The firecoals glimmered. He must be even stronger now than he was then. As I said, it matters not. I have chosen another . A second pulsing glimmer. Then the voice again, whispering low. Take down your hair for me. Please .

As if it had a will of its own, her hand reached into the thick mane of tangled curls and touched the jeweled clasp at the nape of her neck. Her hand trembled as her fingers struggled to unbind it. Finally the clasp came free, and the mass of gleaming copper hair fell heavily across her shoulders. She could hear an audible intake of breath from within the hearth.

“You will spare him, then?” She hated the tremulous note that had crept into her voice.

The flames burned darkly for a moment, then resolved into bright heat again.

Do not ask questions you really don’t wish answers to, sweet. It dampens the mood.

The Seer laughed sharply. “Ah, so you don’t wish to be reminded of your own failures, then? I have not seen the death of the Patriarch that you predicted so long ago. Now, why is that? Did your plan fail you, as it did me? Or is the Patriarch your host now?”

The flames blackened immediately at her words, and the fire roared angrily.

Gentle, sweet. This is not ground on which you wish to tread . The fire burned hot, then settled once more into glowing warmth. The Three have finally come, as I assume you know .

She laughed. “Indeed. And they have taken Canrif, but what they are doing there defies my gift; I cannot see into the mountain.” Her tone grew darker. “When Gwylliam banished me he sealed that realm from my eyes; it is forever beyond my sight.”

The flames crackled erotically. Unlace your gown .

She laughed again. “You would pleasure me, then?”

Indeed. Unlace your gown, my flame, and I will tell you what else is beyond your sight. I will tell you of the Future.

The vertical slits in her blue eyes expanded in interest, though she fought to keep her face calm. Her fingers flew to her bodice, and quickly began to tug at the laces of her gown.

The voice in the fire chuckled. Ah, you still crave it, do you, sweet? It must be painful, never being able to experience the Present until it has become the Past . The flames danced as her fingers ceased untying the laces. Don’t stop, sweet. My time grows short .

Slowly she opened the bodice and slid the filmy sleeves from her arms. The firelight licked her golden skin, scored with infinitesimal lines resembling tiny scales, making it shine like burnished metal. She dropped her eyes, naked to the waist in the reflected glow.

You are ever beautiful, sweet . The warm words inspired a ferocious blush, starting at her lonely heart and radiating outward to the tips of her long fingers. Time has not marked even a day on you since last we coupled in passion on the floor of the Great Hall. Do you remember, my flame ? “Yes.”

Come closer. Remove your gown.

Slowly she stood, the bodice and sleeves gathered in her arms, clutched across her waist. Then, with one fluid movement she let go, and the brocade silk nightgown rolled to the floor like an ocean wave.

“Why do you not come to me in the flesh?” she whispered. “It is so lonely here in the cold mountain.”

Certain obligations of my current host proscribe that pleasure of the flesh from me now. But fear not, sweet. Soon I will give up this body and move on to one you are certain to enjoy more . The fire settled back into coals. Come into me . She laughed, not the tinkling laugh of a young woman, but the strident sound of trumpets blaring victory. “Words I once spake unto you.” I remember . The flames died back even further. Come into me, sweet . Slowly she approached the hearth, then knelt down before the fire. Trembling in anticipation, she lay back and slid her long legs slowly into the maw of the vast hearth.

The firecoals gleamed gently, then more intensely. Tiny flames appeared, and began licking her legs, dancing over her body, heating her blood. She exhaled and moved closer, letting the growing heat melt the bitter sting between her legs. Sweet .

Sweat trickled between her breasts now, as tongues of flame crawled over her thighs, seeking to explore her more intimately. The harsh loneliness that had taken root within her warmed and withered to ashes, leaving nothing but willing need, calling in silent, multitoned voices from within her wyrm blood. The flames surged, rolling up over her waist, lighting her breasts with a glowing radiance. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the fire’s blissful ministrations, then spoke again as her excitement began to mount. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me of the Future.”

A billow of heat pushed her legs further apart, reaching up into her, and she gasped in pleasure.

Soon I will take the Patriarchy , the voice from the hearth whispered back. The setback on the Holy Night was temporary. When I am Patriarch I will crown Tristan Steward king, and, then take him as well, in the moment before the crown touches his brow, while he is still the weaker of us, discarding the old body like chaff . The fire surged again, wrapping around her, entering her fully, and she cried out in joy. Finally the army will be mine; Roland will join with Sorbold and Gwynwood. We will take the mountain. Then I will have the Child. And then the key. And then the Vault. And then the Earth .

“From without? But—”

The flames crackled, sending hot shivers through her, and she gasped again.

No, sweet; I have already thought of that. Even you could not wrest the mountain from your accursed husband; the mountain fell from within, as well as without . The flame pulsed abruptly, showering her with sparkling embers. The means are already in place .

She began to breathe more shallowly, stretching her arms lazily above her head, feeling the fire move over her, swirling in rivers of flame around her breasts, caressing her throat. Her moan of ecstasy all but drowned out the quiet words.

I require your assistance, sweet. Say you will .

“How—”

No . The word was terse and cold; with its utterance, the fire died back, smoldering in angry coals. She shivered violently with its loss. No, my flame. Do not ask “how” first. Once you pledged me anything I asked to achieve your ends, and I fulfilled the bargain. You are still in my debt, sweet. You will deny me nothing. Say you will do whatever I ask .