Flame Taker (The Clash and the Heat Book 2) Page 2

  “It’s proof,” he said. “The proof. You’re a virgin. It’s fine. You can’t have betrayed me. You were always pure the entire time.”

  “I’m not pure.” I glared at him.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “You’re not showing people my blood on your stupid coverlet.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “No, because we’ve been married for months, and people will know that we’ve never been together, and that you lied about my being with child, and—”

  “Who cares? I’ll say I lied because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, because I’m desperately in love with you. I’ll…” He grinned at me. He was very happy about this. “I can’t believe all this time, you’ve been a virgin.”

  “I hate you,” I said, and I got off the bed.

  He let out a laugh. “Of course you do.” He looked down, nodding his head. “Of course,” he said again, more quietly.

  He sounded hurt, but I didn’t care. I did hate him, and whatever he’d just done to me had been horrid. I supposed I might have known that there couldn’t be any truth in that book of dirty stories I’d once found in my uncle’s collection, that the sisters would have had the right of it, that what passed between men and women was only pain and blood. I was there for his pleasure, but it would be nothing but pain for me.

  Just as my magic was only powerful if he was around.

  My nostrils flared. I was angry, but I also felt like crying.

  “I don’t hate you.” He looked up at me. “At all. I’m sorry this went so badly between us. I’m actually not… I’ve gone to pains to be somewhat skilled with women, but with you…” He shook his head.

  Pains? What did that even mean? “You delude yourself.”

  He stood up. “Perhaps.” He accepted this, his face twisting a bit. For a moment, I could see all his emotions written on his face, and then it was as if he pulled down the curtains, and he was as blank as he usually was.

  For some reason, this seemed to stab me in my chest, making me want to cry even more. What was wrong with me? Why was I always so blazing weak? “Listen, about the coverlet. I won’t have you displaying it.”

  “Why not?” He turned to look at it.

  That meant that I did too. It wasn’t a great amount of blood. It looked brown against the blue coverlet. It looked unreal, and my lower lip trembled. I bit down on it to make it stop.

  He still wasn’t looking at me. “If you’d only told me this.” And then he laughed again. “Oh, blazes, Dubois could have told me. He enjoyed making me think you were his.” He looked at me. “And you’re not, you know. You’re mine.”

  “I don’t belong to anyone.”

  “No, you’re mine now,” he said, “whether you like it or not, and that’s proof. And I’ll do what I like with it.”

  I let out a noise, something uncontrolled and high-pitched. It was an expression of rage, but it sounded like grief, and I hated myself for it, but then flames burst out of my hand, and I gaped at them in wonder. I had done it. I had summoned my flame myself. How had I done it? Could I do it again? Why was it so difficult for me to do this?

  Oh, but why was I wasting this? I ran for the coverlet, intent on burning it to ash.

  Remy intercepted me, seizing my wrist and holding it aloft.

  I struggled in his arms.

  He ignited, head to toe, flames everywhere. “Stop,” he growled.

  I thrashed against him, and flames shot off of his body. One hit the curtains and they went up, but the others went out in midair and nothing got on the bed. I couldn’t get past him. He was stronger than me, and his stupid magic—

  But I could do something about that, and so I did. I took his fire. I took all of it, squeezing my way into him and extinguishing it completely, just as I had the time before, when we were in the dungeons. The only thing about it that I regretted was that I had to extinguish my own magic to accomplish it, and once it was done, I knew there was no hope of finding my power again. It had crawled down deep inside me, sluggish and slow.

  I let go of him, uttering another cry of rage.

  He backed away, turning his hands over in front of his face. “You doused all my magic.”

  What I should have done was to steal his magic, pull it into me, and then I could have burned down his entire castle with the force of the power. Why had I put it all out?

  I rushed toward the bed again, going for the coverlet.

  He stopped me again. He held both of my wrists, pinning them to my sides. “Fine,” he breathed. “Fine, I won’t display the stupid coverlet. All right? Calm down.”

  I glared up at him. For whatever stupid reason, I still felt like crying. “Give it to me.”

  “No,” he said. “I won’t display it, but I’m keeping it.”

  “You’re perverse.” I spat it in his face.

  This sides of his mouth twisted upwards in a semblance of a smile. “Perhaps I am.”

  “Let go of me,” I said.

  “I won’t,” he said. “You’ll just try to take the coverlet.”

  “No, I only want to leave,” I said. “I want to get away from you. I can’t stand the sight of you anymore.”

  “Then I’ll escort you to the door,” he said, and he dragged me there.

  I tumbled out into the hallway, and his guards all looked up to see me, and I could only imagine what I looked like. I touched my hair, wondering how disheveled it was. Remy had already divested himself of half of his clothes before this, so he stood there with his untucked shirt over his trousers, and he held my gaze as he closed the door in my face.

  * * *

  Later, I took the longest, hottest bath I could manage. I had servants running to bring more buckets of hot water to replace the water as it went cold. I wanted it scalding, but I couldn’t manage getting it hot enough.

  Eventually, I banished all the servants and slid down inside the wooden tub, and I cried.

  Not long.

  Only a few moments.

  I kept thinking about the way it had felt when Remy was inside me, moving, hurting me. I had been possessed by him at that moment, utterly at his mercy, and if he hadn’t stopped, I don’t know how long that pain would have gone on.

  I clutched at the walls, half-gasping, half-sobbing, panicked.

  “No,” I whispered to myself to calm myself. “You have power over him. You took all his magic.”

  I nodded, trying to make it sink in.

  I ducked under the water, washing the tears from my face.

  “And he wants you. That is power in and of itself,” I murmured.

  Oh, why had Guillame left me alone with the king? Why was I here to face all this on my own? How could it have been his plan for Remy and I to be together like that?

  My fingers wrinkled, my body wrung out, I called for my maid. I crawled out of my bath and into my robes and towels. Then I ordered the tub removed, and I lay down in my bed. I tossed out the wet towels and curled up naked under the blankets.

  I supposed it was a good thing, having the virginity issue out of the way. Maidenheads were pesky, and now mine was gone, and the bleeding was only supposed to happen the first time, right?

  It was only that everything about the experience had been unpleasant. I couldn’t see what was possibly supposed to be pleasurable about it, and some women did derive pleasure from it, didn’t they? They couldn’t all be pretending about that. Coralie had run away from her husband because of how much she cared about Remy.

  But I recalled a conversation I’d had with her, in which she’d indicated that Remy had taken his time working up to bedding her, that he’d spent a long time seducing her, doing other things, things with… with his mouth, if she could be believed.

  Maybe I just hadn’t done it properly.

  But I didn’t like thinking of Remy putting his mouth on Coralie. It was something I tried not to think about, because it always made me feel unsettled. I wasn’t sure why.

  I couldn’t help b
ut roll onto my back, pull the covers close to my chin, stare at the ceiling, and wonder if it would have been different with Guillame.

  Of course it would have been.

  Guillame would never hurt me.

  But Guillame and left me, so I supposed it didn’t matter anymore. He had disappeared without even telling me a proper goodbye.

  “Your Majesty,” came a voice from the shadows.

  I sat up in bed, clutching the blankets to my chest. “I didn’t hear you come in, Ophelie.”

  A candle ignited, and I could see her across the room. She was my personal bodyguard, the key member of my queensguard, the most vicious killer I knew. She used to be my lady’s maid. She approached me and then sat down on the side of the bed so that we were looking each other in the eye.

  That was very forward of her, but Ophelie was often forward.

  “I can kill him for you, if you want,” said Ophelie.

  “Who?” I said.

  Her fingers smoothed out the covers next to her. She held my gaze, her eyes bright in the light of the candle. “The only man who ever did it to me, I killed. I’ve never let another get close.”

  “Did what to you?” I said in a tight voice.

  “Everyone knows,” she said. “He told his servants to wash the coverlet and keep it discreet. So, of course, they set about telling everyone they could, and the other servants told their masters, and now all the fiefs in court know that you and the king did not consummate your marriage until just tonight.”

  I sank down in the bed. My internal organs felt heavy. “He told them to be discreet? He wanted it washed?” But he told me he was going to keep it. Why did he say that? Just to get under my skin? He was perverse. Or maybe he was only pretending to want me. Maybe it was a game to him, like whatever game he’d played with Coralie.

  “Yes,” said Ophelie. “But as I said, it was a fool’s errand. It’s all over. I came as soon as I heard. You were smart to keep yourself intact for so long.”

  I sat up again. “I’m still intact, Ophelie.” I leveled my gaze at her. “So are you.”

  She smiled at me. “He was my first kill.”

  “You said that was your sister’s husband.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Hmm, interesting. She’d spun that murder to me as a favor to her sister, who was miserably saddled with a horrid husband. I supposed the sister might have wanted rid of a man who would force himself on Ophelie, but I thought I detected a more personal motive of revenge than Ophelie had indicated.

  On the other hand, I’d seen Ophelie’s approach to killing, and she did it because she enjoyed it, not for any other reason. For all I knew, she’d lured the man to her and stabbed him while was on top of her.

  “Do you want me to kill the king?” said Ophelie.

  “No, not yet,” I said. And then I shook my head. “Not ever. If he’s going to die, I’m going to be the one to do it. And I don’t have the kind of power or influence to survive with him gone yet.”

  Ophelie regarded me with respect and awe. She thought we were the same. We weren’t. It was easier for her. Killing wrenched things inside me, and I felt guilt. She felt nothing except the joy of the kill.

  I smiled at her. “Thank you for offering. It means a lot.”

  “Of course, my queen,” said Ophelie. “Anything you need, just ask.”

  * * *

  I did not want to go to court the next day, but I knew if I put it off, it would be worse, so I had my maid dress me the next morning. I wore the trousers that I favored, which were not quite like men’s, but instead billowing and a bit feminine. I wore them along with a corset and a long-sleeved shirt on top. For evening wear, I switched to short sleeves and gloves. In Dumonte, the custom was for morning wear to be long-sleeved and evening wear to be more fancy and short-sleeved. Why, I had no notion, but I did my best to conform to their nonsensical ideas. If I would rule here someday, I would need to be accepted by the people.

  I wore my crown. I did not wear it often, because it was heavy and a bit uncomfortable, but I felt the need of it that day, like a protective bit of metal that made me feel regal and untouchable.

  Remy was in the antechamber of the throne room when I arrived. He looked up at me when I came through the door, and he looked every bit as impeccably put together as I did. His hair was even gathered into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, exposing more of his face.

  I mocked him anyway. “You look like you didn’t sleep well. Up all night rubbing yourself against that bloody coverlet you kept?”

  He blinked. “Yes, you know me so well,” he said dryly. “I must say, you’re much more enjoyable in my fantasies about you.”

  And that actually stung me for some reason. It was hardly fair, of course. The experience had been only pain and degradation for me, and I hadn’t mocked his prowess. I supposed I could now, in retaliation, but it wouldn’t land, not now that he’d said it first. It would sound childish, tit for tat. I pressed my lips together. I said nothing.

  He stepped closer to me. “I apologize,” he muttered. “That was unkind of me.”

  Startled, I looked up, meeting his gaze.

  His expression was soft. There was pity hidden in it somewhere, and that made my blood boil.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “The truth is that I did not keep it,” he said. “It seemed appalling in light of your wishes. After what I had done to you, it would have been monstrous to have done that. You wanted it destroyed. I had it washed. There is no proof. I shan’t tell anyone—”

  “You idiot,” I said. “Your servants have spread it all over court. Everyone knows.”

  He looked surprised. “Truly? How do you know?”

  I just pushed past him. “I think the court awaits us.”

  “Fleur,” he called after me. “Wait.”

  I didn’t wait. I went through the door on the far wall and out into the throne room. Every member of the court was in attendance. I had never seen the place so packed. They had all been talking amongst themselves, but at the sight of me, they quieted.

  I felt their gazes on me, and it took everything I had to keep my head high and walk carefully across the dais and take my place in my throne.

  Remy was right behind me. He stalked across the dais quickly, eyes cast down, and settled into his throne.

  It was still deadly silent.

  Remy raised his head, looking out at the gathered fiefs and their wives and daughters and sons. “Well, no need to call things to order this morning, it seems. What do we have today?” He turned to look at the chief court official, who was already in his place, below the dais.

  “There is a contingent concerned that Your Majesty has not visited Rzymn and brought back the new carale,” said the chief official. “They wish to speak to you. Shall I call them forth?”

  “No need,” said the king. “We wish it to be known that we are leaving in two days time for Rzymn. The queen will accompany us. Camte Corentin of Luvinne, who so bravely defended our walls against usurpers days ago, will be in charge of the court in our absence.”

  I wanted to turn to him, gaping in surprise and annoyance, but I didn’t, because it would make me look weak. I simply stared straight ahead, keeping my expression mild. I was accompanying him? He hadn’t thought to ask, I suppose?

  “Is the queen accompanying you so that you can be sure to plant a seed in her virgin womb?” called someone from the crowd.

  Remy ignored this and addressed the chief official. “Next on the docket?”

  “Several petitioners concerned about rebuilding the wall outside the castle,” he replied. Remy had burned down the wall when taking the castle back from the Camte Chastain, who’d tried to overthrow him.

  “How’s a woman to be with child when she’s never known the touch of a man?” called the same voice.

  This time, Remy turned in the direction of the voice. “How’s a woman to have committed treason if she’s pure?”

  “You didn’t kn
ow,” said someone else, and a low murmur was breaking out of the crowd. “You protected her with an absurd story—”

  “My queen is the heir of Islaigne,” Remy interrupted. “You have seen my power over the living flame, but it is in her blood to have mastery over it. I am powerful without her, but I am twenty times more powerful with her. The queen is important, and yes, I did whatever I could to protect her. I will not lose her, and if you wish our kingdom to reach its full potential, you will value her as well. There will be no more discussion of this subject, and there will be no more speculation on the queen’s moral character. She is above reproach, and I thank you all to remember that.”

  “But you lied to the court!” called one of the fiefs.

  Remy got to his feet. “We are not hearing any more discussion on this matter.” He lifted his chin. “If anyone wants to address us about the rebuilding of the wall, you have precisely thirty seconds to be in front of us and speaking.” His eyes flashed. “Anyone?”

  Two fiefs scurried forward, bowing as they did so.

  Remy looked them over and sat back down on his throne. “Very well, then. Proceed.”

  “Your, um, Your Majesty,” said one of the fiefs, “we are eager to put forth our services for rebuilding.”

  “Excellent,” said Remy. “You will begin work as soon as possible.”

  “You do not wish to hear our bid?” said the other fief.

  “You must hear all the bids,” called someone from the gathered court. “And then decide amongst us, who you will give the job to.”

  “Must we?” said Remy, nonplussed. “We are the king. We shall do as we please. We pick these fiefs, and that is that. That’s all for today.” He got to his feet again. He gave me a look.

  I stood up, too.

  He offered me his arm.

  I didn’t want to touch him, but I took it.

  We strolled out, and I could hear the whispers beginning as soon as our backs were turned.

  Once through the door and in the antechamber, I pulled my arm away.

  “If you hadn’t taken my magic, we could have given them a demonstration,” he said, fiddling with the lace at his throat.

  “What if I don’t want to go to Rzymn with you?” I shot back.