Chapter 8

T he stone walls echoed their footsteps back to them, and Ember's instinct was to tiptoe and stay quiet. This part of the castle didn't have the welcoming, busy feel of the halls she had already been through. This part was silent, foreboding, watchful. White candles lit their way and occasionally they passed an iron door welded with the symbol of two crossed swords. It was colder here too, a contrast to the sultry warmth she had experienced thus far, as though something was sucking the warmth out of the vicinity.

"The tournament takes days," Cole said conversationally as they walked. "It's a competition played over three elements: water, earth and air."

"And Lissa takes on the water element?"

"Yes. You probably noticed how she's more than adequately adapted for it, being a water sprite."

"I noticed … something," Ember said, thinking of those peculiar gills opening and closing, and of what she now understood were shimmering scales covering her body.

"And the winner of all gets to take the fire element, and the Kingdom," he said. "It's just up here."

They halted in front of another door, similar to all the others, but instead of the crossed swords emblem, the door displayed an iron moulding of a leafy tree. Cole turned the handle, and they entered.

The room was sunlit and airy, the opposite of what she'd seen of the palace so far, with arching windows overhead. From the twilight view from her room, she had assumed it was much, much later in the day, and the switch in time momentarily confused her, but the sight in the middle of the room chased that thought away just as quickly as it had come.

It was a tree, an impossible tree, towering high in the centre of the room, with spreading branches and leaves of fire. The flames crackled and glowed, giving off a pulsating heat that she could feel from the doorway. On the opposite side of the room was another door leading out, but she wasn't sure anyone could make it past the tree without getting singed.

"This is the heart of the kingdom." Cole pointed to something set into the trunk of the tree, which Ember had to squint to see, the flames making it difficult to discern. It was an orange jewel with a gold filigree surround and a chain hanging from it. The reflection of the flames made the stone glimmer and sparkle, looking as if it were turning and twisting, as if it were alive. "Whoever wins the tournament can take the pendant. The new Sword will wear it, and the Blade shall be imprisoned within it."

Despite the warmth, Ember felt a chill crawl down her back. Cole smiled and drew her out of the room, carefully closing the door. "And that's why I need to win."

The stone walls of the corridor were welcome after the heat of the fiery tree, and she made no protest when Cole asked if she'd like to see the gardens. Fresh cool air would be welcome.

The door at the end of the hall led to the outside, not into the formal gardens and fountain that Ember had seen from her room, but a different part of the grounds, with manicured green lawns and a sloping hill that led down to a wooded area. The sun shone brightly and again she felt that disconcerting sense of time displacement as she adjusted. Perhaps this was what jet lag felt like, she thought.

Behind her, the castle rose into the sky, a fairytale concoction of grey stone, flowering vines, turrets and spires, the castle she had seen in the fog. A racetrack lay to one side, fenced with white railings, with horses galloping round and round, the thudding of the hooves against the turf a rhythmical backdrop.

"They're training." Cole indicated the horses with a nod of his head and Ember did a double take when she realised they weren't horses at all. They were centaurs, like the one she had seen in the ballroom, bare-chested and wild, shouting to one another. Some carried bows and arrows, others had spears, and all were shooting and slashing at various targets around the track. "The first game is Earth. They will race. Some will die."

The matter-of-fact way he said it and the memory of Bruno's demise still fresh in her mind, made Ember's skin crawl. "They would die for you?"

Cole shrugged. "They are my conduit. My magic will run through their veins. If they die, a piece of me dies too. So, in a way, I suppose I'm dying for them as much as they're dying for me."

"Brutal," murmured Ember, and then blushed as she realised she had spoken her thought aloud, but Cole didn't seem to mind.

"This is the way of the Fae," Cole said, still focusing on the centaurs, his tone absentminded. "To enjoy everything, as much as we can get, until we're stuffed with it. We're gluttons of our own appetites, uncaring of consequences. We live, we love, we kill, we die. What more is there?"

Ember couldn't answer that. There was a strange appeal to it, this hedonistic life where nothing mattered but one's own satisfaction. No bills to pay, no comparison of life and status, no menial work, no responsibility. And then she thought of Lily, and of the morose dancers, and of whoever had made her food and clothes, and she guessed Cole was speaking of his own life, without consideration of the others who made up his world. It was easy to be hedonistic when you were at the top of the pile, Ember thought. Fae or human, the rich and powerful were the same everywhere.

"Would you like to sit?" Cole said, turning his attention away from the track and back to Ember. She coloured a little under his steady gaze and smoothed her skirts.

"I don't want to get my dress dirty. It's the prettiest one I've ever worn."

A frown flickered across his face as though dirt was something he'd never considered before in his life, and then he smiled. "Permit me," and gestured toward the bottom of the slope.

Ember blinked. She was certain that the fringed picnic blanket, fully laid out with cushions and food, wine glasses and a silver wine bucket, as well as a little vase stuffed with red roses, hadn't been there earlier. She would have noticed. Cole led her down the hill and they settled on the blanket. Ember took her slippers off and tucked her bare feet underneath her, wondering if it would be rude to ask Cole to magic her up a pair of sneakers. Her slippers were pretty, but hardly practical for outdoors.

He poured from a bottle of wine and handed her a glass. The frosted liquid was delicious, the bubbles dancing on her tongue. She leaned back into the cushions, hardly able to believe that this was her, Ember Bailey, once barely scraping by and living with an abusive brute, now relaxing beside a flamboyant castle while the handsomest man she had ever seen in her life poured her wine and gazed at her as though she were the most fascinating person in the world.

"Tell me about yourself," Cole said. "Beautiful Ember Bailey, pursued by angry men, destined for art school, and …" his voice trailed off and he looked embarrassed. "That's all I know."

She laughed. The wine was fizzing through her veins, and she felt light and happy. "There's not much more, believe me."

"Did you grow up in that town?" he asked.

"No. I've been there for… five years now? My parents died when I was young, and then I got put into the system, you know, and as soon as I could, I left and ended up there. But I was planning on leaving. Literally. I was on my way when you showed up."

She raised her glass and took a sip, trying to cover her nerves, but her hand was shaking a little. She didn't enjoy talking about her past. It was like a series of photographic slides, slotting into her memory as if on a projector, glimpses of new schools, angry foster parents, ill-fitting clothes, hunger sometimes, social workers, other kids as lost as she was. But she was tired of all of that. It was time for paintings, not photographs, for her life to have meaning. She wanted to be a glutton of her own appetite. She wanted to paint and get lost in the art of her creation; to make something that meant something. She wanted a place of her own, a place where she mattered. Art school would lead to that place, she was sure of it.

"How did they die?" Cole said. His tone was gentle, and she gave him a wan smile.

"Car crash. The car went up in flames and … yeah. They pulled me out, but my parents were already dead."

A momentary frown creased his brow, and she wondered at that. But then he was leaning close, his thumb brushing away a tear that she wasn't even aware had fallen. "Don't cry, Ember."

"I'm not." She'd come to terms with her parents dying a long time ago, and in fact, she couldn't even remember a time when she had cried about it. Maybe when she was small. But her memories of that time were blurry. She couldn't remember anything clearly. But the pressure of Cole's flesh against hers was triggering a familiar tingle, and faint veins of pleasure were pulsating through her. She pulled back, suddenly remembering Lissa. Ember Bailey might be capable of a few dodgy things, but she did not mess with other people's property, no matter how much she …

Far from looking cross at her physical rejection of him, Cole looked amused, as if he had just discovered something new, something challenging. A sly smile creased the corners of his mouth and then he leaned forward, sliding a hand behind her hair, and pulling her close. He brought her to him, their lips just a hairsbreadth apart. The pleasurable tingles were sparking rapidly now, and she could feel something dark and heated in her gut, spreading down between her legs, turning her liquid. Lissa was nothing. Lissa was gone. It was Ember who filled that minute distance, she who brushed her lips against his, and taking up the invitation, he dragged her closer, his arms tight around her, his mouth on hers. She gave herself up to him in that moment, hungrily accepting his lips, his tongue, his breath, unable to stop a soft moan of desire as she clung to him. His hand snaked up her body to brush lightly against her breast, before pinching a hard nipple through the gauzy chiffon, making her gasp against his mouth with surprised pleasure and pain, and earning a soft growl of approval in return.

"Better watch out, cousin," came a lazy voice, cutting through the mist of Ember's rising passion, "Or Lissa will not be pleased."