Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (28 page)

A ruckus erupted outside the door. Panic shot through Ravyn. She jumped off the bed, raced to Rhys’s room, and shoved the journal into his bag. As quietly as possible, she slid the bolt on his door and jogged to her room. Loud thuds sounded near the base of her door.

“Who is it?”

“Luc,” he grunted.

Ravyn opened her door.

A large trunk was perched precariously on one of his shoulders, and he held a smaller wooden box under his arm. He scowled. “A little help, please.”

“Sorry.” She pulled open the door and retrieved the smaller box. He pushed past her and tramped into the room, setting the crate at the foot of her bed. Ravyn stuck her head out the door before closing it. Three women watched from down the hall, their expressions stony.
So much for discretion
.

“How many gowns did you bring?” he said. “This is heavy.”

She shut the door and faced him. “I only brought one gown. These are my weapons—crossbow, arrows, and a few short spears.”

“You must have an entire arsenal in there.”

“Well, you know how we girls are, Luc. If I wear my black leather, then my crossbow looks nice. If I’m wearing green, then a nice thin saber or short spear is the weapon of choice.”

He shook his head. “You’re the only woman I know who accessorizes her artillery.”

“Functionality is no reason to disregard fashion,” she teased. “So, did you get Jade settled?”

“Yes,” he snapped. He stood and paced across the room. “There’s something off about that woman.”

“She may be a bit of an eccentric, but she saved my life—all our lives.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Still there’s something about her. She’s too secretive…and irritating.” He raised his voice to imitate Jade. “Give me back my bag. Don’t escort me. Stop following me. Put me down.”

Ravyn blinked. “Put me down?”

“She wouldn’t stay where I told her to so I picked her up and carried her.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. The woman needs a good lesson in humility.”

“Luc.” Ravyn shook her head. “You’re dense.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one screeching like a banshee.” He dropped onto the chair with a sigh.

“I think you like her.”

“
Like
her? I’d rather contract the plague than be around her. I was watching her because you told me to. Remember?”

“I remember, but I also tried to tell you I’d changed my mind about her being involved with the Bane.”

He grunted as if unconvinced.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So what did you find out?”

He rose from the chair and paced. “Nothing.”

“Did you kiss her?”

Luc stopped and looked at her. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“A great deal.”

Rhys opened her door and stopped. His gaze rebounded between her and Luc as he hovered in the doorway. He pinned her with his icy stare tinged with—was that jealousy?

“What’s going on?”

She ignored the flutter in her stomach. “Luc likes Jade.”

“I do not.” Luc pointed at her and said to Rhys, “How can you stand her? She’s so irritating.”

Rhys said nothing, only continued to stare.

“How’d the meeting go?” Ravyn asked him.

Luc perked up. “You met with the Council already?”

“Yes. They don’t trust me.”

“From what I hear,” Luc said, “they don’t trust anyone, including one another.”

“What did you tell them?” Ravyn asked.

“Exactly what they asked for and nothing more. Fromme Bagita wasn’t very happy with me.” Rhys seemed extremely satisfied with himself. “He took an exceptional dislike to my answers.”

“You weren’t supposed to antagonize them,” Ravyn said.

“I simply answered their questions.”

“Don’t you mean answered their questions
simply
?” Luc asked.

“You’re splitting hairs,” Rhys said. “They already know I’m difficult. They would become suspicious if I was suddenly cooperative.”

“When do I meet with them?” She couldn’t keep her voice from wavering.

He sighed. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll escort you. I want them to know you’re protected.”

For once, she would happily let him play protector and savior. The bell chimed in the cabinet, breaking the tension in the room. Rhys opened the cubby door to reveal three platters heaping with hot, delicious-smelling food. They each gathered a dish and carried it to the round table in the middle of Ravyn’s chamber. Within minutes, a meal fit for royalty had been set. Her mouth watered as she bent and inhaled the savory aroma of duck, tiny potatoes, and some vegetable she couldn’t identify, with a platter of sugar cakes and tarts for dessert. If she kept eating like this, she’d have to revisit Madam Turner to purchase bigger leathers.

They spent the rest of the evening eating and speculating on what the Council would do during its interrogation. After the fifth time being told not to reveal her firepower, Ravyn yawned. She moved to her bed and lay down, her head sinking into the pillow. “I understand. No fire.”

Luc stood and stretched. “I’m off to bed. I’ll be here in the morning to escort you as well.”

Ravyn’s heart swelled at his protective nature. “Thank you.”

Rhys rose, and gazed at her for several seconds.

She stared back, wondering what he was thinking, hoping he would stay.

“Get a good night’s sleep,” he said.

He scooted back the chair and walked to the adjoining door. She mentally sighed. Nobody could accuse Rhys of being weak-willed.

Luc’s brow knit, his look silently asking her what was wrong.

Ravyn shrugged.

He scowled.

She shook her head, telling him not to push the issue.

Then he shrugged.

The entire silent conversation happened before Rhys reached his door.

“Coming, Luc?” he asked over his shoulder.

Luc picked up a small berry tart and popped it in his mouth. “Good night, Ravyn.”

“Good night.”

He was like a large child at times. She smiled as he left the room licking his fingers. Rhys glowered at him and pulled the door between their rooms shut.

She climbed out of bed and stacked the dishes inside the cubby. After giving the bell pull a yank, she stripped off her clothes. Cool night air brushed her skin and sent tiny goose bumps along her arms. She rummaged in her bag and her fingers grazed the purple gown Madam Turner had given her. The material shimmered as she slid it across her hand. She’d brought it on a whim, a decision that now made her feel foolish. She laid the dress over the back of the chair.

The quiet click of the lock echoed around her silent chamber. She scowled at the door. What did Rhys think? She was so madly in love with him she wouldn’t be able to restrain herself?
Arrogant oaf.

Chapter Twenty-three

Morning came too quickly. Ravyn rolled onto her back and jumped when her gaze fell on Rhys. He sat in the straight-backed chair, watching her. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Was she dreaming? “What are you doing here?”

“I think you should wear a gown to see the Council,” he said.

“What?” She sat up and stretched. The sheet pooled around her waist, exposing her thin shift. She noticed his eyes linger on her breasts. Maybe he wasn’t as immune to her as he’d like to believe. “Why?”

He rubbed his hand over the black stubble on his face. “You look too formidable in your leathers. Your gown will make you appear less threatening. The Council may even underestimate you.”

She answered with an unladylike snort. “I think I’ve forgotten how to act meek.”

“Just be yourself. This group is drunk on its own importance. They won’t want to believe you’re more powerful than they are.” He paused and lifted his arm. The flimsy purple gown dangled from his fingers. “What is this?”

Ravyn cleared her throat and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She walked across the room, plucked the garment from his hand, and stuffed the dress into her bag. She turned to face him. “A gift.”

He fired his next question. “From whom?”

“A friend.” She let the innuendo hang in the air. If he was jealous, so much the better. “Now, please leave so I can get dressed.”

He stood and stared at her, his unasked questions filling the room. She stared back, not willing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

A knock on his chamber door pulled Rhys’s attention from her. He stomped into his room and closed the adjoining door. Not wasting any time, Ravyn dressed in her one conservative blue gown and leather boots. She dug a wooden brush from her bag and tried to tame her mass of hair. With deft fingers, she divided and plaited the strands into a single, thick braid, then surveyed herself in the mirror.

“That’s about as proper as I’m going to get.”

She stored the rest of her things inside the trunk and dragged her dagger from under the pillow. The sensation of binding wrapped around her hand as she slipped the weapon into her boot. She stuffed the tome and Bowen’s journal between her mattresses. No sense in tempting curious Bringers.

The words from Rhys’s father’s diary floated back to her. “In death there is life, in sacrifice return. All barriers destroyed and evil be spurned.” She stopped and stared at her hand. A prickle ran along the white scar where she’d cut herself with the dagger while fighting the Bane at the cemetery. She clenched and unclenched her fingers.

Rhys knocked. “Ravyn, are you ready?”

“Yes.” She squeezed her hand again and rubbed it against her thigh. “Coming.”

As she entered the room, she noticed Siban standing just inside the door. He bowed. “Morning, my lady.”

“Siban, what a surprise.” She glanced at Rhys.

“He took the transport after ours.” Rhys hesitated. “He says he needs to be here.”

Unease settled over Ravyn as she looked at the Tell. “Some-thing bad?”

“I don’t know, my lady. Better safe than sorry.”

She nodded. Yes, she was quickly learning better safe than sorry.

Somebody knocked and Siban leaned over and opened the door.

“Siban,” Luc said as he entered the room. “What a surprise.”

He grasped Luc’s forearm. “So I’ve been told.”

“Well, it looks like I have a formidable escort.” The three men stared at her with a mixture of protective ferocity and helplessness. “Stop looking at me like I’m a lamb going to slaughter? They’re only people.”

“Bringers. They are still Bringers,” Rhys growled. He turned to Luc. “I don’t like this. One of us should be in the chamber with her.”

Her anger flared. She was tired of Rhys expecting one thing, then disputing her every action. Expected to train but not allowed to fight. Expected to be a Bringer but only when it suited him. Willing to take her to his bed but not willing to take a chance on them.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need you holding my hand every step of the way.”

“You already underestimate the Council, even after I’ve told you not to.”

“I think I’ve done well taking care of myself so far, or have you forgotten the little incident two nights ago?” She regretted the words the second they spilled from her lips.

He bared his teeth at her. “I haven’t forgotten. There’s a huge hole in the deck of my ship to remind me.”

“Why you ungrateful son of—”

“Enough.”Luc stepped between them. The vehemence in his voice shocked Ravyn into silence. “This is neither the time nor the place for this argument.”

She crossed her arms and gave Luc a single nod, even though she wanted nothing more than to rail at Rhys. Was he actually angry about his ship, after she and Jade had saved the entire crew? Rage seethed just below the surface. What a fool to believe he could feel anything more than duty and obligation. What a fool to hope he’d been falling in love with her. Good thing she found out now that it took so little to fall out of his favor. With a stiff spine and her head held high, she marched out of the room.

Rhys fell in beside her while Luc and Siban posted themselves at her back. Some of her anger cooled as they passed through the halls of Illuma Grand. She could only imagine the spectacle they made. One small woman guarded by three imposing and strikingly beautiful men. People lined the walls, stopping to stare, openmouthed.

Rhys led her through what looked like a huge gathering room and down a wide marble staircase. As they descended deeper into the earth, the crowds of people thinned. Soon, all trace of the morning sun disappeared and only the flickering light from mounted braziers lit their way. By the time they reached the last step, nobody remained but the four of them.

“This is rather uninviting.” Her voice echoed in the polished marble hall. A chill ran up her arms.

“The Council loves drama,” Luc said.

Two arched doors loomed at the end of the passage. Rhys’s hand touched her waist and guided her forward. She didn’t pull away, needing any warmth and comfort she could get, even though she was still angry with him. Maybe she wasn’t as brave as she thought. Torches burned in the wall sconces, but the stark space lent a cold, unwelcoming feel to their golden light.

The huge, black doors of the Council chamber remained closed and forbidding. Ravyn and the men stopped and waited without speaking. Words seemed too harsh in the chill of the silent chamber, as if speaking would shatter the bond between the four of them.

She studied the carved design on the door. Mythical creatures swirled across the polished wood. The same dragon as Rhys’s healing pendant stretched along the panel of one door, and on the opposite side, a phoenix twisted in an aerial dance.

“Incredible,” Ravyn whispered. She ran her hand over the phoenix’s tail. Warmth seeped into her chilled fingers and across her hand. She rubbed her thumb over her fingertips and looked at Rhys. “What do the carvings mean?”

“Nobody knows. They’ve been here for as long as anyone can remember. Most believe they are nothing more than beautiful craftsmanship.” His hand glided across the dragon, and he smiled slightly. “But I think they have more significance.”

Ravyn noticed how his fingers caressed the ridge of the dragon’s back in an almost loving manner.

He lowered his hand and looked at her. “Ready?”

She released a heavy breath and squared her body. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Siban and Luc braced their hands against a door and waited. She took a deep breath and nodded. As Rhys’s hand slipped around her side, the other two shoved against the doors. Hinges creaked as the massive panels swung inward. Ravyn’s stomach roiled, and she silently counted to ten as the doors opened like the parting curtain of a play, slowly revealing the cast. Nine Council members faced her, each seated behind a long table that stretched across the back of the chamber—four women and five men.

Her instinct was to tighten her shields and protect herself. Instead, she lowered her barriers a little, opening herself to the vibrations of the room. She sent feelers of awareness outward, searching for information that would give her the edge.

A mixture of animosity, curiosity, disbelief, and even hopeful anticipation greeted her. At first touch, she couldn’t tell who exuded which emotion, but by the looks on their faces and their body language, it wouldn’t be difficult to figure it out.

Rhys pressed her forward. Four soaring arches intersected at the center of the room’s ceiling, directly above a large circle laid into the stonework of the floor. A buzz ran up her legs and out the top of her head when they stopped in the middle of the sphere. She shivered and mentally shook herself.

She glanced at Rhys and, by the look on his face, knew he also felt the power. The energy made her giddy, and she struggled to focus on the Council.

In each chair sat a Council member, and behind each member hung a portrait with his or her likeness. Most were tastefully painted and simply hung, but a few of them had been so ostentatiously posed and ornately framed they surpassed the boundaries of good taste.

Rhys bowed and tugged at the back of Ravyn’s skirt. She curtsied but said nothing.

His voice resonated through the chamber, deep and confident. “May I present Lady Ravyn Mayfield of Menda Abbey.”

A couple of the members smiled, some appeared bored, while the remaining few scowled. She didn’t need her Bringer intuition to know where the animosity emanated from. A large, bald man swathed in deep maroon brocade rose from the center seat at the table. Silver fox circled the collar of his robe, making him look like a lion. Ravyn bit back a laugh and cleared her throat, trying to subdue the room’s effect on her. She narrowed her lids and focused on him.

The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes when he spoke, and he ignored Ravyn. “Welcome, Lord Blackwell.”

The urge to laugh bubbled up again and nearly spilled out. What was wrong with her? Ravyn pinched her thigh. Hard. The pain brought back her focus, and she realized she should be insulted by this man’s rebuff.

He stared at Rhys in challenge.

Silence rang through the chamber. Three of the Council mem-bers shifted in their seats while the two closest to the man who’d just spoken smiled.

Ravyn bit the inside of her cheek.

“We will be waiting outside if you need us.” Rhys’s statement echoed through the chamber and she had no doubt he’d said it as a warning to the Council. He glared at the standing man for several seconds before leaving the room.

Hinges squeaked, and the soft
swish
of the doors sounded behind her. She stood alone and silent. Let him insult her. What the Council thought of her didn’t matter. This introduction was a courtesy Rhys had extended to them.

The large man leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Lady Mayfield, how interesting to have you here.”

It was neither a compliment nor an insult. She could play this game. “Thank you, Lord…?”

A few of the Council members cleared their throats and Jacob Le Daun chuckled, not bothering to hide his amusement. The two watchdogs next to the speaker scowled, their disdain pouring over her like a cold bucket of water.

“I am Fromme Bagita, but you may call me Lord Bagita.”

She inclined her head but said nothing more.

Lord Bagita folded his hands on the table in front of him, oozing superiority. “Do you know why you have been summoned?”

“You did not summon me, Lord Bagita.” She would let him know from the start that he wasn’t in control. “I believe you were informed of our impending arrival and Lord Blackwell requested this meeting.”

Fromme puffed up and opened his mouth to argue, but Jacob Le Daun cleared his throat. “She is correct,” Jacob said. “My son notified us of his arrival and requested an assembly on Lord Blackwell’s behalf so that we might meet Lady Mayfield.”

Bagita’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he turned a strained smile to Ravyn. “Well then, Lady Mayfield, why have we assembled? It must be a matter of significance to take us away from our important duties.”

“To warn you of the Bane threat. To tell you of my encounters with the demons.” She sifted through Rhys’s endless lecture from last night.
Not to show my abilities,
she reminded herself
.
The energy inside the room was making her body hum like a huge tuning fork. “Rhys offers this as a show of his willingness to cooperate with the Council.”

Fromme opened his arms wide. “So, Lord Blackwell has condescended to grace us with his presence and share what I am sure will be fascinating new information.”

Ravyn remained silent.

“That is so very like Blackwell.” Bagita folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Running on the assumption that the Council waits with bated breath for any tidbit of information he sees fit to share.”

“Lord Blackwell is concerned with the progression of the Bane.” She struggled to keep the accusation out of her voice. “And the lack of response from the Bringers of Illuma Grand.”

“Yes, we’re well aware of Blackwell’s inflated views of the Bane.” Lord Bagita relaxed into his chair and splayed his hands over his broad stomach, his chins pooling against the wide fur collar. “Has he not shared the fact that our ancestors annihilated the demons over a thousand years ago? Since then we’ve lived in peace.”