“Aye. ’Tis more than I ever expected,” she admitted.
“But what you deserve as my daughter.”
She had no words to reply to his declaration, so she remained silent and waited on his reasons for calling so late in the night.
“Come.” He lifted the latch on the door and opened it. “I would like to show you your heritage.”
Though she hoped to see paintings or tapestries of ancestors or castles, Brienne did not delude herself. Her heritage was the power she’d inherited. This would be a test, and she had no doubt that failure would mean exile or death.
Unlike Adelaide,this one did not flinch under his gaze. Oh, he knew she was afraid. He could feel her terror, feel of the emotions pulsing through her right now, but he sensed her curiosity balancing out those fears.
As she followed him from the bedchamber, Hugh tried to remember who had birthed her. He paid little attention to which whelp came from which bitch unless it was his hunting hounds. Over the years he’d fathered a dozen or more bastards. He would ask Alain, who paid attention to these matters.
When she glanced up at him, he felt a flicker of recognition in the way her brow lifted and in the nervous smile on her lips. A wave of acid rolled in his gut then, and Hugh feared he knew the truth of her origins.
“Have I displeased you, my lord?” she asked softly as they walked to the other end of the smaller keep and then up the stairs. He shook his head.
“How many years have you, girl?” She must be younger than Adelaide, and if she was, then it was not possible. It could not be possible.
“I will be eight and ten when I mark the anniversary of my birth in the summer. At least that is what my parents—what Gavin and Fia—told me.”
She’d been born on the summer solstice eighteen years ago.
A year before Adelaide. Before his marriage to Margaret, which had seemed so promising to his father. She’d been born to—
He forced himself to stop remembering the rest of it. Controlling himself was an action he’d perfected, and he enforced it now, pushing away any memories that would interfere with a millennia of plans. They’d reached the corridor that led to his chambers.
“No one comes down this hallway without my permission, Brienne. Do you understand?” At her nod, he guided her down the darkened corridor, causing the torches to burn brighter to light their path. There was the slightest hesitation in her step, but she continued at his side.
Promising.
As he lifted the latch on his door, he heard the slight intake of breath as she prepared herself for what would come. He smiled then. The wench had no idea what she would face.
Once inside, he closed the door and they stood in complete darkness. When one controlled fire, one did not need to leave candles burning, he thought. Now her fear began to overwhelm her curiosity, and he felt her begin to tremble.
“Go ahead, Brienne. Show me.”
He liked this one, for she did not pretend to misunderstand him or his order. She took in a long, deep breath, and as she released it, Hugh found he was holding his.
If she was his daughter, if she inherited his power over fire, if he could bring her into his plans, their power would be infinite. So much depended on this unexpected turn of events, not the least of which was his own life. A sacrifice from the fireblood line would ensure Chaela’s success and his survival. And he intended to survive.
The room filled with light and heat as she created fire in her outthrust hand. The flames burst forth and burned brightly between them. He smiled. A good sign. She was untrained but carried the power of his bloodline.
“Must you hold out your hand to begin it?” he asked, watching the intense concentration on her face. “Just bring it forth,” he urged.
The room plunged into darkness for a few seconds as she dropped her hand and let it extinguish. Then once more Brienne made the fire burn between them. Hugh nodded and walked behind her.
“Larger,” he ordered. She made it larger. “Brighter.” A human would have had to shield his eyes at the intensity of the light she brought forth. But he looked on it and into it, assessing the power she had, and smiled again.
She calmed then. He felt the tension leave her, and the fire became more intense and more focused. Walking to the other side of the room, at the edges of what she’d created, he took the next step.
“Aim it at me.”
Darkness was her answer.
“I told you to aim your fire at me, Brienne. Do not disobey me now.” He took a step closer.
“I cannot, my lord,” she said in a whisper.
