City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) by H.O. Charles Read Free Book Online Page A

sweeter than they had when he had arrived. The colours of the cherry blossom appeared more vivid, the grass more vibrant and the sunlight brighter. He marched to one of the exits and made his way toward the guest quarters.
    The guest rooms were generously proportioned and not much smaller than his own. Their walls were decorated with monochrome weavings, most of which had some form of geometric pattern, though a precious few depicted plants and animals. So little in the way of living things .
    A four-spear bed sat in the centre of Lady Allain’s chamber, swathed in black sheets like a soldier that hid in the night. There were three arched windows that looked onto the opposite end of the gardens from Silar’s own, and white veils swept across each of those. A bathing room was situated to the right of the main door, containing a sizeable marble bath, a sink of similar grey and a rather stately throne of convenience. Silar sat in the leather armchair by the glossy, black onyx fireplace. He swung a leg over one of the arms and rested his head against the wing. The fireplace was empty, as the last vestiges of summer had maintained enough warmth in the chambers to preclude the need for a fire. Silar prodded at the grate idly with a poker while he waited. Lady Allain would return soon.
    He glanced down at the white rose in his lap. It was so perfect. He could not find a single fault in it. Even the thorns on the stem appeared idealised as if taken from a painting. Perfection taken into consideration, it would be a small token to please the lady. Likely she would not appreciate such a temporary object when he told her of his decision.
    He rather thought love-making was like a rose: sweet, pleasurable and perfect in the main, the pain of the thorns only becoming apparent once the admirer released it. Whichever creator had thought to design lovers to be punished upon separation had a cruel sense of humour. Though it was likely there was no creator, and that all the people who had been able to love freely or without fear of penalty had died-off, not spending long enough together to breed. He rubbed at the stubble on his top lip. It was beginning to itch.
    The door swept open soundlessly to admit Lady Allain to the room; a close-fitting skirt whisked with each step. Silar noted how well the pale green, shot silk complemented her dark skin. She did not look surprised at his presence in her chambers, but then he had developed a habit of turning up uninvited. “My Lady Allain, you look very fine this evening.” And she did. Her features were perhaps a touch bold to be feminine but she held them well; her chin was high and her eyes piercing.
    Lady Allain allowed a smile to blossom upon her face. “It is good that you have come to visit me. I have some important business to discuss with you.” She lowered herself delicately onto the rug at his feet.
    “Oh?” Silar brushed the rose along her jaw. He hoped to blazes she wasn’t going to talk to him about marriage.
    “I wanted to speak to you about marriage.”
    Follocks. This was not good. He struggled to hide his discomfort. “I see.”
    “You don’t want this. I know. I didn’t walk into this arrangement ignorant of your intentions.”
    “Then why-?”
    “I need your help. I’ll be a hundred next year and my parents are becoming anxious over my future. If they see me married to a good name like yours they will be happy. Otherwise they’ll... find someone. I have no desire to own you; you would be free to take any lover you wished. Of course, I’d expect you to extend the same courtesy to me.” Her dark features had taken a downward path from their usual positions, appearing to lament the loss of the strength that held them.
    Silar hated seeing a woman like her upset, since he always felt as if it were somehow his fault. Usually it was. “And what if one of us wanted to marry elsewhere? Do you think such a pretence would be easy to keep from your parents? The gossip here is