“I would be careful if I were you, pretty boy,” Elathan growled, pointing his sword at the copper-haired elf. “Lady Igraine is mine. If you dare to touch her, I’ll use this to adorn your handsome face with some carvings. It would be such a shame if the ladies at court refused to seek out the dubious honor of your company anymore.”
Calatin didn’t seem too impressed by this threat. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed, exposing a line of even white teeth.
“I am relieved you haven’t changed at all, Elathan,” he said.
Amazed, Igraine gazed at the prince. Knowing Elathan, she expected him at any moment to kill this impertinent elf who spoke to him in such a disrespectful manner. But her lover surprised her with a mischievous grin. Only an instant later, he jumped down from the tree like a cat, walked up to Calatin and crushed him in his strong embrace until he was dripping with wetness, too. The handsome elf didn’t appear to be very amused about the water stains on his armor. The smile wiped from his face, he looked down at himself, frowning.
Elathan stepped away from him, roaring with laughter.
“You haven’t changed either, my friend,” he said. “But it is good to see you again. Now tell me, what has brought you here? Surely you didn't leave behind all those maidens pining for you just to join me for dinner.”
The handsome elf paled visibly, and he dropped down to one knee before his prince, lowering his head. When he lifted his eyes to Elathan, they were earnest and full of sadness.
“Forgive me, Sire, for I do not bring good news. Your noble father, King Bres, is dead.” He waited, but when Elathan didn't move or speak, he continued, “There is no doubt that your brother Ruadan is responsible for his death. He has already acceded to the throne. My Prince, you have to return to court immediately and reclaim what is rightfully yours.”
Chapter 19: Flash of Lightning
Far away, in an ancient elven stronghold, another prince awoke from his dreams, terrified. He sat up abruptly under his silken sheets and wiped away the cold sweat from his brow. His ragged breathing was the only sound in the large chamber. For a moment it felt like someone watched him from the shadows that shrouded the marble walls in darkness. Soft, cruel voices began to whisper to him, a single, condemning word that pained him like a dagger plunged deep into his heart, the truth of it frightening him more than any real threat could ever have.
“Murderer,” the voices called him tenderly.
The huge fireplace set on the opposite wall didn't seem sufficient enough to warm him any longer. His smooth white skin felt cold like ice now, lifeless. Shivering, the prince hugged himself, but there was no warmth left in him at all. “Father,” he said into the darkness, “forgive me.”
Yet he knew that he had done the right thing. The king had grown old and weak, it had been the only choice for him. His death had been long overdue, and Bres had secretly wished for it. Breena, his mother had said so. And mother was always right.
Night after night, she had come to his room and taken his head into her lap as if he was still a child, gently stroking his hair. While he relaxed and closed his eyes, she whispered forbidden words to him with her beautiful, melodic voice. Words that could condemn them both to death if they were overheard by someone, words that meant high treason. He knew that nymphs had magical voices to enchant any male, but he didn’t bother. It felt too good to be with her. No other woman could compare to her beauty and grace. Oh, he had his share of castle maids and concubines, but none of them had a hold over his heart. Once he had them – maybe twice, if they were well-accomplished in the art of love -, he lost all interest in them.
My husband the king is very old. His time will be over soon,” she used to whisper into his ear. “You are young and strong, my son, born to lead. Your people need guidance now if they are to survive in these ever-changing times. The mortals’ world is taking over more and more of our lands. We’ll have to fight them back one day if we don't want to suffer the same fate as so many of our kind – simply fade away, disappear into the impermeable mists of the underworld while they forget that we ever even existed. Do you wish this to be our fate?" When she saw her son close his eyes in horror, she continued, “The king knows that one of his sons has to end his life one day, either you or Elathan. The one who is brave enough to fulfill the deed will rise to power. Bres has been awaiting his death for a very long time. He even embraces it and will be thankful for a son who has the courage to take fate into his own hands. It is the way of things. If an immortal sovereign has lost his ability to protect his people, to guide them into eternal freedom, he must be replaced. And the only way for him to die honorably is either on the battlefield or by the hand of his own kin – his heir whose blood is as noble as his own.”
“But he is the heir,” Ruadan answered darkly without opening his eyes. “Elathan.” He struggled to speak out the name of the brother he had learned to hate from his earliest childhood. “Even if he is a traitor, gathering an army to claim the throne for himself. And what is worst, Bres still loves him. He always loved him more than me, more than even you, his own wife.”
“You speak the truth, my son,” Breena answered calmly. Only for a short moment, a boundless hatred glowed up in her lovely eyes. It was a side she only showed to her son. At court or in presence of the king she thought it wise to keep up a meek and feminine appearance. Ruadan felt a sudden coldness spreading in his chest. He knew that his fate was already sealed when she drew out a dagger from a hidden pocket in her wide, flowing skirts.
Ruadan sat up and stared at the sleek, elegant weapon. Its hilt was encrusted with runes, and a large, oval emerald was embedded at the top. It was so rare and precious that it could only have belonged to royalty. Everyone at court knew this weapon. It was known to never miss its mark.
“Saighneán,” he hissed. Flash of lightning. The dagger’s true owner had given it a fitting name. “This is Elathan’s dagger.”
Breena smiled sweetly. “I know.”
“But it’s not possible. The king closed up Elathan’s chambers when he went into exile, and he used his magic to seal all the doors and windows so no one could enter until his beloved son one day chose to return. Your own magic would never be strong enough to break this spell, mother. Only the king or Elathan himself could enter his chambers. Tell me how you did this.”
The nymph started to play with the weapon in her hand, turning the blade in a beam of moonlight that fell through the arched windows. It gleamed in the pale light, as beautiful and merciless as the prince who owned it. The dagger held a magic of its own. It had been made by elven armorers ages ago, as the king’s present to his newborn son. The silver had been brought down from the giants’ mines in the northern mountains. The dagger's blade had been folded countless times in the fires in the caves under the castle, until it was sharp enough to cut through skin and bone smoothly. If you killed someone with Saighneán, he would die so quickly that he wouldn't feel any pain. At least that was what the storytellers said. In truth, no one who ever had ever threatened the prince and felt his dagger’s deadly kiss lived long enough to tell.
“It was not easy,” she said so softly that only Ruadan could hear it. “I hid and watched for many years during the rare cleaning days when the servants were allowed to enter Elathan’s chambers. The king supervises them personally, and one day I realized that he was always standing at the same place, with his back to the wall with the large tapestry. He only left when the last of the servants was gone, sealing the door behind him.”
Ruadan’s eyes widened. “He tried to hide something?”
“Oh yes. An entrance, to a secret corridor that leads directly to the king’s own chambers and down to the bowels of the mountain under the castle. Bres can’t close it up forever because it is resistant to all kinds of magic so no enemy could ever keep a member of the royal family imprisoned and hinder them from leaving the castle during a siege. He himself ordered the goblins to build it long ago, and they promised to keep the secret. But t
here have been rumors among the servants, I heard them whispering at night or knocking against the walls, seeking for the forgotten doors in the castle. Maybe they hope they will find Bres’s hidden treasure chamber. But the king has protected them with magic. The entrances to the tunnels are very hard to find, even for a sorcerer. I tried to entice Bres into telling me his secret many times, but he always resisted my charms and did not speak, not even in bed.”
She grinned wickedly when she saw anger flaming up in her son’s eyes. She knew that Ruadan wanted to keep her to himself, and he didn’t like to share her attentions. His jealousy would serve her well to persuade him into succumbing to her will this time.
“I sent my wood fairies out every night to look for the doors. They have a sense of knowing places where old magic was used, even ages ago. It was only yesterday when, with their help, I finally found one of the side entrances in a seldom-used corridor near the kitchens. I was lucky. The king’s spell only hides the doors so they are invisible, but obviously he did not find it necessary to seal them or I would never have been able to enter. I had to search for a while, for the tunnels lead in many directions, but I made my way to Elathan’s chambers. The opening was located directly behind the tapestry, just as I thought. At first, I did not know exactly for what I was looking, the idea had just grazed the edges of my mind like the wings of a butterfly. But then I found this on the table beside the bed …,” she retrieved the dagger from the moonlight and gave it to her son, cautiously placing it into his open palm, “and I instantly knew what to do with it. Elathan didn’t even care to hide the dagger. I wonder why he did not take it with him when he went into exile.”
“I know,” Ruadan answered darkly. “Our noble prince did not deem himself worthy of keeping the Saighneán any longer, now that he thought Bres believed him to be a traitor – just as I told him.”
“And you did well in lying to him, my son. Pride and his foolish sense of honor are his true weaknesses. Had he not truly accepted in his heart that he had lost his father’s trust, Elathan would never have gone away, knowing he left Bres without his protection.”
“Without protection?” Ruadan mused. “Oh, I doubt that. He is too damned honorable. I am sure that he still has spies here, watching my every move so I won’t harm the king. The prince will come back as soon as the old man is dead, trying to rob me of my right to the throne. And he will try to kill me.”
Breena caressed his hand, her soft fingertip circling around the dagger. She smiled when she heard her son’s sharp intake of breath. He wanted her, as any man wanted a woman, although he had never crossed the line. She used her knowledge to play with him from time to time, just as she did with every male who crossed her path, just enough to keep him from straying too far away from her side. Nurses had raised him; she only had visited his chambers from time to time or allowed him to watch from a balcony when she held court with the king, a boy who adored her otherworldly beauty, which captivated all who lay eyes on her. The fact that he chose elven maidens who resembled her for his bed sports had not escaped her keen attention, but she would make sure that not one of them rivaled her and robbed her of Ruadan’s undivided attention.
Indeed, no elven woman could cope with the charms of a nymph, but some of them had been too beautiful, maybe too entertaining and quick-minded for her taste, and they had visited her son’s chambers a few times too often. She got rid of them before they could become more to him than someone he used for a night of pleasure, to relieve his stress and anger. Often they left his chambers covered with bite-marks and bruises, but even a half-nymph knew how to satisfy any female beyond her wildest dreams so they came back even if he didn’t order them to do so. A drop of poison in a glass of warm, spiced milk on their bedside table, brought by her loyal maid who claimed to be sent by Ruadan, usually solved the problem. The bodies were gone before Ruadan even asked why his lover had left the castle so unexpectedly.
Luckily, his tastes in women were simple, so he mostly chose among the army of maids serving in the castle. No one asked for them if those girls disappeared, and if they did, Breena knew how to silence them with gold or more drastic measures if they didn’t give up so easily. She knew that her son was not to be fooled, so if he pressed her with questions, she admitted grudgingly that she had paid them to leave the castle, claiming to be jealous. It always brightened Ruadan’s mood, and he was content with her explanation because it complimented his male ego. But she never would have told him the truth. He believed her to be perfect, not to be equaled by any other woman, and she would not tell him anything that convinced him otherwise.
“If Elathan really intends to kill you, we will be prepared,” she continued, running her fingers upside his arm until she felt him shiver with desire. “Soon he will be as dead as his useless father. Do not forget that it will be his dagger that killed Bres, a weapon kept in magically sealed rooms only Elathan could have entered. At last, they will see him as the traitor he is, always was. No one will ever dare steal the right to the throne from you again, beloved son. You will be king.”
Ruadan caught her chin with his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. “And when I am, will you stay by my side? As my queen? I know it’s an uncommon alliance, but we are royalty. I need an heir of my own, a son. Our pure blood must not be weakened.”
Breena turned her head to escape his touch, but she smiled at him reassuringly. “I’ll always be with you, Ruadan. You know how much I love you. But how can we ever be close while the king and his traitorous son still live? You are only the second in line to the throne. Take this dagger, son. You are Bres’s true heir now, so it is yours. My husband is asleep, but I am bound to spend the night in his bed, not yours. Act like the warrior I raised you to be, then we will both be free. When you are king, you can take whatever you desire, my Lord.”
Ruadan looked down at the weapon, slowly closing his hand around it. “I wonder if the legends are true,” he murmured. “Do you think the king will feel the pain when I stab his heart?”
Breena’s eyes held not the slightest compassion for her husband who was doomed to die. When she reached out to cover her son’s hand with her own, the sharp blade cut into Ruadan’s palm. A small stream of blood ran over his wrist and dropped down on the light green silk of her nightgown. She dipped her finger into it and brought the blood to her lips, sealing the pact.
“To be honest with you, son, I do not care at all.”
* * * * *
Ruadan remembered the astounded expression in Bres’s eyes when he opened them, looking at his son who stood at the side of his four-poster bed. “Ruadan?” he asked before following the prince’s gaze down to his own chest, to the weapon that stuck firmly in his heart. He seemed surprised, not horrified or frightened. Apparently he did not feel any pain. “Saighneán,” he said like welcoming an old friend. “Elathan,” he continued, a hopeful smile spreading across his lips. “He came home. But how …?”
The elven king directed his attention back towards his younger son, and understanding dawned in his face. He tried to speak, but a fountain of blood gushed from his mouth and suffocated any word he had intended to utter. Then his eyes dimmed, their accusing stare never leaving his son’s face. A violent shudder ran through his white-clad body, then it was over.
What mother said was not true, Ruadan thought. The king had not expected his own death, neither had he embraced it. He had wanted to live - live to see his son and heir again one day. Elathan.
However, it did not matter now. Not anymore. Bres and his highly valued son would be reunited in death very soon, and Ruadan would be king. He truly hoped that Elathan would return now. It would spare him the effort of tracking his brother down until he found the rabbit hole he had been hiding in for so many years.
Either way, Elathan would die.
Chapter 20: The Blue Plains of Debethea
Igraine felt a strange sense of foreboding when they eventually left the outskirts of the Enchanted Forest behind. To her surprise, she h
ad grown attached to the high old trees. They seemed to be unshielded and vulnerable when they stepped out of their shadows. She snuggled closer to Elathan’s chest and looked up to the crowns of the oaks and elms. Their leaves rustled in the wind, and a creaking noise came from the trunks, as if they moaned in protest because they didn’t want their prince to leave.
“Will we ever return to these woods?” she softly murmured to herself. But he had heard her, as she expected.
“I do not know, Igraine,” he answered, “but it is my wish and hope. This is the only place I ever called home. Would you not prefer to live in a great castle, enjoying all the luxuries and comforts of a life as my companion?”
Igraine smiled. Her heart began to beat faster when she realized that he had not called her a slave this time. She wondered if he realized it.
“I would prefer the tree house you built for me anytime, my Lord, but I do not care as long as you are with me,” she said. She felt how his body went rigid against her back for a moment, and she could feel his warm breath in her hair before he placed a kiss on her head. Obviously her answer had surprised him as much as it pleased him.
When he didn’t speak, she continued, “Tell me about the court and the elves who live there.”
“Not only elves, but also fairies, goblins, nymphs, gnomes and other creatures, ambassadors, warriors and merchants. Whoever approaches the castle gates in peace is welcome there, at least those are … were my father’s orders.” He fell silent for a moment. Igraine reached for his hand which held the reins and covered it with her own, still surprised that he tolerated her touch so easily.
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