by Lia Black
Veyl was so distracted by the décor that he barely noticed the old man sitting up in a chair with four stern-faced advisers gathered behind him. Perhaps at one time the king had been handsome, but his skin was nearly translucent and tinged with yellow; the blue irises of his eyes floated in watery seas of red set deeply into his skull. He looked ancient and ill and Veyl had no idea how this man thought he could serve him.
The bed linens were rumpled, indicating that the king had only risen temporarily to greet Veyl. Despite this fact, and the fact that the king had bribed men and threatened countries to obtain him, he met Veyl's face with a contemptuous scowl.
Veyl knelt before the old monarch, nearly brushing his forehead against the knobby knees beneath his dressing gown.
"Majesty, this is he." One of the advisers on the king's right side announced.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence during which Veyl could hear the wheeze of the king's breath as it moved through his lungs.
Veyl spoke up despite the gall rising to the back of his throat. "Majesty, how may I serve you? Shall I begin by sucking your royal cock?"
There was a collective gasp from everyone else in the room. Without warning, Veyl was sent sprawling when the king leaned forward and struck him surprisingly hard across the face. Veyl blinked dumbly, sitting up to touch gingerly the bloody cut on his cheek left by one of the rings on the monarch's withered hand.
"No son of mine will speak such disgusting filth in my castle!"
"Son...?" Veyl choked and sat back on his bottom. He could feel the color draining from his face and began to get light-headed. There had to be some mistake! He was not the son of a king--he was merely the prince of whores.
"Get that out of my sight."
Veyl was lifted to his feet by a guard on each side pulling him up. They turned him around and escorted from the room.
"Mistake... there must be a mistake..." Veyl looked wildly up at one of the guards who flanked him.
The guard only met his eyes briefly, then continued to stare sternly ahead.
Veyl was marched into a bedroom chamber that was half the size of the king's but still enormous. The floor was covered in decorative rugs, and there was a carved stone fireplace on the wall opposite the foot of the large, four-poster bed. At the Silver Tree Manor, Veyl's bed had been opulent, and this one was equally though far more genuinely so. The materials used ranged from heavy silks to plush velvet, all done in tones of pale blue and deep forest green. The bed seemed to be more pillows than anything, each one tasseled or embroidered lavishly and all of them nearly big enough to support half of his body.
To one side of a heavily draped window was a polished wooden table and two chairs where it seemed Veyl would be taking his meals.
The king's black robed adviser followed him into the room along with a fine-boned female servant. She let out a little gasp as she met Veyl's eyes and instantly he knew what she was. An elf, older, but he couldn't place an age on her. She was lovely with high cheekbones; her silver hair was pulled back from her face, showing her sharply pointed ears. Her eyes were clear and green, but there was no spark of life in them. They seemed to be the eyes of someone who had suffered and learned to cope far more than should be expected of anyone in a lifetime.
"Hurry up and tend that wound, then return to the kitchens." The bearded adviser barked at her, cuffing her on the back of the head, and the woman quickly moved to do as she was told.
"Hey!" Veyl yelled at the man in black, raising his fist to him.
The man rolled his eyes and nodded to one of the guards who shoved Veyl backwards until his knees buckled against a chair, forcing him to sit down. Before he could rise, the guard pinned him to the seat with his hand against his chest.
Should Veyl continue to fight, he had no doubt this man could crush the life out of him. But Veyl hoped he had made his point. He had done what he could to stand up for the poor woman whom he now believed was a slave, and not a paid servant. Engel had mentioned before that sometimes elves were kept as slaves, and Veyl should count himself lucky not to be among them. He'd never given it any further thought, being so wrapped up in his own miserable reality, but seeing the first full-blood elf ever in his lifetime in such a situation made him realize how fortunate he'd truly been.
The woman's hand was shaking as she dabbed a cool, damp cloth onto the cut on Veyl's cheek, and she made an effort not to meet his eyes. He wondered what she must think of him; a half-blood whore with the blood of her oppressor in his veins.
When she had finished, she went to her knees and curled over them to press her forehead to the floor. Then she rose and backed out of the room, stooped over and face down all the way.
The advisor glared at her, as if making certain her performance was adequate before he finally addressed Veyl. "I am Chamberlain Rheton, top advisor to His Majesty, King Herran DuFallier. Now then. You are called Veyl?"
Veyl looked away from the recently closed door to settle his gaze on the man's face. He was perhaps a decade older than Ahrn; a large man with a thick black beard, streaked with grey, and tiny blue eyes like ice-chips. On his head was a black velvet skullcap and the robe he wore was a heavy black material, the cuffs and center seam embroidered with gold thread. He glared at Veyl from under bushy, dark brows.
"Why am I here?" Veyl asked when he'd found his voice once more.
"As you have heard, you are the king's son. An embarrassing bastard child, for certain, but his only surviving heir nonetheless." Chamberlain Rheton paced the room slowly, looking around as if making a concerted effort to avoid resting his gaze on Veyl.
"How...how is that possible?"
"His Majesty has some lesser creatures that do most of the menial labor here. Elves," The man's upper lip curled in displeasure as he said it, as if a sour taste had come into his mouth.
"The king made the mistake of taking a particularly lovely one to his bed and you were the unfortunate result. In order to cover up this embarrassment, the king had ordered you killed, but your mother fled and took you away. That should have been the end of it." Rheton gestured with his hand as he spoke, as though reciting lines from a play or a well-rehearsed speech.
"The king had but two sons as heirs to the throne. Rodin, his eldest, died in a war when he was twenty-five. Manal, who was wounded in the same battle, died of infection not long after. He was twenty-three. The king's wife passed from the grief. Thus, there were no more pure heirs. And despite his best efforts to beget a son since then, his seed is no longer viable, and he is not long for this world."
"So I'm the only one left," Veyl murmured. The weight of his bones seemed to increase as the truth settled heavily upon him.
"Yes. In order to keep his brother from the throne, he must have an heir. King Herran has been trying to find you for three years now. He finally contracted the services of one Kaidos Vailinn--a man whom it was said had legendary tracking skills. Apparently, that was true."
"Did the king also demand that he be killed?" Veyl tasted fresh venom on his tongue.
Chamberlain Rheton raised an eyebrow, "Yes. He did. It would have been foolish to have an outsider learn of your identity. His sole purpose was to find you and remove you quietly from the town where the guards could escort you properly without the citizenry knowing what had taken place. It took a bit more persuasion to get your town's guard captain to agree. But Ahrn Engel is not an unreasonable man."
Veyl decided against offering a response to that particular observation. "What if I refuse to act as the king's heir?"
The chamberlain raised a dark eyebrow. "That is not an option."
"And what means do you have to threaten me? I am not afraid to die."
"I believe it would be enough to threaten some innocents. The elves are allowed to produce children together as the king sees fit. Shall we start with a boy or a girl?"
Veyl's jaw clenched and he looked away.
"You see, Your Highness? This is going much more smoothly already."
&n
bsp; *~*~*
Veyl was left alone in the room for quite some time after that. Initially he spent frantic bursts of energy trying to find a way to escape but all proved futile. The door was locked and he could hear the rustle of heavy fabric as a guard stood at his post outside. That left the only other means of escape up the chimney or out the window. He was on the fourth floor of the castle, and if things didn't start getting better soon, he might consider jumping from that window--but only if he could guarantee he'd break his royal neck.
There was a small knock at the door, then the turning of a key and the female elf that had cared for the cut on his face came into the room with his meal. Behind her was one of the other black-robed advisors with a guard. Veyl moved towards the bed and sat on the edge of the soft mattress, clutching one of the many large, sumptuous pillows to his chest.
"Prince Herran..." the advisor began.
Veyl did not look at him, speaking in slow, measured tones to keep his anger from manifesting as a roar. "That is not my fucking name."
"Prince Herran..." the man tried again. Veyl grabbed up a small decorative box from the night table near the bed and hurled it. The guard moved swiftly to block the flying trinket, scowling as it bounced off of his armored chest.
"Very well then," the advisor's voice trembled, "you shall remain locked in your chambers until you can behave as a civilized human being."
"Impossible!" Veyl lifted his hair as he yelled, showing his pointed ears. He had nothing else nearby to throw but a pillow and he lobbed it at the advisor who ducked and quickly left the room, followed by the guard. There was the telltale rattle and click of the bolt sliding into place as the door was locked from the outside, just as it had been since the time Veyl had arrived four days ago.
He couldn't do this. At least had he been a concubine he would have known what was expected of him and how to perform. Here he met lascivious gazes or those filled with contempt and fear. Here he was completely and utterly alone. He sagged on the bed, and was startled by the quiet clink of plates being set on the table.
He'd forgotten the elf was still present, she was so quiet that she might have seemed invisible. Likely because she'd had that behavior beaten into her, he assumed darkly.
"Thank you," Veyl said to her softly, "but I'm not hungry."
She said nothing, but continued to take extreme care in very slowly removing the items from the tray and setting them down on the table. Veyl was aware that her eyes flicked to him several times, as though she found him to be some sort of fascinating threat.
"Can you speak?" Veyl asked, keeping his eyes averted. No one had spoken to him since he'd arrived, although the advisors has been fond of speaking at him. They hardly cared for conversation of any sort. Just demands of how he was expected to behave.
"Um…" she murmured softly, her voice trembling.
Veyl turned to look at her and saw tears running down her cheeks as her tiny body visibly shook.
Alarmed, he got up, crossing to her quickly, but stopped a few feet away, worried that his swift movement might be confused for aggression.
"Y-you are…Velisshe…" the elf whispered hoarsely through her tears.
Veyl blinked, surprised. "That—how do you know my name?"
"You look like her...Ashia...she was my sister."
Veyl's eyes opened wide and he moved forward again, taking the woman's tiny frail hands in his own. He looked into her face, hoping to see something familiar in her features. "Ashia…she was my mother?"
The woman's trembling lessened and a thin smile crossed her mouth. "Yes," she nodded her head, "and she loved you very much."
Veyl released the woman’s hands and he lowered his head, the color draining from his cheeks. "She would be ashamed to know what I've done with my life." He was surprised to feel the elf's cool hand on his face and he raised his head to look at her.
"She would be proud to know that you are alive."
There was a knot in his throat that Veyl swallowed around. This woman was a blood-kin to him; the first elf he'd ever met was family. The joy he felt was tempered by guilt. Here he was complaining about being forced into royalty, and this woman—the closest link he had to his roots—was tending him as a slave.
"What is your name?" he asked quietly.
"It is Melina, Your Highness." She curtsied in a way that seemed habit, then her cheeks flushed and she looked away.
"Melina, please, I want you to call me as my mother would," Veyl murmured taking in her features and mentally comparing those parts of hers to his own.
She looked at him with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
"When we are safe, and alone," he clarified, understanding her hesitation. "Please, it would honor me."
Melina's face softened into a much more genuine smile. "It would be my honor as well, Veylisshe."
She moved away from him quickly, dropping to her knees with her forehead pressed to the floor as Chamberlain Rheton burst into the room.
"I'm told that you are being difficult again, Your Highness," he said with an air of exasperation.
"I will not be stared at like a freak of nature. Nor treated like a prisoner." Veyl lifted his chin defiantly and moved away from Melina in case Rheton might suggest there was something afoot between them. He plopped down onto his bed.
Rheton scowled. "Then you should stop acting like a petulant brat."
Veyl raised an eyebrow and lounged suggestively back against the remaining pillows. "Would you prefer that I act like a whore?"
The guard behind the chamberlain gave an uncomfortable cough when Veyl ran his tongue enticingly across his lips, and drew his hand up the center of his body.
The chamberlain, however, was not so enthralled. "This behavior is unacceptable. You will remain locked up here until you can learn to be civilized. You—elf—get out. I'll call you when I have need of you later," he barked at Melina.
For the first time in this exchange, Veyl noticed there was a younger man standing just behind the chamberlain. The man was emaciated, with eyes sunken like a corpse's and bone-pale skin. His long hair was a strange color of tarnished metal and it hung lank and well past his shoulders. He was dressed in black, a material far rougher and more faded than the finery of the chamberlain's garb, and he carried an air of cold detachment. Veyl involuntarily recoiled at the sheer presence of him. It was something dark, twisted, and formidable in nature.
"What is it you want? Have you both come to taunt the mongrel in his cage?" Veyl asked, masking his discomfort with arrogance. Those cold, dead eyes looked through him, picking him apart with a gaze he was unable to interpret as lust.
"I have little interest in you," Rheton said, "but Aegeus wanted to see what he had to work with."
The man called Aegeus squared his jaw and his attention turned to the chamberlain. "You did not say he was half-elf." He spoke in surprisingly clear tones, though his displeasure was obvious from the curl of his lip. For the moment, Veyl was just relieved not to have those eyes on him.
"Half-elf, half-horse, what does it matter? Are you not the most skilled?" Rheton waved a dismissive hand but was making a noticeable effort not to meet the smaller man's gaze.
"Skilled at what?" Veyl demanded as something even more unpleasant prickled at the base of his awareness.
Aegeus went on as if Veyl hadn't spoken, "It is far more difficult to manage a creature that is in tune with one of the seven arch-magicks. Do you know of his talents?"
"He was a whore, I assume that to be his only talent."
Aegeus' eyes widened and he looked at Veyl, and this time Veyl did feel a spark of sexual interest, though it was quickly squelched. Aegeus shook his head and closed his eyes.
"Whatever the case, I shall need more time to prepare. At a minimum, there must be a binding created for this to work. This changes everything, Chamberlain, and I expect to be compensated."
"Your compensation shall be just, magus, though if you fail you and your apprentice will die."
; "Magus?" Veyl drew back. "You intend to bewitch me into doing your will?" But still he went unheeded.
"You dare threaten me?" Aegeus demanded, his voice rose and his eyes flashed dangerously.
"I do as the king wills. I suggest you begin to conceive of a way to make this work quickly. His Majesty's time grows short, and should he die before you are ready, rest assured your death, and that of your charge, will be slow and unpleasant. However, do as you have been contracted, and your reward will be great."
"Whatever it is--I am not going to be a part of it." Veyl figured that his protests would go ignored as had everything else he'd been saying, but the chamberlain smiled at him.
"I assure you, Your Highness, you--as usual--have no choice in the matter."
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
The Half-Blood Heir
It pained Kaidos to have to see Veyl taken away, but he would keep his promise and see him free and as far away from this place as they could go. He had found an unlikely but valuable ally in Ahrn Engel who agreed that he, too, would prefer Veyl to be free. Because there would not be another ship heading back to Herrendsport for at least a month, Engel was housed in the barracks on the castle grounds. This way he could learn of any favorable breaches in security and try to keep an eye on Veyl's activities.
Still, the anticipation was driving Kaidos half-mad. He paced as he waited for Engel to meet him near one of the many empty buildings in town. Kaidos was early, but with nothing better to do, it was hard to stay in his rented room at the inn and watch the hours drift by. He'd gotten very little sleep since they had arrived in port four days ago, and what sleep he had managed was fitful and haunted by nightmares.
From the outside, Dandre looked lovely. With wide streets paved with white granite blocks, raised beds filled with roses and statuary, and a central fountain built in remembrance of the deceased queen (or so he'd been told). But there were quite a number of abandoned storefronts, and the citizens seemed morose if not outright querulous. The few that met his eyes, gazed at him with suspicion.
