So, it was dried elk and hard bread for supper tonight. Again.
Thank my lucky stars? For what? I bit off a tough chunk of meat with my sharp canine teeth, more than a little annoyed at my lot in life.
The Prince of Yirvagna was not supposed to be hunting down his wife in the human lands. It was humiliating, quite frankly. I could only hope she was a good strong woman worthy of the throne of Yirvagna. Dark and tall and beautiful, good with horses. Bad enough that she would not have horns or a tail.
Couldn’t my bond mate at least be a goblin? Goblin maidens were small and rather dirty with their bare feet, and culturally they were very untamed, but one could not deny they were still closer to darklings than the humans.
There’s still hope, I suppose. I could meet a goblin or a faery out here in the woods, but since everything had already gone this wrong, I wasn’t really hopeful.
I rode for some time, following the call of the bond spell. It was growing stronger, so the moment of reckoning must be near. Soon, I would see her and know what I was in for.
I had been dreading the bonding since I was a rather young man, even though it was a crucial rite for the Yirvagnan royalty. It was also an ancient rite, and felt a little like a remnant of more barbaric days.
Yes, we had a reputation for being strong and vicious warriors and very hearty folk, living as we did in the deep, cold woods. But those who dared to visit our court were always impressed that we also had some of the most refined court manners and dress in all the land, stunning artisans and musicians. As the heir to the throne, I had been raised to be reserved and controlled.
And then came the bond spell. This spell had long been used by members of the royal court, to ensure that we had the strongest possible children. While most other royal families around the world preferred to marry other royals, growing in-bred as they made their political alliances and forced unwilling young princes and princesses together, we relied on ourselves and raised strong children. The bonding spell created a fierce magical draw to the unmarried young woman who would make the best match for me, which usually meant a darkling girl of Yirvagna or Mirkatha, sometimes a peasant.
I had heard the story of my parents’ meeting many times. The bond spell was administered to my father, and he immediately felt a call to the west. Messengers were dispatched immediately, requesting for all young women in the west to gather in the city. My father rode out to see the throngs of eager girls, and out of them all, the spell drew him closer and closer to my mother. She was a weaver’s apprentice in town, but like every young woman, she harbored the remote possibility that she might become a princess and then a queen.
I could hardly imagine that my mother had ever been anything but a queen. She seemed born to the part. Regal, beautiful, graceful, healthy, pragmatic…the list of her qualities went on.
And because of this custom, the kings of Yirvagna were sympathetic to the peasants in a way that was unknown in many other nations. My father made sure everyone had access to education, and in years of scarce food, he did all he could to make sure no one went hungry.
But when it was just my father the prince, and my mother the weaver’s apprentice, the bond made him wild with desire. The story went that he had taken her to his carriage and fucked her within an hour of his first sight of her.
Nobody really had a choice in the matter, once that spell was in motion. And practically everyone in Yirvagna was there to watch him find his bond mate. They all knew what was going to happen. They had, supposedly, danced around the carriage banging pots and pans.
It was all sort of uncouth if you asked me, but it was going to be a hundred times worse if I had to drag a human girl into it. The whole court was going to laugh and sneer and privately blame me for finding my perfect match among the humans.
I was starting to think it might have been easier to arrange a marriage at this point.
The sun was beginning to rise as the bond tugged me deeper into the forest, off the road. I had to tie up my horse and continue on foot. The forest was so thick that at first I wondered if I could even go on. I should have brought a machete. But then I found the suggestion of a path, although I had to duck under brambles. In a few spots I was practically crawling just to get through.
I heard singing.
It was not exactly what I would call good singing. The voice itself was pretty. The song was…like a song invented by someone who had never heard a song before.
But what an effect it had on me. I suddenly felt like I had to hear more of that terrible, terrible song, to the point that I started rushing down the path, letting brambles snag my clothes.
I seemed to be heading toward the old stone tower I had seen looming up through the woods in the distance. Did my mate live in a crumbling tower? I wasn’t sure why anyone would live there. It looked like an old sentry post.
My ears pricked at the sound of a loud whistle. The singing stopped. I crept closer, more slowly now, until I could see an old woman through the brambles. She was standing at the base of the tower, and now I saw a length of fair hair fall down the stones. The old woman took hold of the locks and began to climb up.
I drew a little closer still.
The woman climbed to the top, and I caught a glimpse of the girl who possessed all that hair. A human girl in a blue dress, reaching a hand out to the woman. “Ooh, you found berries!” she said.
The barest sight of her face, the sound of her voice brushing my ears, and my cock throbbed with overwhelming desire. A shiver went down my spine at the very thought of seeing her closer, touching her skin. The bonding spell demanded that I go to her this instant, and if she was a girl of my own people, she would have been delighted and honored beyond words.
But, no, Dorin. You just had to go for a human girl with a weird amount of hair who lives in a tower. Even as humans went, this was an unusual situation.
I got out my sword, which was the closest thing I had to a machete, and did my best to work my way around the brambles, looking for a door to the tower, but I wasn’t surprised when I found nothing. After all, why would such an old woman scale the tower with a rope made of hair if there was a door and stairs? Dangerous business for a crone like that. I suspected she must be a witch.
How could I claim my bride under these circumstances? I didn’t want to confront a witch. I was a warrior, not a mage.
I waited in the brambles for an hour or more, faintly hearing the sound of my bond mate’s voice, until finally the old woman started to climb down again.
I retreated out of the brambles and ducked off the path, concealing myself in the brush until she walked by. She had an empty basket and she took out a piece of paper from her pocket with a sigh. “Dowry,” she grumbled. “I haven’t the money to spare for this damnable dowry…”
Dowry? Was my mate already promised to another man?
This was unacceptable.
The old woman must be going to the market, and that would take hours.
Plenty of time.
I shoved my way through the brambles now, until I reached the base of the tower. I kept myself hidden from view, which was easy enough, thick as the snaking branches were. I whistled the same way the witch had done.
“Did you forget something?” the girl called above me.
A second later, the golden hair tumbled down.
I took two handfuls of the fine strands and started to climb.
Chapter Three
Rapunzel
I knew something was wrong with the first tug.
“Ow!” I cried, throwing my hands against the window frame to brace myself.
I looked down and saw a huge demon climbing my hair. He was staring at me with the most intent dark eyes I’d ever seen, and he had black, slightly curved horns and a long thin black tail. He weighed a ton.
“Don’t scream,” he said.
Oh, too late.
The King of the Northlands must have sent him. He had arrived early to snatch me while the Witch was out!
&
nbsp; How could I fight? It was all I could do not to be dragged out the window by the weight of him. I fumbled behind me and started grabbing objects off a nearby table and pitching them out the window at him. A book, a goblet. He kept having to duck his head to avoid them but that was about all the good that did.
He was climbing fast, much faster than the Witch.
As soon as his hand found the edge of my window, the weight started to ease from my hair, and I jerked my body toward the broom I had left sitting against the wall. I grabbed it and started whacking him for all I was worth.
“Get back!” I screamed, hitting his hands, trying to force him to break his hold. The broom was made of twigs and was scratching him up. “Get back!”
His dark brows furrowed and then he snatched the broom handle and yanked it out of my hands. He climbed through the window the rest of the way, standing his full height, his tail swishing back and forth. He was probably six and a half feet tall. His horns grazed the low ceiling. He was strongly built, clad in a black leather jerkin and black boots, with a sword at his waist, a bow at his back, and a knife at his ankle.
Hmm. This wasn’t going to end well for me.
Why oh why had the Witch refused to teach me magic?
My eyes cast around for something better to fight with. I lunged for the fireplace, grabbing the poker, holding it out like a sword.
“S—stay back,” I said. “Please—stay back. I’m not going with you. It’s too soon. Your King said the full moon, right? Well, it’s not time yet, and the Witch is going to town to buy me a proper dowry.”
His brows furrowed even more. “My King? Full moon? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb. I know who you are. You’re a demon sent by the King of the Northlands.”
“I don’t know anything about that. I’m a darkling prince of Yirvagna. And you will have no business with the King of the Northlands. You belong to me.”
“N—no—wait—what?” I was so thoroughly confused at this point that briefly I glanced at my stuffed crow like he might have something to say about it. I really wanted someone to explain this to me. “I think you might have the wrong tower,” I said.
“There is no other tower,” he said. “And that is entirely irrelevant. I’m looking for you, not a tower. You are my bond mate. It’s unusual for a human to be a darkling’s bond mate, and believe me, I would rather this was not the case, but magic has determined that you are the best match for me in all the land. There is no denying it. If you come with me, you will be the Princess of Yirvagna and eventually, the queen.”
“So you have nothing to do with the King of the Northlands?”
“Never even met the man. Sometimes we trade with him, but that’s all.”
I sort of…reevaluated him in light of this new information. He was imposing, sure, but he definitely wasn’t a furry monster with dripping fangs. He had sharp teeth, but otherwise his face matched how I imagined men to be. His brown eyes were not without warmth. His voice had a deep, rich, slightly exasperated quality that gave me an odd little fuzzy feeling in my stomach.
Still definitely too soon to let my guard down. I kept my hand on the poker.
“Who has promised you to this other king?” he asked. “And why?”
“The Witch. She raised me because my mother stole plants from her garden and the Witch had stolen those plants from the King of the Northlands, so now she has to trade me to him. And he’s a troll.”
“A troll?” He sighed. “I don’t think so. The Northlands has fairly sophisticated commerce to be run by trolls. You thought I was a demon.”
“Well—you look like a demon.”
“What demons do you know?”
“I don’t actually know any, but I’ve seen pictures.”
“I’m not a demon. But my people have been the enemy, in the past. Luckily, that is no longer the case…” He walked closer to me, and I held up the poker threateningly. It was very heavy.
I don’t think he was intimidated by the poker.
He was close enough now to look down at me. “You are my bond mate,” he repeated. His eyes raked me up and down. “I will negotiate with the King of the Northlands later, if indeed he has any valid claim on you. All that matters is that I take you home to Yirvagna.”
What was I supposed to say?
“I can’t just leave with a complete stranger,” I said.
“It sounds like that’s already your plan. A troll, no less.”
“Even if I wanted to get out of this tower, how would I do it?”
“Well…” He glanced around. “You don’t have curtains…” The windows had glass panes that could open and close, and wooden shutters that came down to block the sun. His eyes fell upon my bed.
I had never realized it before, because I never met new people, but sometimes you learn things about the world just by looking at other people’s eyes. And right then, I learned that I had a strange bed. I slept under piles of fur scraps, atop a mattress of feathers stuffed into several layers of thin cotton sewn together.
“Your—bed—,” he said. “There isn’t a single thing here suitable for making a rope. And no curtains! You sleep under all these tiny pelts?” And under his breath, “And they say we’re barbarians…”
“Come to think of it, I guess it doesn’t look much like the beds in books.”
“Have you never left this tower in all your life?”
“No,” I said. “I haven’t.”
“Holy gods.”
Chapter Four
Prince Dorin
This was my bond mate. A girl who had never left this single tower. A girl who didn’t even know what a bed was supposed to look like. This witch who had imprisoned her had made sure that if she ever got any ideas about escaping, they would not be easy to act on. And after all that, she would give her to the King of the Northlands?
It was true, I didn’t know much about the northern lands. They were cold and remote. I was quite sure the king was not an actual troll, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had great magic and could take on a monstrous form. Such an unforgiving place was no land for a naive, fragile creature like this one.
Well, maybe she wasn’t entirely fragile. She was still holding the heavy poker and pointing it at me.
I was having very conflicted feelings.
She was such a strange little person, I wasn’t sure what to make of her. For one thing, her hair. It was hard to get past that. There was so much hair in this room that it swirled around her, trailed past me, and some of it was still hanging out the window. She could have joined a circus with hair like that.
Then, there was the fact that she had no idea about anything. How would she be able to help govern my kingdom? I would have to teach her so many things.
My body only wanted to teach her a few very specific things. The fire building inside me didn’t care what she looked like or what she knew. Despite all my surface misgivings, something inside me was deeply drawn to her. It was the bond spell, but I also knew the bond spell was only drawing to the surface something that already existed.
She was my perfect match, in all the world. Did I want this human to be my perfect match? Right now, it didn’t seem to matter.
She had very bright, greenish eyes, a pointed little chin that lifted up to face me boldly, beautiful round breasts beneath her shapeless blue gown, and yes, I really was getting more and more attracted to the way she held up that poker like she was going to hit me. Her curves begged for me to touch them. The sight of those wide eyes and that soft pink mouth were going to destroy me once I had her pleasure under my command.
I had to find a way out of here. Get her home to Yirvagna. I could figure out the rest later, including how on earth to explain her to the court, or how to explain the court to her. How to shape a proper queen out of her.
But first—gods, the urge to claim her was unbearable.
A darkling girl would have understood right away. Right now, the bond spell was my burden alo
ne to bear, but as soon as I kissed her, she would feel it too. A darkling girl would not torture me with waiting. Every darkling girl hoped for the chance to kiss a prince and unlock the bonding spell.
This girl, on the other hand…well, she simply had no idea what she was in for.
“What is your name?” she asked.
The question threw me for a second, because no one ever asked my name. I was the crown prince of the realm. “Dorin,” I said.
I have to admit, it was actually nice to be asked, and to give my name like I was simply myself and not my father’s son.
“I’m Rapunzel,” she said.
“It’s a nice name,” I said.
She finally started to lower the poker, looking around the room. “Um…would you like…” Her eyes fell on some candies shaped like pigs, and then her bottom lip tightened stubbornly for a second, as I could see she didn’t want to share those candies with me. “Tea? I could make tea.”
I drew closer to her now that she was finally lowering her guard. She was quite cute, protecting four tiny pieces of candy. “You know, you can have all the candy you want in Yirvagna.”
“Candy? Who brought that up?”
“I’m just saying…,” I said, in a tone that said, You can’t fool me.
She wasn’t used to anyone reading her like that. She took a step toward the fireplace. My eyes tracked her every movement. I could hardly help it.
“What is it like? Your home?” she asked.
“I live in the royal palace, Virha. It’s much more civilized than people think. Yirvagna doesn’t have a lot of natural resources for export, besides lumber and furs, so over the past century we have cultivated artisans, who are famous for their carvings, paintings and textiles. They are in demand globally, so we have been growing our fortunes year by year.”
I’ve been accused of being too business-minded. I got that from my father. I could tell I was messing this up.
“It’s a beautiful place,” I said, searching for all the things that would impress young women. “We have dances, performances of the symphony, sleigh rides on winter nights…and the food is excellent, I can tell you that. Sausages, lamb shanks, rich soup and all sorts of bread, plum wine, plum pastry… Even in winter we have splendid banquets. Most of the palace social life takes place at night. The candles make a soft glow, and the ladies wear colorful gowns.” I was watching her carefully.
Rapunzel and the Dark Prince Page 2
