The Tears of Elios

by Crista McHugh

  Her sobs choked her when she tried to suppress them, and Kira realized the futility of holding them back. Her heart was breaking. The faerie was right—it was foolish of her to fall in love with Galen. He would never love her in return.

  CHAPTER 16

  The sky was beginning to brighten as Ranealya stretched out in front of the fireplace. The stone floor made a cold and uncomfortable bed, but it was better than fueling his anger. She looked behind her at Gregor, who continued to snore with his arms wrapped around his pillow. This was the first sound sleep he’d gotten since they left his cottage, and she didn’t want to deprive him of it.

  Her thoughts lingered on his kiss. She was surprised to admit she liked it and even more surprised with Gregor's reaction. She never thought him capable of acting that way. He always seemed too bashful to her. As she pulled her dress on, she wondered what would have happened if Aemil hadn’t interrupted them. Her body grew warm as she remembered how he felt against her—the weight of his body, the touch of his lips on her skin, the greedy way he cupped her breasts.

  Stop obsessing over this! It was just a kiss.

  Her recent behavior disgusted her—it was far too human. The more time she spent with these creatures, the more she began to think like them. Yet as she changed into her disguise, her thoughts drifted once again to the prior night's events, forcing her to leave the room before she acted on them.

  Duke greeted her when she entered the stables. She smiled and scratched his ears before reaching for the saddles. They should leave as soon as Gregor awoke. There were too many humans here, not to mention a member of the royal family. It was only a matter of time before they discovered what she was.

  “Good morning, Ranealya,” a voice said on the other side of the horse. Ranealya flinched and lifted her eyes to see Aemil standing across from her, his arms resting on the horse’s saddle.

  “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said as she cinched the saddle to the horse. He was the last person she wanted to see this early in the morning.

  “No hard feelings about last night? I hope I didn't ruin the evening for you and Gregor.”

  She grabbed the horse by the reins and led it out of the stall. One down. “Actually, you did.” She tied the reins to a post and moved to the next stall, but Aemil blocked her way.

  He grabbed her arm and stared at her as if he were trying to read her thoughts. She kept her face blank to conceal any emotion from him. “I hope you have no intention of hurting him.”

  She shrugged free from him. “What happens between me and Gregor is none of your concern.” She grabbed the second saddle and flung it over the horse’s back with more force than was probably necessary. She knew she needed to watch her temper, but his meddling irritated her.

  Aemil crossed his arms and leaned against the stable wall. “He’s been in love before, but it did not turn out well. You see, Ingra loved his title more than him. Three weeks after he renounced his title, she married his brother.”

  Ranealya tightened the last strap on the saddle but was in no hurry to leave now. The auburn-haired beauty was named Ingra. She wanted to know more, and Aemil seemed willing to share information with her. Much more willing than Gregor. “Why did he renounce his title?”

  “He never agreed with the Clearances. Shortly after his father died and he was declared Duke, he had a rather, um, notable argument with Anilayus. My brother was instructing him on how to proceed with the Clearances in Akershire, and Gregor stated he would not comply with the royal orders. They exchanged words, and the argument ended with him renouncing his title. He said it was the only way he could live with his conscience.”

  “And then?”

  “And then he disappeared. Renouncing his title was a wise move in a certain respect—it may have saved him from execution. He went home first and asked his fiancée to join him in a place where they could live a simple life together, and you already know how Ingra responded. So he retreated to his cottage alone.”

  “And buried himself in his studies,” she finished. “How long has he been hiding?”

  “Ten years. The only time his name was brought up after that was the Brerton Rebellion eight years ago. There were rumors that he was a part of it, but no one knew where to find him. In the end, the leaders denied his involvement, so once again Anilayus spared him. I wouldn't be surprised if he was involved in it, though. He was good friends with Lord Brerton, and most of those implicated in the rebellion disagreed with the Clearances.” He pushed off the wall as voices began to fill the courtyard. “But I think I've said too much now.”

  She followed him as he left the stables, the horses in tow behind her.

  Gregor yawned when she approached him, and she waited for him to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes before she gave him the reins. “You know, there are servants who can do this for you,” he said as he took them.

  “I know, but I don't trust them.” She mounted her horse and fell in line as the entire party left the keep.

  Ranealya spent most of the day lost in thought. She had learned more about Gregor last night than she had in the weeks since they met. She now understood why he valued his privacy and why he had been so awkward with her at first. She was even beginning to grasp why he wanted to keep his past hidden from her. It dredged up too many unpleasant memories. And yet, she respected him more knowing about it.

  She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t realize they were on the road to Dromore until they entered the city gates. Her musings vanished as the reality of her situation came crashing in around her like an advancing tidal wave. She pulled hard on the reins, debating on whether or not turn around and leave. Dromore was never safe for her, even in her disguise. She was too close to Anilayus and the Azekborn.

  Gregor saw her hesitation and rode to her side. “What's wrong?”

  “What do you mean, what's wrong?” she hissed. “We’re in Dromore!”

  “Aemil offered to let us stay at the castle, and I agreed. I could use another good night’s sleep in a real bed before we go searching for the—”

  “Don't say any more!” She scanned the street, waiting for the black hooded figures to ambush them from the shadows. “Did you give any thought to how I would feel being this close to the king?”

  “I did, and look.” He pointed to the highest turret of the castle, which loomed high on a bluff over the city like vulture in a dead tree. “The royal flag is not flying. That means the King is not in residence, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She remained on guard as they passed through the city and entered the castle gates. The prospect of getting inside the walls both delighted and terrified her. She could finally get to see the inside of the castle and how to get to the King, if needed, but a trickle of fear that the Azekborn had stayed behind still hummed through her veins.

  “Are you feeling well, Ranealya?” Aemil asked.

  She looked around and saw she was the only one who hadn’t entered the castle. “I'm just exhausted from the day’s journey. I think I will make an early evening of it. Can I be shown to a room?”

  “Her own room, if you don't mind,” Gregor added. “You can't give me the excuse that we have to share a room here.”

  He laughed. “I was only trying to help, but as you wish.” He turned to a servant waiting outside the castle entrance. “Please show my cousin’s lovely assistant to a room, and see to it she is made comfortable.” He turned back to her. “I'm sorry you will not be joining us for dinner.”

  “I'm not,” Gregor muttered as he passed them, causing both of them to turn their attention to him. He seemed surprised they overheard him and added, “A man can only take so much embarrassment in such a short time frame.”

  “Then I should tell her about—”

  “Enough, Aemil. If I want her to know anymore, I'll be the one to tell her.”

  Ranealya suppressed her laughter as she followed the servant. If he only knew how much she had already learned.<
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  Her room was small by castle standards, but still big enough to be comfortable. After all, she was just an assistant, not a noble. As soon as the servant left, she locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed. The sun was just beginning to set when she looked out the window. If I can just make it to dawn...

  She had no difficulty falling asleep. The previous night had been a sleepless one, and her heavy eyelids closed once she lay down. It was completely dark outside when the sound of trumpets awakened her.

  “Make way for the King!” someone shouted below, and her body stiffened. Her heart pounded as she jumped to her feet and peered down into the courtyard.

  The torches cast dancing shadows on the figures below. She watched as the King dismounted. The firelight made his lean face appear even more sinister. Two black robed figures followed behind him. Ranealya gasped and retreated from the window, hoping they hadn’t seen her. Both Anilayus and the Azekborn were here.

  She paced the room, trying to decide what to do next. She could always run away, but that would cast suspicion on Gregor, and he didn’t deserve that. She could stay in her room until morning, hoping she wouldn’t be discovered. Or she could spy on the King and perhaps have her chance to slay him. Her fingernails grew longer as she thought about ripping his flesh from his bones. Yes, Elgeus would be better off without him on the throne. But first, she needed to catch him alone. She doubted she could take on him and the Azekborn by herself.

  Ranealya opened the window and slipped off her clothes before she changed into a form that wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion—a pigeon. She flew out the window and circled the castle, peering into each window that was lit. Eventually, she came across a large room where Anilayus, Aemil, and Gregor sat at a table eating dinner. The thick glass of the closed window muffled their voices. She searched for another way in and was considering flying down the chimney when a servant opened a window in the next room. Pleased with her luck, she glided toward it.

  She waited until the room was empty before she entered. Heavy wooden doors prevented her from flying into the dining room on the other side. She spied a small gray mouse in the corner, and fur replaced her feathers. Once the transformation was complete, she scurried to the dining room door and squeezed herself under it.

  The roaring fire made the room warm and cozy. The three men sat around the table, surrounded by a score of armed guards. The King monopolized the conversation, and Gregor’s eyes darted around the room, clearly uneasy with his current company. She hoped he regretted his decision to stay here tonight now.

  “The thieves escaped with the artifact through a gate under the city. The good news is that one of them was captured, and we've discovered where the Resistance camp is at last. It's amazing what you can glean from a little torture.” Anilayus grinned as he stabbed the meat with his fork.

  Ranealya’s pulse hammered in her ears. Galen needed to know his position had been compromised, but something held her prisoner in the room. She finally had a chance to observe Anilayus, and she was going to snatch the opportunity while she could.

  He had the same coloring as his brother—dark brown hair, dark eyes, olive skin—but unlike Aemil, there was no softness to him. His hair and beard were short and neatly trimmed. Sucking hollows formed under his eyes, and no warmth radiated from his smile. “I hope your recruitment mission was successful, Aemil.”

  The prince moved the food around on his plate, eyes downcast. “There were a fair number of young men who agreed to join the army.”

  Anilayus took a long drink from his goblet. In contrast to his guests, his appetite wasn’t hindered. “Good. We will need every man we can get if we are to crush the Resistance. Once they are wiped out, there will be no stopping the expansion of the Kingdom. Perhaps I shall conquer Highmounte next. Generations will look back on my accomplishments and remember my power.” His gaze slid to Gregor. “I could use another Master on my side.”

  She tensed, wondering if he would fold under the King’s pressure.

  Gregor looked up from his plate and cleared his throat. “You know my skills lie in research, not combat.”

  “I’m sure you've uncovered some sort of ritual I can use to my advantage.”

  Gregor shook his head and lowered his eyes. “Not particularly.”

  Anilayus drummed his fingers around the golden goblet and watched Gregor with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t a very convincing liar, and the King knew it. “You used to delight in sharing your latest discoveries with me. Perhaps your new assistant has become a distraction.”

  Gregor dropped his fork. The clang echoed off the walls. He glared at Aemil. “She's helping me translate scrolls.”

  “And are you sure she is trustworthy? You always had a soft spot in your heart for non-humans.”

  “She's human, Anilayus,” Aemil interceded. “And quite beautiful, too.”

  “I would like to meet her, Gregor. Let me send for her.”

  Gregor’s face hardened. “She's asleep. Besides, she's very shy around strangers, especially nobility.”

  He was trying to protect her, and her respect for him grew as she continued to watch from the corner.

  “If she is a loyal subject, then she should be overjoyed to meet her King.” He snapped his fingers, and a servant appeared from the other room. “Go fetch Lord Gregor’s assistant.” The servant bowed and spun around on his heels, but only made it a few feet away from the King before a loud bang filled the room.

  The heavy wooden doors opened as if they were made of paper, outlining a dark hooded figure in the doorway. The servant began to shake and cringed as the figure passed him. It stopped and knelt in front of the King.

  Ranealya burrowed deeper into the shadows.

  “Sire,” the Azekborn said. Its voice was hardly more than a whisper, but it sent chills down her spine. “There is a shape-shifter in the castle. I can smell it.”

  Ranealya ran for the doors she had squeezed under. She couldn’t afford to be caught, not now. At least now she knew how the Azekborn had always been able to find her, even in her best disguises.

  Everyone at the table appeared shocked by the announcement—everyone except Anilayus. “Lock the castle down!” he shouted. “No one leaves the grounds until it is found.” He stood and waited for the Azekborn to rise. “Gather the others and find it. And when you do, bring it to me.”

  The hooded figure bowed, never revealing its face, and glided out of the room with unnatural speed.

  Gregor stood and rushed to the door. “I need to make sure Ranealya is safe.”

  Ranealya silently cursed. She had to get back to her room before he did. She shifted back into a pigeon and flew as fast as her wings could carry her. She had just enough time to resume her human disguise and don her dress before Gregor began calling her name from the other side of the door.

  The lock gave her the few seconds she needed to lace her dress up. A bright blue flash appeared to the keyhole, and the door flung open.

  “Gregor!” she cried as she ran to him. She was shivering, she realized, and snuggled closer to him. She needed to act like a damsel in distress if she was to fool the King. “Hold me.”

  Gregor responded by wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair. He was whispering something to her in a soothing voice, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Too many other things filled her mind.

  Footsteps sounded behind Gregor, and she gathered enough courage to peek around him. She buried her face in his chest as soon as she saw Anilayus and several of his guards standing there. “This must be your assistant, Gregor.”

  Gregor lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, this is Ranealya.”

  “Ranealya? What an odd name. Almost sounds Elvish.” He moved closer to her and seized her chin so he could see her face. Her fingers itched to rip this face off, but she forced herself to remain calm and continue with this charade. He studied her face through narrowed eyes. After almost a minute of his scrutiny, he relaxed and released her chin. �
�What beautiful blue eyes you have, Ranealya.”

  Ranealya hid her face as soon as she could. She was still shaking. It took every ounce of strength to act human, especially around the man who wished to exterminate her entire race. Only the fear of Gregor’s reaction kept her from shifting into something that would rip the King’s throat out.

  “Is there a reason why she's acting this way?” he asked Gregor.

  “She's terrified of shape-shifters. No doubt, she heard the alarm issued.”

  “Shape-shifters are rarely seen. Why should she be afraid of them?”

  She resisted the urge to reply by asking the King why he was so terrified of them to the point he summoned the Azekborn to hunt them. “I think one of them attacked me. I've never seen a wolf that size before.”

  Anilayus seemed satisfied with her answer and backed away.

  A black robed figure approached from the dark hallway. “Sire, we lost the scent.”

  “Imbeciles!” He swung his arm, and although he never struck it, the Azekborn flew backwards and slid a few feet after it hit the ground. It jumped to its feet with inhuman agility and disappeared.

  Ranealya turned her head away. Her thoughts were becoming more and more vicious, and she didn’t want them on display for the King to read.

  “Gregor, I will leave you to protect your assistant while I go hunting for the shape-shifter. Goodnight, Ranealya.” The sinister note in his voice increased her shivering, and she huddled closer to Gregor until the door closed behind the King.

  As soon as they were alone, Gregor grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away. “Were you doing what I thought you were doing?”

  She glanced at the door and nodded her head. She didn’t want to be overheard.