by Lexi Johnson
“Surely,” he tried again, “there are already some of your own who are well versed in the ways of killing and seduction?”
“Of course there are,” the princess said, looking offended that he had had to ask. “But, as I said, the situation is delicate. Due to my vow to the Justicius, we need someone from outside our court. And it will be better to have one who can lie – an advantage you have over us.” She gave him a slightly impatient look. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with the latter,” she said. Haytham did not react.
“In any case,” she went on, “what do you care about the state of some mortal’s heart? Train her to kill, gain her regard, have your way with her – and, most important of all these things, make sure she kills Aranion, the elven prince. After she has done the deed, you can return home. And –“ she gave him one of her exquisite, terrifying smiles – “the debt between us will be finished.”
“Finished?”
Haytham suddenly had trouble breathing. If she meant what she said, then he would be free. Free!
“Exactly that,” the princess said.
It sounded like a good deal. A plain deal.
Too good and too plain for elves, Haytham knew that, and that fact should have made him worried, terrified even. No deal with elves ever came without strings; he knew that well.
Hesitantly, he asked: “And what will this mean for me, afterward? Will they send a hunt?”
“The Crystal Elves are soft,” Laire assured him. “They haven’t called a hunt in almost a thousand years. And even if they worked up the nerve, this is a matter between elves. The Crystal Court has no interest in Shifters. You have my word.”
Yes, he thought. He should have been terrified. But, really, what did he have to lose?
The geis between him and the queen compelled him to serve her family’s will. From her offer, the chances were that the princess didn’t understand the full extent of the geis between him and the royal family. And Haytham had no intention or obligation to inform her. The promise of freedom was a gift – but an incalculably precious one.
He could train this mortal, fuck her even, and then return to once more fly the cold mountain winds that were his home. Free.
“Agreed,” Haytham said. He extended his hand.
The princess accepted the agreement. Her small, fine-boned fingers gripped his forearm as his larger hand cupped hers, delicate as a twig. A tingle passed between them, sealing the geis.
The deal having been concluded, she waved to the door, and an elf entered with a tray of food and a delicate flute of elven berry wine.
“Refresh yourself,” the princess said. “I’ll return shortly with your charge.”
Haytham’s mouth watered, as he looked over the bite-sized chunks of aromatic, seasoned meat on the tray. For all of their fooleries, elves did understand how to satisfy a guest’s stomach.
Haytham had almost eaten his fill by the time the princess returned. The mortal was following a step behind her.
The mortal, Haytham realized, was beautiful. Her skin was a deep, rich, honeyed brown; her eyes were large and rimmed with thick lashes. She looked like a doll, dressed in layers of red and gold silk that certainly complimented her coloring and well-shaped figure. Though Haytham thought he preferred the wildness of her soft brown curls. They held their shape, haloing her head in a riot of brown.
Laire said, “This is my little bird. Sade,” she told the mortal, “please step forward so that our guest might greet you.”
The mortal, Sade, did as instructed, coming to stand awkwardly before Haytham. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said prettily.
Little bird, was it? Haytham wondered if the mortal was able to see the bars of the cage around her. It had taken him far too many years to recognize his own.
“I’m Haytham,” he said, extending his hand.
Gently, Sade placed her palm against his. Her dark eyes were deep pools of uncertainty as she stared up at him.
“Good,” Laire said, and took Sade by the forearm. Haytham released her hand, and the elven princess pulled Sade to her side. “Now that we’ve managed the formalities, let me explain why I’ve brought you two together.”
Sade nodded, visibly tense. She took a shallow breath and wiped her free palm against her silk-covered hip.
At least the mortal had the good sense to be afraid. Haytham found himself wishing she was a little stupider – less aware of her situation. After all, of course it was the way of the world for the strong to dominate the weak. But that didn’t mean he took any pleasure in watching the weak suffer. That was one of the many things that separated shifters and elves.
Haytham watched her as the princess spun a remarkable tale of marriage, betrayal, and a broken soul-bond. Given the elves’ inability to lie, each individual word of it was certainly true, even if the story they wove was ultimately false – misleading, as the elves might call it.
“…So the only solution is for you to kill Aranion. And that is why I’ve called for Haytham, to help you do that,” Princess Laire said. She gestured toward Haytham once again, as though he and Sade had not just exchanged introductions.
“Kill him?” Sade was clearly shocked. “I’ve never killed anyone in my life!”
Laire’s eyes narrowed. “And how would you know that, Little Bird?”
“I—“ Sade’s expression collapsed. She shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she acknowledged. “I don’t remember.” She sounded lost.
Laire nodded. “Good. That spell of forgetting protects you from the pain.”
She rested her palm on Sade’s shoulder. Slowly, she began to rub in slow circles that Haytham assumed were meant to be comforting.
Trembling, Sade closed her eyes.
Some of the implications of what Laire had just said caught up to him. He realized that here was the catch. If Haytham understood correctly what the princess was planning, Laire intended for Sade to kill her bonded mate.
That was an abomination before the skies. Elves and Shifters both agreed on that.
And Haytham had already agreed by bond and breath to teach this mortal how to do it.
Otherwise, he would lose his freedom, and his wings.
“Haytham is a Wind Dancer,” Laire was saying. “Wind Dancing is a technique known only to the Shifters who dwell in the Hell’s Peaks, but it can be taught to anyone – with the right instructor.” Laire glanced up at Haytham, her eyes shining. “He will teach you well, won’t you, Haytham?”
Haytham swallowed his scruples. “I will,” he said.
It was what he’d agreed -- the price of his freedom.
“Then I will leave my little bird in your capable hands,” the princess said. “Return her in… let’s say three moons. That should be enough to make her ready.”
“I’ll need to take her to the peaks,” Haytham said. “For her training.” And his sanity, too, he thought. The faster he got them both out of here, the better. There was no way he’d be able to keep his head in this elven anthill for an entire moon, much less three.
“And your bird will need some sensible clothes,” he added. “And a decent knife.”
The princess’ lips tightened, and she took a short breath in through her nose.
She paused for a moment, and then pulled a necklace of delicate beads from around her neck. She squeezed it in her fist, closing her eyes. For a few seconds, her hand glowed with magic.
When she opened it, a delicate, pearl-bordered mirror rested on her palm. She held it out to Haytham.
“I expect daily reports,” she said. “Use this.”
Haytham took the glass, with some distaste. The too-strong honey-and-flower scent of the princess’s perfume clung to it. Its cloying, artificial sweetness made him want to retch.
Yes, he decided. He really, really hated elves.
Chapter 3: Heart’s Blade
Princess Laire led Sade to the Queen’s Chambers. The queen had been
away on holiday for almost a decade, and until she returned, Laire had full use of the queen’s rooms. As always, the princess entered first, and Sade followed.
At a table near the entrance, beside a tray of food, stood a man.
The first thing that struck Sade was how different the man looked from everyone else she’d seen these past few weeks. In contrast to the pale, ephemeral beauty of the elves, this man was tall, rangy and strong-looking, with long, light brown hair held back by a simple tie behind his head. His jaw was shadowed with the beginnings of a beard. Sade found that surprisingly attractive -- though the thought somehow made her feel guilty, and slightly ill.
The man stared at her. Sade did her best to maintain her composure. But sweat tickled the back of her neck.
Princess Laire said, “This is my little bird. Sade,” she said, “please step forward so that our guest might greet you.”
Sade did as instructed, feeling terribly exposed as she stepped toward the strange man.
He was taller than she was -- taller than the princess, even -- and broad-shouldered, in a way that made his simple navy tunic seem ill-fitting and strange. She saw him tug at the tunic’s waist in an irritated gesture as she came to stand in front of him.
He looked her up and down appraisingly. “I’m Haytham,” he said, and extended his hand.
Sade took his hand and introduced herself. He was warm -- warmer than Laire. What was he, to burn with such fire within?
They’d barely had a chance to touch, barely had a chance for Sade to notice the deep green of his eyes, before Princess Laire took Sade’s wrist in a firm grip. “Good,” she said. Haytham released Sade’s hand, as the princess pulled Sade back to her side.
“Now that we’ve finished the formalities,” began Laire, “let me explain why I’ve brought you two together.”
As always, Sade tensed at the princess’s touch, feeling caught between desire and fear. Twitchy and unsettled, she rubbed her free palm over her hip. She hated how nervous Laire made her feel.
Princess Laire began to speak, relating to their guest the same story of promises and betrayal that she had explained to Sade earlier, in her private chambers. Sade listened intently, even this second time round, hoping to glean some greater understanding of her past.
Though Laire never came out and said so directly, it was clear from the way she told her story that this Aranion must be a cold man, incapable of love. What game had he played with Sade, she wondered, while he was weaving his lies with the princess?
As the princess talked, Sade glanced over at Haytham. The man’s gaze seemed far away. Sade wondered if he was even listening.
“So, the only solution is for you to kill Aranion. And that is why I’ve called for Haytham to help you do it,” Princess Laire concluded, with a satisfied gesture that included Haytham again.
Sade couldn’t believe she’d heard Laire properly. “Kill him?” she repeated, stunned. “I’ve never killed anyone in my life!”
Laire’s eyes narrowed, her voice taking on the same dangerous flatness as when she punished her courtiers with her own hands.
“And how would you know that, Little Bird?” she inquired.
“I…“
The last thing she wanted was to upset Laire. Sade dropped her gaze, and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t remember.”
Laire nodded. “Good. That spell of forgetting protects you from the pain.”
She rested her palm on Sade’s shoulder, and, through the fabric of her dress, rubbed at the area in slow circles. The touch didn’t comfort, but at least Laire had lost that crackling air of repressed fury.
“Haytham is an excellent blade dancer,” Laire continued. “He will teach you well, won’t you, Haytham?”
“I will,” Haytham said.
“Then I will leave my little bird in your capable hands,” the princess said. She lifted her hand from Sade’s shoulder. As always, Sade felt it as both a relief, and a loss.
“Return her in three moons. That should be enough to make her ready.”
“I’ll need to take her to the peaks,” Haytham said. “For her training. Also, your bird will need some sensible clothes. And a decent knife.”
The princess tightened her lips, taking a short breath in through her nose. She pulled a necklace of delicate beads from around her neck and squeezed it in her fist, eyes closed, hand glowing. When she opened it, a delicate, pearl-bordered mirror rested on her palm.
“I expect daily reports. Use this.” She held the mirror out to Haytham, who took it.
Sade was still in a shocked daze. She’d only just found her place in Laire’s court, and now the princess wanted to send her off to some mountain with a stranger to learn to kill!
Among many other things, Sade didn’t think she had it in her to kill someone -- not even in self-defense, let alone hunting down a stranger and killing him in cold blood.
“Princess,” she began in a wavering voice, “I don’t think—“
“Don’t fret, little bird,” said Laire. She patted Sade on the shoulder again. “You’ll be strong enough. You are stronger than you think.” She smiled down into Sade’s face. “And, when you’re done, you can return home, to me.”
With that, the princess took Sade’s hand. The rush of pleasure was distracting, making her want to pull the princess close and ravage her mouth. Sade wished she had the strength to wrest herself from the princess’s grip.
“Sade, Haytham,” said Laire, in the voice of one clearly used to being obeyed, “stay for the feast. Afterward, you’ll have whatever you need from our stores. And I’ll have one of the ladies choose suitable clothing for my pet.”
“It would be better for us to begin immediately,” Haytham said.
“Nonsense. If my pet and I are to be separated for such a long time, the least I can do is give you both a pleasant send-off.”
“My lady,” Haytham said, clearly bowing to Laire’s wishes.
His expression was calm and respectful, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his discomfort. Sade gave him a reassuring smile.
He met her eyes for a moment. Then he averted his gaze.
The gesture made Sade feel a kinship to him. Like her, he was an outsider to the court. Maybe she would be able to find some common ground with him, when they were alone. They would have to find some common ground, presumably, if he was going to teach her…whatever he was going to teach her.
Truth to tell, Sade thought it just as likely that she would prove so hopeless that Haytham would return her to the princess with his apologies. Privately, that was Sade’s hope. No matter what this Aranion might had done to her, she didn’t want to kill him.
But she couldn’t deny the horrible, churning pain in her chest. Most of the time, she could ignore it. But when it was quiet, and she had nothing to do, the pain would become so strong that all she could do was gasp, and try her best to breathe through it without crying.
When they arrived at the feast hall, the dancing had already begun. Gentle harp music filled the open hall. The tree branches had been pulled aside for the feast, and sunlight streamed through the open spaces, shining over the brightly colored silk and jewels of the elven dancers.
To the left of the dance floor stood a raised dais with a table for the royal family. Only the royal family sat on chairs; the rest of the courtiers either stood to eat, or took their plates and sat on one of the scattered pillows on the floor. The High Lords and Ladies fed their honored courtiers with their own hands.
Sade knew she would eat, as always, at the princess’s feet. She found it awkward – as if she were a pet in truth, some kind of lap dog -- but other courtiers did the same for those they served, and they assured her that Laire was bestowing on Sade a very high honor.
One of the courtiers pulled the princess’s chair back, and Laire sat down, her robes making a flutter of liquid silk that spilled to her feet.
To Sade’s su
rprise, a red pillow had been laid for her use on a short bench at the princess’s left. Sade sat on it carefully. It was high enough for her to see over the table, at least well enough to see the dancers, and Sade enjoyed the rare treat. The princess stroked Sade’s hair absently, as she turned to order one of the courtiers to bring them meat, wine, and a second bench for her guest.
An expression flashed over Haytham’s features that looked to Sade like disgust. “The floor is good enough for me, my lady,” he said.
He sat down, crossed-legged, near the edge of the table: close enough so that it was clear that he was with the princess, but not so close that she could easily touch him.
“Might I have some water, my lady?” Haytham asked.
His words had been nothing but polite. Still, it was clear to Sade that Laire was angry. “I’ll ask one of the courtiers,” she said, her mouth drawn tight.
Haytham only nodded.
When the food arrived, the princess fed Sade morsels from her own fingers. Though Sade was also accustomed to this, she found her cheeks warming with embarrassment as she realized that Haytham was watching them both, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“I will miss you, my pet,” the princess said. She held out a glass of crystal wine.
The glass seemed as thin and fragile as a soap bubble, and Sade sipped from it, terrified that it might break. The wine was bubbly and sweet with just a hint of tartness, and Sade felt that it went straight to her head. She relaxed into the princess’s touch in a way she rarely did, except when Laire was sleeping.
The princess smiled, and, placing the glass onto the table, kissed Sade gently on the lips.
Her lips were warm, and the pleasure of it was too much for Sade. She parted her lips, hoping the princess would reach, find her through the silk, and rub at her moist slit before guiding Sade beneath the table to satisfy the princess’s desire…
The princess pulled away first. “Dear pet,” she said. “We have a guest.”
Sade glanced over at Haytham, her face hot. The soul-bond was aching, but the pleasure of the princess’s touch had managed to drown out the pain, for at least a short time.
