The Darkness of Glengowyn

by Isabo Kelly

  He ravaged her mouth, giving her exactly what she needed, what she wanted from him. Hard hands, desperate demands. Her tunic came up over her head with barely a break in their contact. She ripped material as she stripped off his shirt and vest. The heat of his skin enveloped her, making her moan as she rubbed her breasts against him.

  She would have easily, happily fucked him against the wall, but he shifted and angled her toward the small cot she’d been using to nap on between magical sessions. Before laying her down, he dropped to his knees and wrenched off her boots and trousers. He licked into her core while still removing her clothing, and the feel of his tongue circling her clit sent a tremor of shockwaves through her body, making her knees quake.

  After he stripped her completely, he moved from her sensitive clit back up her body along her stomach, kissing and licking skin now sensitive enough to ache with the pleasure. His teeth closed around her nipple, and he tugged gently before he licked away the brief sting. Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth, the heat and pull causing a fresh wave of wetness between her legs. She moaned, burying her hands in his hair as her hips jerked in reaction.

  By the time he reached her mouth, she could taste her own skin, her own juices on his lips, and the flavor mixing with his moved her beyond needy to desperate. Though she attempted to assist him with his trousers, he pushed her hands aside and stripped quickly and efficiently himself. Then they were on the bed with his weight anchoring her to the mattress.

  She couldn’t have him inside her fast enough, couldn’t taste or feel or squeeze enough, as the Shaerta drove them harder and harder. He slammed into her in a single thrust, and she arched up under him, stifling a shout. He filled her completely, in every possible way, and she welcomed every beloved inch.

  He wasn’t gentle. She refused to be tender. She wanted him out of control, wanted to lose control herself. Only with Einar was she safe enough to completely let go.

  She bit his shoulder to keep from crying out when her first orgasm hit. He reacted to the feel of her teeth by pounding harder into her, his own groan muffled against her throat. The increased speed and the feel of his coarse hair rubbing her clit sent her into a second orgasm almost immediately, only ever possible with Einar, even under the full influence of the Shaerta. She couldn’t hold back her shout this time and no longer cared if the entire hall heard them.

  Digging her nails into his back, anchoring her heels on the backs of his legs, she clenched and thrust and chased his rhythm, feeling him storming to his own breaking point. When he hit that edge and threw himself off, she ground against him and came again, her body so awash in sensation all she knew for long moments was the spasms and euphoria of release in Einar’s arms.

  They ended their dance more slowly than they’d started, panting and clinging to one another, warm in the heat they’d generated. She hugged him tight, refusing to let go, keeping him inside her for as long as possible.

  Her brain would have happily shut down, but behind the contentment and sleepiness, the nagging thought remained to follow her into a doze—they couldn’t delay facing the king and queen for much longer.

  Shortly after they woke up, they received word from Glengowyn via a messenger owl.

  Their presence was required at Court.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nuala stood with her back straight, careful not to touch Einar as they faced their king and queen side by side. They’d been given time to change and ready themselves, but not much longer before the Court guards came to collect them for their audience.

  Silence hung heavily over the area. Surrounded by trees dripping with foliage, the Court was open to the air but sheltered from inclement weather by the thickness of the trees and one of the king’s spells. The thrones themselves weren’t all that grand—simple affairs of wood and soft cushions, set with winking jewels peeking from between the twists and turns of the wood. Neither the king nor queen required a background of grandeur to reflect their power. The very simplicity of the Court highlighted just how spectacular the royal couple was.

  Nuala had never been so nervous in her life. She wanted desperately to grasp Einar’s hand, for support and comfort. But she didn’t dare. She held herself motionless and waited for her sovereigns to begin—she was forbidden by Court etiquette from speaking first but wouldn’t have even if she could.

  She found it impossible to read either of their facial expressions. Though that wasn’t unusual, it was the first time those blank, neutral masks had been directed at her while she knew she was facing punishment.

  The queen was stunning, her hair a silken cloak around her shoulders, several shades darker than the lightest blonds in Glengowyn but full of sparkling life like it was a creature all its own. Her face was narrow, her cheekbones sharp, her full lips set in a neutral line, her eyes a piercing violet that was unusual among the Glengowyn elves. She had her long-fingered hands resting at the edge of the armrests on her throne, and the single ring she wore—a bejeweled indication of her position—winked in the glowing bluish-white lights coming from the surrounding trees.

  The king was almost innocuous in his appearance, if one didn’t take the time to really look at him. He was of average height for an elf, with hip-length brown hair and dark eyes that tilted up just a little at the corners. His jaw was solid and his lips thin and firm. The golden torc around his throat, which announced his position, highlighted the firm musculature of his upper body, at once powerful and understated beneath his heavy silk tunic.

  His power emanated from him in an unseen aura, breathtaking in its strength. Simply standing before him had driven many an elf humbly to their knees without the king having to raise a finger or exert any magical force.

  Together, the royal couple had ruled Glengowyn since well before Nuala’s parents had been born. They had a timeless feel about them that brooked no disobedience.

  And here she stood, having disobeyed them because she could no longer deny her love for Einar.

  Just as their silence stretched her nerves to the snapping point, the queen spoke.

  “We are disappointed, Nuala. Einar. Our position on your relationship was clear.”

  Nuala ducked her head in a slight bow without taking her eyes off the queen’s face. To look away was to open herself up to an unexpected attack.

  “Your Majesty,” she said, as firmly and humbly as she could manage, “my magic still produces the weapons you wished to protect. Despite our…lapse, you have not lost anything that I can give to Glengowyn.”

  “We understand that contrary to losing, you have gained,” the king said, the deep power of his voice commanding her attention. “The council is asking if we will trade in this ‘experimental’ weapon of yours.”

  She swallowed and risked a glance around the hall. Other elves circled the perimeter, members of the Court, important advisors to the sovereigns. This hearing wasn’t open to all of Glengowyn, but she wasn’t sure how much to say out loud, how much the royal couple would want her to admit in front of the audience.

  “My magics have been…affected by the bonding, Your Majesty. A new type of arrow has been created.”

  “And this arrow does what, exactly?” the queen asked.

  Nuala still couldn’t read either of their moods from their expressions. The lack of feedback tightened the tension crawling through her gut. She made a point of gesturing to the surrounding Court and asked, “May I explain now? Or would you prefer a private explanation?”

  “That deadly?” the king murmured.

  “That dangerous,” she affirmed as quietly as she could.

  For the first time, a slight expression broke through the king’s neutrality. His features didn’t exactly change, but she thought she detected a hint of approval in his eyes.

  “Should we share such a weapon with the Sinnale, do you think?” the queen asked, her demeanor still scarily neutral.

  “I would leave that decision to the wisdom of Your Majesties.”

  “Of course it will be
our decision. Would these weapons compromise Glengowyn if we were to share them with the humans?”

  Nuala was silent for a long moment. Without explaining what the arrows could do, she wasn’t sure how to answer. “These weapons are deadly in any hands. Elf and human alike.”

  Queen Rohannah tilted her head to one side. “You imply elves could use them…in unforeseen ways?”

  “I state outright that these are the most specifically dangerous arrows I have ever created.”

  The queen’s eyes narrowed, having caught the emphasis Nuala placed on the word “specifically”.

  She exchanged a look with her king, then swept her gaze over the Court. Immediately, the area cleared so that only the guards remained. Then she turned her piercing violet gaze on Nuala.

  “Explain ‘specifically’.”

  Nuala did, revealing not only what the arrow had done, but that she’d killed another elf with it. She didn’t mention that she’d managed to kill a traitor elf when they’d first been attacked, and she didn’t bring up the fact that she’d witnessed Einar kill an elf.

  It was enough for their small remaining audience to know that a humble weapons maker had been able to kill another elf simply by murmuring that elf’s name to an arrow.

  “So. An assassin’s instrument, then,” the king said.

  “Just so, Your Majesty,” she affirmed.

  “Would this arrow destroy a Sorcerer?” the queen asked.

  Nuala tilted her head to one side, not surprised the queen had hit on the same possibility she and Einar had discussed earlier.

  “We would require their real names for that to work,” she said. “But I do think it’s possible. Gaining a Sorcerer’s real name is problematic.” More like impossible, but she didn’t think it wise to say so in that moment. “The real name of any being would be enough, based on my analysis of the spell.”

  “How many of these weapons did you create?” The queen again.

  She swallowed, not sure if this news would be greeted with approval or disappointment. “I created, in total, just short of three hundred individual arrows, and I have destroyed all but five.”

  “Destroyed?” The king’s eyebrow lifted slightly, his only visible reaction.

  “I dismantled the spell and took the arrows themselves apart.”

  “Because?”

  “I felt them too dangerous to leave with the Sinnale when they weren’t aware of their potential.”

  The king drummed his fingers once on his armrest, and again Nuala thought she saw a hint of something like approval in his eyes.

  He and the queen exchanged another long look, silent but intent. Nuala tried to stay calm, but her heartbeat hammered and her skin tingled from the nervous energy consuming her. When the royal couple faced them again, she had to force herself not to hold her breath.

  “This news, this accomplishment of yours, will affect what we do with you going forward, Nuala,” the queen announced. “Your disobedience, and the disobedience of our own Darkness, cannot go unpunished.”

  Nuala dipped her knee in a slight bow of acknowledgement.

  “Darkness—” the queen turned just her gaze on Einar, “—how has the bonding affected your skills? The owls?”

  “Still respond to me, Your Majesty. The way in which we communicate has…heightened, but that ability has not been destroyed.”

  “Yet, I am not sure it’s enough to satisfy,” she said. “You were our most trusted guard. And you have publicly gone against our orders. This cannot be allowed to stand. Even though we will lose one of our most dangerous allies.”

  Einar remained unmoving, taking her words in without comment or gesture, patient as always when standing before his king and queen.

  “You two have left us in an untenable position.” The queen spoke quietly. “Banishment is no longer an option. Nuala’s newest ability is too dangerous to go unmonitored. But punishment is necessary.”

  Her gaze lifted by the barest of flickers, and a moment later, Nuala and Einar were dragged apart by the rough hands of several guards.

  Instinctively, Nuala resisted. “Einar…”

  He allowed himself to be pulled away from her, but he kept his attention on her now, rather than the royal couple.

  “Darkness,” the queen intoned. “Your willful disobedience to this Court requires a severe penalty. But which is best? Banishment, the Or’roan… Simple banishment would be unwise, given that Nuala will remain here in Glengowyn under our supervision. I do not think you would stay away.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “The Or’roan and banishment together would, likewise, hardly concern you now that you have bonded with Nuala.”

  While he didn’t confirm this statement, Nuala saw in his eyes that the queen spoke truthfully.

  “You leave us with one option, Darkness. Banishment to the Unseen Plain—”

  “No!” Nuala cried out, unable to stop her protest.

  That was worse than even a simple death sentence. A punishment that had never been used in Nuala’s lifetime. In fact, she couldn’t recall any time in her parents’ or grandparents’ lifetimes when the punishment had been invoked. Nuala hadn’t even considered that her sovereigns might use it now.

  It meant more than having Einar killed by a human assassin—to preserve the illusion that elves didn’t kill each other. Einar would suffer a horrendous, painful death as the dargem, those nightmare-inducing creatures that called the Unseen Plain their home, slowly ate and digested him. They weren’t just talking about taking his life. They spoke of inflicting one of the worst tortures possible on him before he died.

  The queen ignored her outburst. “You will be sent under the Or’roan. Your disobedience cannot be forgiven. The punishment must be severe.”

  “Please, Your Majesty, not that,” Nuala begged, facing her queen. “Killing Einar now could affect my magic more even than the bonding. Would you lose your most dangerous weapon?”

  She settled her violet-eyed gaze on Nuala without even blinking. “We will be losing one of our most dangerous weapons already, Nuala. Because of your selfishness and inability to do what we have ordered.”

  “Please, Your Majesty, not the Unseen Plain.”

  “Would you take his place?” she asked very quietly.

  “Yes,” Nuala said without hesitation. “I would take his place. Even under the Or’roan, I would suffer the Unseen Plain if Einar could live.”

  “No,” Einar said, his voice deep and resonant, echoing in its quiet intensity.

  The queen raised her brows, the first indication of any sort of emotion. “You have presented us with an interesting option, Nuala. This arrow you’ve created might be too dangerous to allow into the world. If you are no longer on this plane, you can no longer create such a threat.”

  She swallowed but straightened her shoulders. The move did nothing to loosen the grip of the guards holding her arms. “Yes, Your Majesty. You could eliminate a possible threat, make the severity of disobeying your orders an example to the rest of Glengowyn, and retain your Darkness. Simply by allowing me to die in Einar’s place.”

  “No,” Einar said again, his voice rising only slightly above a reverberating growl.

  The queen continued to ignore him. “You make a very good point. Though we would hate to lose your value to us, Nuala, even you are not above our judgment. This would be a good lesson for the others.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  The queen turned on Einar, considering. “This would be a severe punishment for you too, I believe, Darkness. One that would also resonate with the others. We will strip you of that which you value most as punishment for your treachery.” She blinked slowly. “Yes. That is much more severe than even death for you, my warrior. An important lesson for the rest of Glengowyn. No matter your station, there will be consequences for disobeying our rule.”

  Nuala watched Einar’s muscles flex against the hold of the two guards, and in an instant, four more surrounded him, their sword
s drawn and pointed at various vulnerable parts of his body, even as the first two continued to hold him in place. His expression shifted, and she saw the first stirrings of the madness that took him in battle coming over him.

  “Einar,” she murmured.

  He held her gaze, his entire body tensed, as they awaited the final proclamation.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nuala once again found herself holding her breath, but she couldn’t look away from Einar, even when King Varim spoke.

  “Do you offer an alternative, Darkness?” the king asked.

  “My life, Your Majesty. My existence. Anything you would take from me. Only that you do not send Nuala to the kind of death she would meet on the Unseen Plain.”

  Another long silence stretched Nuala’s nerves. She jerked against the two guards confining her because she had to do something physical or she might just scream.

  Finally, the queen said, “For the sovereignty of this Court and the safety of Glengowyn, there is only one answer. Nuala of Glengowyn, you will be banished to the Unseen Plain at dawn, under the Or’roan. Einar, you will be witness to this punishment. Your life, your existence, doomed to continue long after you watch Nuala sent to her end.”

  Nuala began to tremble and a single tear escaped the corner of her eye. Her knees weakened at the thought of what she was going to face, but she tightened the muscles in her thighs to keep upright. Einar couldn’t be allowed to see her fear. She would accept the punishment as stoically as she could manage, because it meant Einar would live.

  More than any other regret, though, she regretted that she would never know Einar again. That they had had so very little time together.

  “I love you,” she mouthed as the guards began to haul her away.

  They’d barely moved two steps when the battle madness swept over Einar’s face.

  “No!” His voice roared through the hall, shaking the leaves on the trees, making even Nuala jump in surprise.

  He folded his body in tight, bringing the guards close. Swords began to poke into him, positioned to hurt and draw blood rather than kill. Before more than one could penetrate his skin, though, he cried out another denial and threw his arms wide. The elves surrounding him went flying in all directions, slamming hard into trees, smashing into limp heaps on the smooth stone covering the ground.