Aerdan: Sci-Fi and Fantasy Romance (Zhekan Mates Book 1)

by E. A. James

  Aerdan’s jaw dropped. “Mother! Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

  “We cannot rescue her, Aerdan,” Zornaya said quietly. “It is too much of a risk. Namaya has taken what she wanted – the threat against a royal alliance.”

  Aerdan’s fear and terror quickly turned to anger and he stood before his mother with his hands on his hips, glaring fiercely.

  “You won’t fight for her?” Aerdan asked, shaking his head bitterly. When there was no reply, he spat on the ground.

  “Son, she was a good woman, very smart and beautiful,” Zornaya said gently. “But you must accept this had to happen.”

  “You are without honor,” Aerdan spat. “All this time, you talk about being a good leader! And those…those barbarians storm in here and steal the one girl I’ve ever cared about?!”

  “You are to go to your chamber and stay there until I call for you,” Zornaya said. Her blue eyes flashed with anger. “You must learn your place in this family, Aerdan!”

  Aerdan glared. He turned on his heel and rushed up the stairs, desperate for a plan that would save Angelica.

  The whole kingdom was plunged into a sudden and surprisingly intense period of mourning. Even though Angelica hadn’t been a presence in Zheka for very long, the people had come to know and love her as their future queen.

  Just as Zornaya had predicted, there was some jealousy…but eventually, most everyone came around. Angelica was not just beautiful, she was intelligent, kind, and gentle. Everyone who had met her spoke highly of her. There hadn’t been a royal wedding since Aerdan’s cousin, Thaemas, had wed four years earlier. But Thaemas had died in a show, and his widow had lost the babe she was carrying due to grief. The people hungered for a royal marriage…and a royal heir, someone who would assure them that their future was safe.

  Aerdan barely left his chamber. He couldn’t eat, sleep, or even ride Tlatse without thinking of Angelica. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her delicate face. Aerdan couldn’t stomach listening to people mourn for Angelica as though she were already dead. The castle and realm was filled with talk of Angelica’s selflessness, her bravery – her decision to sacrifice herself before Namaya could hurt their beloved royal family.

  I wish she hadn’t done that, Aerdan thought fiercely. He was sitting in his chamber at his desk, over a blank piece of parchment. He’d had the idea to write a secret message to Angelica – perhaps one of his mother’s falcons could deliver it, or even Brynx with the right instructions. But even as he sat tapping the quill against the blank sheet, nothing sprang to mind. What would I ever write, Aerdan wondered bitterly.

  He shuddered. I’m a failure, Aerdan thought. I’ll never be a strong warrior. Even my father, a complete lout, would have been able to fight Namaya and win when he was in his prime. I’ll never live up to that.

  “You can go look for her, you know.”

  “Huh?” Aerdan’s head snapped up. Brynx was sitting at the ledge of the window, sunning his white fur in the bright rays. “What do you mean?”

  Brynx blinked once, long and slow. “Aerdan, this is your chance,” Brynx said calmly. “You told her you were an explorer, didn’t you?”

  Aerdan laughed bitterly. “And she knows that’s a lie,” he said. He shook his head. “I’ve never been away from home before. How in the name of the gods would I be able to find her? I don’t know the first thing about Glasule.”

  Brynx mewed. He leapt down from the ledge and rubbed against Aerdan’s ankles before sauntering across the stone floor and pawing at Aerdan’s wardrobe.

  “You have a map, don’t you?” Brynx asked. “Maybe it’s time you put that map to use.”

  Aerdan grabbed his leather rucksack and dumped it upside down on his bed. A couple of apples tumbled out, followed by a flagon of water. Finally, the old crumpled map shook out and landed gracefully on the bed. Aerdan grabbed it and unfolded it, poring over the ancient names with his eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

  “Glasule is on the map, I believe,” Brynx said. “Tell me, Aerdan – are you willing to risk your life for her?”

  “Yes,” Aerdan said. He swallowed. He was afraid, but the fear of death did not frighten him nearly as much as the fear that he would never see Angelica again. “I have to rescue her,” he said. He folded the map and slid it into his pockets.

  “Yes,” Brynx repeated. “You must.”

  Aerdan pulled on his leather boots and opened the wardrobe, searching for a cap. Behind him, Brynx made a curious sound that almost sounded like the cough of an old man.

  “Forgetting something?”

  Aerdan turned around, his forehead creased in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

  Brynx sighed. “For a human, you can be awfully stupid sometimes,” he said lightly. “Take a look in the mirror. Maybe that will help.”

  Still frowning, Aerdan crossed the room and carefully inspected his reflection. He was clad in leather leggings with the royal seal of Zheka embossed on one thigh, and his tunic barely concealed his bulging muscles.

  “I’m dressed,” Aerdan said. “I don’t get it.”

  Brynx rolled his eyes. “You really are lacking in intelligence,” he said disdainfully. “How you expect to get into the castle of Glasule looking like that?”

  “Oh…” Aerdan trailed off, looking down. “By the gods, you’re right!”

  Brynx yawned, as if to say: “I know.”

  Aerdan pulled his clothes off and tossed them in a corner before digging through his wardrobe and pulling out a pair of plain linen breeches and a matching shirt. He dressed as quickly as he could before refilling his leather bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

  “You stay here,” Aerdan said to Brynx.

  “I have no interest in sailing,” Brynx said. He yawned, then curled up on the bed. “Aerdan, I wish you the best of luck.”

  Aerdan rolled his eyes. “Lazy cat,” he said, reaching down and scratching Brynx’s back affectionately. “I’ll bring her back, I swear,” he added. Aerdan took one last glance around his room before darting down the side stairs and running away from the castle.

  Outside, people strolled in groups, sadly talking and dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs. Aerdan darted past the crowds as quickly as he could – even in his plain clothes, his bright blue eyes were an unmistakable sign that he belonged to the royal family – and he knew he couldn’t be seen by a single person if he wanted to escape. He ran down the grassy banks to the edge of the sea. Three fishing boats were tethered to the dock. The fishermen were gathered on the beach, sorting their hauls.

  Aerdan held his breath as he crept along the bulkhead, then onto the deck. The wooden planks creaked under his muscular bulk and he began to sweat out of sheer anxiety. Please, Aerdan begged. Please, gods, let me escape unseen. This is the only chance of her rescue, and without me, Angelica is doomed.

  Whether the gods were listening or not, Aerdan managed to board a fishing boat without being noticed. The boat swayed and rocked in the water and for a moment, Aerdan thought he was going to be sick. He fumbled with the ropes tethering the boat to the dock with trembling fingers, then cast off and kicked the bulkhead, sending the boat floating gently out towards the cresting waves.

  Soon, Aerdan was sailing along. The Zhekan castle grew smaller and smaller, and the scent of the salt air felt invigorating and fresh as Aerdan zoomed through the bright blue water.

  “This isn’t so hard,” Aerdan said, tugging at the ropes. The sail swung around and he gasped, ducking as it narrowly missed him. Aerdan chuckled. “Maybe not,” he added under his breath. Still, he took it as a good sign – he’d never sailed, or learned how to handle a boat before. I’m a natural, Aerdan figured proudly as he stretched the sail tightly and pointed the boat in the approximate direction of Glasule.

  The old map, beaten and torn as it was, proved to be a great help. Aerdan kept it firmly gripped it in one hand, steering the boat with the other, as he churned through the waves. The motion of the sea b
eneath the boat had begun to feel safe, almost calming, and soon Aerdan was feeling more relaxed and positive than he had since before Angelica’s kidnapping.

  But as soon as the Zhekan shoreline disappeared, the skies grew cloudy and the wind began to whip and whirl.

  It’s nothing, Aerdan thought, biting his lip in determination as he struggled to keep control of the boat. It’s just a little storm, nothing to be afraid of.

  But despite his determination to keep going, Aerdan was filled with fear. The clouds above the sea began to thicken and swirl, turning grey and then a deep, angry shade of black that chilled Aerdan to the bone. The air became cold and damp, and Aerdan clung to the wheel of the boat, steering on towards what he hoped was the direction of Glasule.

  It can’t be much longer, Aerdan thought. It had begun to rain and the floorboards were slippery and slimy with salt and muck. The ship pitched and turned, rolling through the waves. A large wave crashed over the prow and Aerdan shuddered in fear when he heard the telltale sound of splintering wood. By now, the air was so thick with rain and fog that Aerdan couldn’t see land. The pitching waves were beginning to make him feel sick and he hunched over the wheel, vomiting until hot tears leaked from his eyes. His hands were chilled to the bone and aching, but he clung fiercely to the ship, determined to steer himself to freedom.

  Crack!

  A bright zigzag of lightning filled the sky, illuminating the clouds in a ghastly purple and green that made Aerdan think of a healing bruise. Loud thunder boomed mere seconds later, and Aerdan froze as he saw a huge wave cresting and looming over the ship. He pitched the wheel to the right in a desperate attempt to turn and avoid, but he was too late. The wave crested over the ship. Aerdan’s body was pushed under a fierce torrent of salty water. He sputtered and coughed, gasping for air as he groped for the wheel of the ship. But the ship’s steering mechanism had come apart in his hands and Aerdan yelled with alarm when he saw pieces of wood floating away.

  By the time he realized the ship had broken apart from underneath him, Aerdan was kicking and churning the water with his legs, trying desperately to stay above the surface. Rain spattered his forehead and each time the sea rose, his mouth and nose filled with acrid salt water. Aerdan was coughing and gasping, kicking as hard as he could. When he closed his eyes, Angelica’s beautiful face filled his mind.

  Aerdan felt the strength begin leaving his body. He sighed and shuddered as his limbs ached with the torment of fighting the angry sea. It felt good to close his eyes, even though an alarm bell at the back of his mind kept screaming for Aerdan to stay awake. I’m sorry, Angelica, Aerdan thought blearily as yet another huge wave crashed over his floating body. I tried. But I guess I wasn’t strong enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Angelica

  Angelica leaned against the wall of her cell and sighed. She hugged her knees to her chest, wrapping her long arms around her legs and biting her lip. She had no way of determining just how long she’d been locked inside the dungeon under the castle of Glasule, but it felt like she had been there for hours.

  Angelica’s mind was foggy. Immediately upon surrendering herself to the sorceress Namaya, she’d been given a potent and toxic drink that glowed bright green and made her feel sicker than she ever had before. She had passed out almost immediately.

  When she’d woken up, she’d found herself alone in a cold, damp cell. The walls were blocks of stone, covered in lime and mold. The floor was cold stone covered with a sparse sprinkling of hay. Worst of all, there was nothing even resembling a modern amenity inside the cell. She’d found a lumpy pillow on the floor, but a rat had emerged and Angelica had shrieked, throwing the pillow at the wall. There was a bucket covered with a plank of wood in the corner…but Angelica somehow guessed what that was for, and she stayed as far away as possible.

  The dungeon was eerily quiet. Angelica couldn’t see much from her cell – the iron bars were planted firmly in the stone wall, feet away from the entrance, effectively blocking her off from the rest of the prison. Still, she could tell that the dungeon itself was quite large: the only sounds she heard, besides the dripping of water onto the floor, were echoes from floors far above her head. Angelica had never felt claustrophobic before, but something about being locked in a tiny stone room was driving her crazy.

  The rough homespun gown scratched her neck and shoulders. Somewhere, her silk gown and golden hair ornaments had been taken. That wasn’t a surprise, but it did make Angelica feel uncomfortable that someone had stripped her and then re-dressed her while she had been unconscious. All of her positive opinions about the land of Zheka had vanished – she was obviously in some kind of medieval hell, doomed to rot in a subterranean cell.

  Angelica perked up at the sound of stone gliding against stone. She was equally terrified and hopeful – someone could be coming to torture her…or rescue her. Either way, she knew she was powerless. Still, she didn’t regret her decision to turn herself in. She knew that the royal family of Zheka was more important than the life of a mere girl. And yet, Angelica didn’t think it was exactly fair. I didn’t ask to be brought here, she thought, squirming uncomfortably on the stone floor. Why are they doing this to me? Why can’t they just send me home if I’m such a threat?

  Tears welled up in her eyes as Angelica realized she may never again see New York, or Stacy, or even her bitchy boss at the gallery, Nadine.

  Lumbering footsteps made Angelica jump. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she shifted and rolled to her knees, standing up quickly and defensively pressing her back against the cell. Soon, a guard came into sight. He was a bulky, huge man – obviously some kind of retired warrior. His skin was lined and creased and his hair was a shock of silver. But his muscles still bulged, and Angelica guessed he had been hired specifically to guard her.

  “Please, sir,” Angelica begged in a quiet voice. “May I have some water?”

  The guard looked at her, his lips parted. A long string of drool emerged from his mouth and dripped down his chin. Angelica shuddered.

  “Please,” Angelica repeated. “Please give me some water.” She rubbed her throat and mimed taking a drink from an invisible cup. “I’m so thirsty.”

  Just thinking about water made Angelica’s throat ache. Suddenly, she remembered waking up in the lush, verdant clearing of the woods. And to think I felt bad then, she thought sadly.

  The guard didn’t reply. He shuffled closer, grabbing the iron bars of Angelica’s cell and pressing his face to them. He stared at her face, licking his lips all the while.

  “Can you understand me?” Angelica asked gently, trying not to show the repulsion she felt. “Do you speak this language?”

  The guard grunted. He lifted his arms in a vague shrug, then slipped his fingers through the bars and reached for Angelica.

  “Pretty…”

  Angelica shuddered at the guard’s stilted, awkward speech. “Please, some water,” she said.

  The guard didn’t reply. He stood there, fingering the iron bars and keeping his eyes focused on Angelica.

  “Can you let me go?” Angelica whispered. “Please – I need to go home.” Her chest ached with longing. When she closed her eyes, she expected to see the bustling city of New York painted on her lids. But much to her surprise, Aerdan’s handsome, leonine face flashed into her mind. His bright blue eyes, his sensual lips. The way he’d kissed her. The way he’d called her beautiful, and held her in his arms.

  The sound of the dungeon door scraping open once again made Angelica jump, and thoughts of Aerdan vanished from her mind. The guard didn’t move – he stood perfectly still, staring at Angelica.

  “Pretty…”

  “Oh, shut up, you fool!”

  Angelica looked to the right and saw a girl, close her own age, approaching the cell. She was of average height and squat, with a squished face that reminded Angelica of a hairless Persian cat. Her blonde hair was brushed into a smooth orb at the top of her head, and her lumpy figure was stuffed in
to a dress that looked remarkably like the dress Angelica had been wearing earlier.

  The girl walked closer and smacked the guard on the side of his head. He barely flinched. Despite the assault, he didn’t even look at the other girl. She glared at him angrily and started beating and punching him around the shoulders and the neck.

  “Leave, you idiot! Go back to your corner,” the girl shrieked as she rained blows on the guard’s powerful muscular bulk.

  If she hadn’t been so frightened, Angelica might have laughed. The sight of this fat girl assaulting one of the biggest men she’d ever seen was ridiculous. Even though the guard was elderly, Angelica could tell that he was powerful – he could have grabbed the girl and whipped her over his head with one hand if he wanted. Instead, he nodded meekly and slunk away.

  The girl pulled a three-legged wooden stool close to the bars of the cell and sat down. The silk bodice of her dress ripped and dimpled flesh spilled out. Even in the dim light, Angelica was sure that it was the dress that had been taken from her.