Ashes to Ashes

by Carrie F. Shepherd

  “He turned me from his servitude eagerly enough.” She looked away. I sensed that Loki knew that she was lying. But he, clearly, didn’t care. She told him what she needed him to know when he needed to know it and he was, for now, seemingly content with that. Besides, when she turned her gaze back to him, she spoke words he had ever longed to hear. “And I love you. I would proudly bear your children.”

  “I would eagerly plant them within you.” His tone was thick with his lust. “If you aren’t teasing me—”

  “Never, Loki.” She replied, lowering her gaze as her cheeks flushed pink. “You know I desire you. I’ve never hidden this fact from you.” She raised her gaze again. “Do you deny that you desire me as well?”

  “Never in life.” He whispered.

  “Well, then.” She stood and walked toward him. When she was before him, she set both hands upon his shoulders. As he looked up at her, his senses were clearly no longer his own. When she straddled him and reached for his belt to unbuckle it, he appeared to lose all control. “Now seems to me as perfect a time to start as any.”

  “As you will me, my Lady.” He responded to this as he reached for her hips, wearing a cocky, hungry grin under his ever so famous goatee. “I am, as I ever have been, yours to command.”

  -9-

  After searching in all of the usual places, Faunus finally found Prince Iladrul in deep contemplation beside the river which ran through their lands. He sat on the very edge of the bank with his long, gray skirt pulled up to his knees and his bare feet dangling in the deep, white capped water of the river.

  Relieved to have found his Prince, Faunus let out a grateful sigh and quickened his pace so that he might speak with the other boy.

  “My Prince!” He called, “There you are!”

  “Here I am.” Prince Iladrul agreed, not looking away from the river.

  “Tarna and I are going to play at swords.” Faunus tried to engage his Prince. “Do you wish to join?”

  “Not really.” He replied, never looking away from the rushing water of the river.

  “Then archery?” Faunus suggested.

  “No.” A little more irritably.

  “We could go spy on the doxies.” Faunus offered. “There’s that pretty female one with the lavender eyes that you like—”

  “I don’t want to.” He snapped.

  Faunus flinched. He didn’t understand this sudden disinterest in the doxies. Prince Iladrul had been the first of them to brave sneaking into the village unaccompanied by his father. As he had been the one to show the others where the doxies bathed. Since then, he and Faunus had taken every opportunity afforded to them to sneak into the forest so that they might hide in the trees and watch from a distance.

  “Then we could tease the kitchen girls.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Prince Iladrul raved. “What don’t you understand? The demons breached our borders! They killed our General at Arms! Yet, all that you care about is useless fawning over slaves and servants?”

  Faunus recoiled.

  “As you say, my Prince.” He was cautious with his response. “But you should let my father know when you leave the castle grounds.”

  “Your father is not my father.” Prince Iladrul snapped at him.

  “Maybe not, my Prince.” Faunus conceded. “But he is, now, the General of your Kinsgard. And he can’t protect you if he doesn’t know where you are.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want to be protected.” Prince Iladrul continued to stare up at Faunus. His brooding expression was now replaced by something entirely different.

  It wasn’t defeat, exactly. But it was an extremely near thing.

  Whatever it was, Faunus didn’t like it.

  Having shared the cradle with Prince Iladrul, however, Faunus knew when to question the boy and when to let things bide.

  “As you will, my Prince.”

  A strange shiver passed over the older boy’s face before he looked away. Prince Iladrul was, clearly, finished with their palaver.

  Faunus bowed to him again, though Prince Iladrul didn’t see it, and turned away.

  He hesitated for a moment, wondering what the right thing was to do.

  He should speak with his father about his concerns regarding the Prince and he knew that. But his father had gone to the doxy village, presumably in seek of comfort from what he had seen. To go there without his father accompanying him could get Faunus into grave trouble. To interrupt his father if he were rutting with one of the breeding angels would ensure that his back was stripped.

  He would wait, he thought. He would speak with his father when the General returned home.

  This was his plan until he looked over his shoulder. Seeing Prince Iladrul so broken and small, he knew that his personal safety meant little and less compared to that of his future King.

  Hoping the whipping he was liable to earn on his Prince’s behalf was worth the effort, Faunus stepped onto the Great Road and began walking away from the castle grounds.

  From where Prince Iladrul was sitting, the doxy village was two streams stemmed from the main river to the southeast. It was a pretty walk, with the river on one side and the forest on the other.

  The forest also resumed on the other side of the river. It was on that side where Faunus and his friends usually approached on their ventures to spy.

  When Faunus reached the bridge that crossed from the land of the freemen to that of the doxies, he stopped and looked toward the small shack where a guard should have been set. Given that their people had been attacked that morning, Faunus found it queer that the shack was empty. Yet, perhaps, this was merely because the angel on duty was securing the borders to the village.

  Shrugging, Faunus looked toward the village, itself, to the many rows of cottages. They were built neatly together with only small gaps to separate them. Most of them had small back yards where the inhabitants could grow vegetables and many had flower beds neatly planted in front. Each cottage looked virtually the same; the only distinction being the odd porch swing or personal bric-a-brac chosen by the inhabitants to liven up, Faunus had to assume, a very dreary existence.

  There was no luxury here, as there were for those born of the freemen and Kinsgard. What pleasures these folk found they made themselves.

  While his father didn’t own any of the breeding angels—purchase of the doxies was being saved for their children once they reached the age for such things—he did have one that he preferred. Though Faunus had only met her once, it had been at her cottage. Because of this, he knew exactly where to go to find his father.

  He knocked, and he waited. Eventually she answered, at first curious and then smiling. Faunus smiled in return—an easy thing to do given that she was beautiful with her long brown hair and hazel eyes—and gave her a bow. “I seek my father, my Lady.”

  “I’m sorry, Faunus.” She shook her head. “I believe that he’s with Jeanir this afternoon.”

  Faunus continued to smile politely at her. She had said this with no jealousy. He didn’t understand this, given she was his father’s favorite whore. He supposed when he had whores of his own he would better comprehend their politics. “Where does she live?”

  “He,” she chuckled, “lives just about four cottages down on the left.” She stepped out and pointed in that direction. “There. The one with the yellow flowers in the front.”

  Faunus’ brow furrowed as he allowed his gaze to follow her finger.

  He hadn’t been aware that there were male angels that lived in the Doxy Village. He had always assumed that they were all female.

  “Thank you.” He said and turned away from her, stepping off her porch and walking, extremely baffled, to the cottage which belonged to the angel named Jeanir.

  When he reached the door to Jeanir’s cottage, he hesitated. Something about the air around the place made him shiver.

  When he thought to the dark fear in Prince Iladrul’s eyes, however, he knew he had no choice. He had come this far; he might as well se
e this through.

  He knocked, and, once again, he waited.

  For five shifts of the shadows he waited before the door opened and a very tall, very muscular angel darkened its frame. Upon first looking at the angel’s face, he would have sworn it was his father. Until, that was, the angel lowered his gaze to meet the boy’s.

  The angel wore nothing but a simple, pleated, black linen skirt, which left his torso bear and extended its courtesy only to his knees. Around his neck was a thick gold chain with an onyx scarab that lay flush against the flesh beneath his laryngeal prominence. Across his chest was an angry scar that must have been the wound which had felled him in his mortal life. His father had a similar one, though it ran along his back rather than his chest.

  As for the angel’s hair, which, like his father’s was long and blonde, it was plaited into tiny braids that were adorned with gold and garnets. His eyes, dark brown in color, just like his father’s, were terrifying and depthless.

  He must have misunderstood who Faunus was because he growled, “Where’s your mother boy? You shouldn’t be knocking on a stranger’s door. You’re likely to be raped. Weren’t you taught better?”

  “I’m . . .” Faunus shook his head. “Forgive me, Sir. I’m looking for my father. I was told that he might be here.”

  “Who’s your father, then?” The angel asked gruffly. His dark eyes were narrowed as he ran his strong, warrior’s hand through his long blonde braids.

  What are you doing here? Faunus thought as he looked upon him. You belong in the army. Not studding as a doxy.

  “General Balean of the Kinsgard, Sir.” Faunus swallowed. “I need to speak with him.”

  The angel snorted, looked over his shoulder, barked Faunus’ father’s name and returned his gaze to the boy. “Wait here.”

  The door slammed closed in Faunus’ face. He took two steps back, surprised at the rudeness, and then turned his back to it.

  He supposed that if he were an angel such as that one and he had pulled the wrong stone when the time for the dividing duties had come that he would, probably, be just as angry and, thus, just as rude.

  But for the color of the stone my own mother pulled, it might just as well be me living in this village.

  He shivered at the thought and put it out of his mind. His mother hadn’t drawn the red stone. She’d drawn the silver one. As such, she was a freewoman. Fortunately, so were her children. That his father had pulled the gold stone and then battled with the other warriors to earn his title as Second in Command was nothing more than a simple turn of Lady Moira’s blessings.

  It was a good fifteen shifts of the shadows before the door opened again. By then, Faunus had lowered himself into a seated position on the porch stairs. The sound of his father’s voice, however, brought him immediately to his feet.

  “What is the meaning of this, boy?”

  Balean’s voice seethed with anger. In fact, he was angrier than Faunus had ever seen him be before.

  Faunus braced himself as he turned to face his father. “Forgive me, Sir.” He swallowed back his fear. “I wouldn’t have come, but I think it’s important.”

  “What do you know of important?” His father growled at him. His dark eyes were brooding and every line of his face was drawn in irritation.

  “My concern is for Prince Iladrul, Sir.” Faunus forced himself to hold his father’s gaze. “Something is upsetting him.”

  His father’s face transformed from one of anger and irritation to one of deep concern. “What, do you think, that might be?”

  Faunus shook his head. He didn’t know how to voice what he suspected.

  “Out with it boy!” His father, not always a patient man, snapped.

  Faunus shook his head again. But this time he found his voice.

  “He’s been distant. He won’t train with us. He won’t play with us either. He only sits by himself and broods.” He lowered his gaze and swallowed. This he would be punished for and he knew it. “I asked him if he wanted to sneak to the river and watch the doxies bathe and he didn’t even have an interest in that.”

  When his father spoke, his tone was bemused. “You shouldn’t sneak about the doxies. You aren’t ready for that.”

  Blushing, Faunus nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Don’t do it again.” Still bemused, though the order buried within his words was clear. If he disobeyed he would regret it. He knew that and so promised himself he would no longer sneak through the forest to spy. “And tell your friends the same.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Now his voice was filled with concern again. “Prince Iladrul’s behavior, I mean. Not your peeping.”

  “Since this morning.” Faunus answered, relieved.

  “Does this have to do with the demon, then?”

  “I think so.” Faunus nodded. “He seems . . .” He felt a strange satisfaction as he said the words. He wasn’t certain where it came from, or why, and nor would he reflect on it. “He seems frightened, Sir.”

  General Balean nodded. “Go home, boy. You don’t belong here.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Faunus bowed to him.

  His father turned away from him, ready to return to the angel within, and then froze. “Faunus.”

  “Yes, Sir?” Faunus, who was leaving, turned back to him.

  “Best you don’t tell anyone where you found me.”

  Faunus, taken aback by this request, stared at him with wide eyed confusion. Though he knew the consequences of class mixing, he had never seen them for himself and so took them far too lightly. He didn’t understand what could happen to both Balean and Jeanir should Balean’s consistent visits with his brother be discovered.

  “Do you hear me?” Balean asked, impatiently.

  “Yes, Sir.” Faunus nodded as he decided whatever his father’s reasons where they were his own.

  His father glared at him in response. “I’ll see you at supper.”

  -10-

  Balean approached Wisterian very wearily. His King had been very moody all day.

  Not that he didn’t have good reason. Plenty had happened that day to put the Kingdom at risk. Balean, himself, had been out of sorts since seeing Titheron’s felled body.

  “Are you going to hover in the shadows all evening, Balean?” Wisterian, not looking up from the paperwork that consumed him, sighed after Balean had hovered at the door for far too long. “Or do you mean to palaver?”

  “Forgive me, your Highness.” Balean bowed to him. “I was lost in thought.”

  “You’re lost in thought overly much these days.” Wisterian raised his emerald gaze and pushed his long, copper hair behind his now pointed elf’s ear. “You’re not thinking of calling upon Sir Zadkiel I hope? I need you yet. I would hate to think you would permanently expire yourself a purpose.”

  Balean smiled at this and shook his head. “No, your Highness. Nothing like that.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Wisterian nodded to him. “I would be lost without you.”

  “I appreciate your honor.” Balean bowed to him.

  “Then honor me enough, in like kind, to speak your mind.” His wide mouth curled into a strange smile. “What troubles you Balean?”

  Balean sighed, frowned, and bowed again. “I am concerned about Prince Iladrul.”

  “Iladrul?” Wisterian asked, his lips twitching. “Why?”

  “My son,” Balean gave him a tired, proud smile, “Faunus. He tells me that Prince Iladrul hasn’t spent time with him and the other boys today.”

  “Is that true?” Wisterian asked, now visibly concerned.

  “He is Faunus’ best friend.” Balean didn’t know if this was true or not, though the two boys did spend the majority of their free time together. “My son would sense a change in Prince Iladrul if any of the boys were to do so.”

  Wisterian sighed and nodded. “I will speak with him.”

  “Thank you, your Highness.” Balean bowed again, meaning to take his leave.

/>   “How is Jeanir?”

  Balean frowned at him. He had seen, for himself, by way of Zander, how Wisterian dealt with those who broke the rules and mixed classes. “Your Highness?”

  “Where else would you go after a day such as yesterday?” Wisterian leveled his gaze upon Balean. “If not to take comfort from your brother and to gain counsel from our greatest warrior?”

  Balean lowered his gaze. “I find myself a bit overwhelmed with my new station.”

  “You’re up for the task.” Wisterian lowered his quill. “Do you believe otherwise?”

  “No.” Balean’s response was swift. He had nearly bested Titheron when the time for deciding which of them would be General had come. So that wasn’t the problem. The problem lay in the fact that their greatest asset was living his life as a stud rather than as a soldier. “I don’t, but . . .”

  Wisterian cocked his head slightly to the left. His lips thinned. He waited, rather patiently, for Balean to continue.

  “I merely wonder if now is the time to sit on politics.”

  “You believe I should put Jeanir in your place.” It wasn’t a question, though Balean nodded all the same. “He pulled his stone, Balean. The same as you.”

  “Are we to put our children’s lives at risk because the storming stones decreed it should be so?” Balean asked him. “The vampires breached our borders. We’re lucky it was only soldiers and angels who were slaughtered.”

  “I know you well, Balean.” Wisterian sat back in his chair. “You wouldn’t have come to me with a problem that has no solution.”

  Balean sighed his relief in response. “What if you were to purchase his doxy?”

  Wisterian’s green eyes narrowed.

  “I know you have no interest in such things.” Balean shrugged. “But Jamiason and Jeanir were fast friends. He knows the manner in which James strategizes better than any of us. And James is our enemy now.” He swallowed. “I think you should consider purchasing Jeanir’s eldest children for your son.”

  “He’s too young.” Wisterian barked. “He’s barely found his hand.”

  “Your Highness,” Balean tried to hold his frustrated tone. “Consider it an unnecessary precaution if you must.” Wisterian’s expression relaxed slightly. “Jeanir has been training all five of his children since they were born. The four boys can protect the Prince when he goes off to war. And the girl can become his taster to ensure that he’s not poisoned.”