Dark One Rising

by Leandra Martin

  She waited a half hour more, then as her father was having a conversation with an earl to his right, she slipped away. She was almost to the door when a hand grabbed her shoulder, not roughly, but firm. She turned to whoever was foiling her escape and looked up into the face of the Duke of Xenos. He was dressed in gray hosen, with a black leather sleeveless doublet and white ruffled shirt. He had black leather riding gloves tucked in his belt, and his black leather boots were polished. He smiled down at her in a charming way, but she knew better. She did not smile back and said nothing.

  “Running off so soon, Your Highness. The festivities have only just begun.”

  “I’m not feeling all that well, Your Grace. I feel I should lie down for a while.”

  His smile turned to a sneer, his dark eyes piercing through her. “I’m sorry to hear that, Your Highness. Maybe all you require is a bit of soothing from a gentle hand.” He rubbed his fingers up her arm and then touched her cheek. A shiver went up her spine, but it was not from pleasure. She took a deep breath, calming herself. She knew all about him. He was callous and crass and quick to temper. He had plenty of mistresses, but none that kept him satisfied enough to marry. She knew he was looking, and she had heard his aim had been on her for some time. She refused to let him shake her.

  “Tempting as that is, My Lord,” she answered pleasantly, “I believe sleep is all I require.”

  “It’s impolite to leave your own party before well wishers have had time to celebrate you further with dances and toasts. Perhaps a drink or two would alleviate your ills, and you could find your strength once again to dance. I would be honored if you would permit me to lead you around the floor for a tune, or two.” He hooked her arm with his and tried to steer her back to the open floor of the hall. She pulled back. “I don’t wish to insult you, My Lord, but I don’t wish to dance with you, and I do not feel well enough even if I did.”

  He leaned over so that he could get close enough to whisper in her ear. “There are some who think that you are just a tease. A woman who will lure men in with her charms and then push them away once they are ready to satisfy you. I think that you just haven’t had the touch of the right man yet. You will not be able to hide behind your skirts forever, Melenthia. Soon they will be pushed up and someone will have you, whether you want it or not. Teasing only causes men to get angry, and someone, one of these days, will take what they want. You have been unspoiled for too long. I imagine you are getting hot now, just by me talking about it.” He moved his hand between her legs, the layered skirts of her dress the only protection from his touch. He moved his other hand down her arm and slid it toward her waist. He swung it around her body and pulled her in to him and held tight so that she could not get away. “Can you feel it? I want you in the worst way. I’m already, just being next to you, starting to feel the heat rise in me. I could take you here and now if we were not in public. Maybe I should accompany you upstairs to your chamber and take away whatever ills you might be feeling. I think your fever is your desperate need to have a man satisfy you.”

  She moved her free hand and slapped him. He backed away, but only a little, then grabbed her again by the arm, this time hurting her.

  “Don’t tease me, Your Highness. I don’t like it.”

  “You came on to me when I only wished to retire for the evening, by myself.”

  He squeezed harder, pressing his leg up against her.

  “Let go. You’re hurting me.”

  “I will have you, Melenthia, one way or another. You can either give yourself willingly to me, or I will just take you. It’s your choice of course, but willingly will get you the least hurt.”

  Kevaan glanced her way from across the room. He saw the look on her face and the one on Fallon’s. He excused himself from the conversation he was having and came over to her quickly, now trapped in the doorway by Fallon’s body. He placed a firm hand on Fallon’s shoulder and leaned in. “Is there something going on here I should know about?”

  “No. This is a conversation between me and Melenthia. It doesn’t concern you, Kevaan.”

  “It does if your conversation becomes threatening to my sister.”

  “Do you feel threatened, Melenthia?” he asked her, giving her a warning glare and pressing his leg further against her.

  “Just a bit uncomfortable, My Lord. I’m sure you mean no harm.”

  Fallon released his pressure on her leg. “Of course not.” He looked at Kevaan. “See, Your Highness, she’s fine.”

  Kevaan looked at his sister. She had an unreadable face, but he knew her too well. He asked her casually, if only to steer the conversation back to a less menacing tone. “Where are you off to, Melenthia?”

  “I don’t feel very well this evening. I’m just a bit woozy. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably from the excitement of the evening.”

  “Well, why don’t you go upstairs and lie down. I’ll give father your apologies.”

  “Thank you, Kevaan, I will do so. Good night.” She curtsied to Fallon. “Your Grace.”

  Fallon let go of her completely and allowed her to pass, leering at her until she disappeared around the corner. He turned to Kevaan again, seething.

  “Do not interfere in my business again, Kevaan.

  “I will interfere again if you forget your manners a second time.”

  “You cannot threaten me.”

  “Not a threat, a warning. Where my sister is concerned, I will interfere all I like until you get the message that when she says no, she means no. You do anything to make her uncomfortable again, you will deal with me, and I’ll have more than just a warning next time.”

  Fallon said nothing. He just glared at him and walked away. No one said no to him. He had his sights on Melenthia, and he would have her, by force if necessary. He didn’t think it would come to that, however. He had made steps toward achieving his goal. She would soon learn her place. Her curvaceous body and those full lips would soon be his, and he looked forward to it.

  CHAPTER 3

  A couple of hours later, Melenthia was sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair after taking a bath. A knock on the door made her stop, wondering if she should actually answer. She was afraid that maybe Fallon had come upstairs to seek her out, but then chided herself for being ridiculous. Kevaan would never let that happen.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Kevaan, Mel, let me in.”

  She stood up, went to the door and unlatched it. He came in as she was sitting on the bed. He sat down next to her and tapped her playfully on the nose.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine, Kevaan.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “My sensibilities maybe, but not physically, no.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Melenthia.”

  She sighed. “He did a bit, but I have experienced harder in the practice arena.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “Things a sister should not repeat to her brother as it would embarrass him.”

  “He should not have done or said anything that would insult your honor.”

  “A nice gesture from a brother to his sister, nothing more. Men always think they have the right to take what they want whether it’s inappropriate or not. There’s no impropriety where men are concerned.”

  “That’s not true of all men.”

  “You are not all men, Kevaan. You have the last of the romantic, gentle hearts.”

  “I should tell father.”

  She snickered. “Tell him what, that his favored man came on to his daughter. He will not listen. I tried to tell him before, and he didn’t listen then either.”

  “He needs to know that Fallon is a scoundrel, and he should not allow him near his only daughter.”

  “Father sees only what he chooses to see. Fallon is a shrewd businessman who meticulously handles his estates. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  “I’m sorry, Mel. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that on your birthday.”
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  “It’s just another day to remind me that I’m not married or betrothed or even have my sights set on some young nobleman. It’s just another day to remind me of my oddity.”

  He looked at her with love. “I celebrate you. You are beautiful, smart and compassionate, and somewhere in that rough exterior is a woman with a heart of gold and a love for life. I see it in your eyes every time I look into them. You are special, Melenthia, that I know.”

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I love you, Kevaan. You will always be the only man I ever love.”

  “You will find another. In time.”

  “Yes, but will it be too late by then? When will father decide that he will not wait anymore?”

  He knew his father was already thinking about it, but he had promised to tell Kevaan first. He didn’t want Melenthia to worry, so he fibbed. “He would not make a decision of that importance without my council. Don’t worry.” He kissed her cheek again and stood to leave. “Sleep tight, sister. Maybe if you dream of the one you want, he’ll present himself.”

  She giggled now. “If only that really did work. My dreams are always full of handsome men that love me for myself. Men that love me so deeply, they’d die for me. If only they were not dreams.”

  “There is one out there, I know it. Good night.”

  “Good night, Kevaan.”

  ***

  A couple of weeks later, Melenthia was down in the practice arena again, fighting off another challenger that was dumb enough to try and beat her. Randor was watching again from his audience chamber window. He had called for Kevaan to come down and see him. It was time Kevaan learned about Melenthia’s nuptials to the man of his choosing. Her party was over, and he had already had negotiations with her future husband. Things were arranged and plans were made. Kevaan would not be happy, but he had no say in the matter this time. He was her father, and his word was law.

  Kevaan entered the room and approached his father who was still watching her. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned and looked at his son.

  “Ah, Kevaan my boy, come in and sit. It’s time you and I had a talk about your sister’s future.”

  “You said that you’ve made a decision regarding Melenthia’s husband.”

  “Yes, I have chosen. I have decided to accept the only offer she’s had in years.”

  Kevaan hated to ask, for he didn’t want to know who his sister would be bound to against her will, but his curiosity prevailed, and he had waited two weeks to find out the truth.

  “Whom have you chosen, father?”

  The king glanced at his son, afraid to look him in the eye, and he didn’t answer for a long time. He was suddenly second guessing his decision and was afraid of telling Kevaan what he had done. The silence in the room was almost too much, the pause was too long. Kevaan was becoming nervous.

  “Father, what have you done?”

  Randor steeled himself and took a breath before answering. “What I should have done years ago.” He sighed. “I have chosen Duke Fallon for her husband.”

  He reeled. He never expected a fate as horrible as that. Fallon was a barbaric ogre. It was rumored that he used violence to instill fear in the villages of his realm. That was how he had obtained as much land as he had. He did not earn it, and he certainly didn’t deserve it. It was also rumored that he dabbled in the Dark Arts.

  He was only interested in power, and he was a warrior through and through. He loved no one and was seen with a different mistress every week, all of them harlots he picked off the street. When he tired of them, he cast them out, usually in worse condition than when he found them. He was insensitive, crass and very lewd. Melenthia would be in hell.

  The only time Fallon took a mistress from the court was to get whatever power or riches from the family he could, or to buy someone to join his cause.

  His father had been more then fair, he had to admit, and his father was right, it was more than high time she marry, but he felt that this punishment was too harsh. He had already had to deal with Fallon the night at the party. He was not yet married to her and was already pushing himself forcibly upon her. He would not tell his father that, because he was not sure he would believe him, but he was afraid for her. Kevaan breathed to calm himself and practically broke his teeth from clenching them so tight, trying not to speak. But his anger and disappointment prevailed. He couldn’t remain silent.

  “Father, you can’t possibly be serious. Fallon is not a good match for her, for any woman to put it bluntly. Power is all he seeks. He will not treat her well. Everyone knows he is quick to anger with words and with fist. She will be his only in name. She will be a slave under his roof, to bend to his will, and if she doesn’t do what he wants, she’ll suffer greatly. He’ll take her by force to make a son. He won’t love her like a husband should. She’ll be put aside to make room in his bed for his mistresses. Is that really the life you want for her? What would drive you mad enough to accept his proposal?”

  “He’s the only one who has asked. Everyone knows she has no suitors breaking down the door to ask me for her hand. To deny her to him could cause my reputation, and in saying so, your future, to crumble. You will be king someday so it was imperative that you choose a wife to be queen, and you have done so. She’s still a princess, and I won’t have her stubbornness embarrass me and my kingdom.”

  “He only asked because he seeks whatever hold he can gain over you. He’s looking for something you can give him. There’s a more sinister plan in his mind, father. Can you not feel it? Are you willing to put your only daughter through a life of humiliation and sadness just so you won’t have to hear the words people say about her? Are you willing to lose her, maybe sentence her to death, just to make sure Fallon doesn’t invade, doesn’t try to destroy you? We can fight him if we need to, father; we’ve fought worse.”

  “I’m afraid of him, Kevaan, and you should be too. His power is stronger than I could ever hope to vanquish. I’m sorry, Kevaan, I have no choice this time. I know you love her like no other and will do anything to protect her, but the future of this kingdom, your kingdom, lies on whether she marries or not. Sometimes we have to sacrifice in order to survive. We have a kingdom to protect.”

  “She was not given to you to make her the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. She’s your daughter, your blood. Mother would not have approved of this, and you know it.”

  “If your mother were still here, I wouldn’t have had to do this at all.” King Randor hung his head sadly and shook it. “I will not have an old maid for a daughter. I’m sorry, Kevaan, but she no longer gives me any option but this. You have done your duty for the crown; it’s her turn now. I would have rather chosen someone else other than Fallon for her, but no one else has asked, and I’ve run out of time. She will marry him. He will return in three days to go through the proper traditions. Do you want to be here when I tell her?”

  He thought about that for a moment, pictured the scene in his head and his heart started to ache. He could do nothing to stop her heart from breaking, but maybe he could be there for her after, to put it back together.

  “No, I don’t, father.”

  “Very well then. Please go down and send her to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ***

  Melenthia sat on a stone bench wiping her face with a towel, her sword lying on the bench beside her. She heard someone approaching and moved the cloth away from her eyes so she could see. Her brother walked toward her, looking not in the least bit pleased. He was tall, almost six-one, and had wide shoulders and large arms. His brown hair was short but thick, and a neatly trimmed mustache matched his hair color. His brown eyes were sharp but held a boyish sparkle at times when he was trying to joke with her. She could never look into those chocolate brown eyes and not smile. The eyes that watched over her all her life, the eyes that held a love for her she’d never seen in another man. At the moment, however, they held no sparkle, no jesting.

  She st
ood up to greet him and smiled. “Did you see that last duel, Kevaan? I was better than ever.”

  “Yes, I did. So did father.”

  “Oh.” She changed the subject. “What’s wrong? Why so glum?”

  He tried to hide his gloom by smiling at her and saying, “nothing”, but she was not easily convinced. She knew her brother.

  “What is it?”

  He gave up and said, “Father would like a word with you in his sitting room.”

  “Why do you look so upset? What does he want to see me about? Is he still upset about me leaving the party?”

  “No, but I cannot tell you because he wants to tell you.” He tried to make it sound less serious. “Why don’t you take a bath and change first.”

  She eyed him for a moment. “Goodness, Kevaan, it sounds very serious.”

  “Well, that’s because it is.”

  “Please tell me. You can break bad news gentler than he can.”

  “I can’t, Mel. It’s for father to tell you, not I.” He wanted to tell her. Wanted to try and break the news gently, tell her it would be okay. But he knew it was not his place. Besides, whatever wrath she would invoke on their father, he deserved.

  She sidled up to him smiling largely, her brilliant emerald colored eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. She tried using her girlish charms to persuade him. “Please.”

  He chuckled, for her playfulness always made him forget every pain. She wasn’t an ugly girl at all; on the contrary, she was a beautiful woman. Kevaan was ten years older than his sister, and when their mother died, he made sure she got all the best as she grew and often helped out whenever he could. He saw her bloom from an awkward tomboy, a lanky clumsy girl, to a vibrant feminine woman. All the attributes men find attractive were there. She was thin, but not boney, her features chiseled, but she lacked none of the womanly appeal. She had a small waist, perfectly proportioned hips, and a full bosom. Her long golden red, naturally curly hair was thick and shiny, and her skin was creamy and soft as a rose. Just like himself, she inherited her mother’s small nose, but unlike her father and brother’s eyes of brown, hers were emerald. Her color was different than anyone in the lineage, and it only added to her charm and intrigue. It wasn’t that men didn’t find her attractive when she was social and wore gowns; they practically tripped over themselves to be near her. It’s when she opened her mouth, showed them her personal side that men ran away. Even after growing up and learning how to be a lady, she never completely grew out of her tomboyish antics. She didn’t think a woman should be silent and always agreeable; she rode horses like the devil on the wind, still enjoyed swimming in the water hole down in the glen and fought with a sword better than a lot of men. She often dressed boyish too, like now, with baggy pants and shirt to hide her curves and knee high black riding boots. Her hair was pulled back and tied with a leather strap. Far away you may wonder about her gender dressed as she was, but up close, there was no mistake. He had asked her once why she dressed like that, and she said that whenever she dressed like a lady, mostly to try and make her father happy, men would come on to her, paw at her, and made statements of what they wanted from her. She grew weary of the innuendos and false personas.