Bound to the Prince (28 page)

Ruadan caught her chin with his hand, forcing
her to look into his eyes. “And when I am, will you stay by my
side? As my queen? I know it’s an uncommon alliance, but we are
royalty. I need an heir of my own, a son. Our pure blood must not
be weakened.”

Breena turned her head to escape his touch,
but she smiled at him reassuringly. “I’ll always be with you,
Ruadan. You know how much I love you. But how can we ever be close
while the king and his traitorous son still live? You are only the
second in line to the throne. Take this dagger, son. You are Bres’s
true heir now, so it is yours. My husband is asleep, but I am bound
to spend the night in his bed, not yours. Act like the warrior I
raised you to be, then we will both be free. When you are king, you
can take whatever you desire, my Lord.”

Ruadan looked down at the weapon, slowly
closing his hand around it. “I wonder if the legends are true,” he
murmured. “Do you think the king will feel the pain when I stab his
heart?”

Breena’s eyes held not the slightest
compassion for her husband who was doomed to die. When she reached
out to cover her son’s hand with her own, the sharp blade cut into
Ruadan’s palm. A small stream of blood ran over his wrist and
dropped down on the light green silk of her nightgown. She dipped
her finger into it and brought the blood to her lips, sealing the
pact.

“To be honest with you, son, I do not care at
all.”

* * * * *

Ruadan remembered the astounded expression in
Bres’s eyes when he opened them, looking at his son who stood at
the side of his four-poster bed. “Ruadan?” he asked before
following the prince’s gaze down to his own chest, to the weapon
that stuck firmly in his heart. He seemed surprised, not horrified
or frightened. Apparently he did not feel any pain.
“
Saighneán
,” he said like welcoming an old friend.
“Elathan,” he continued, a hopeful smile spreading across his lips.
“He came home. But how …?”

The elven king directed his attention back
towards his younger son, and understanding dawned in his face. He
tried to speak, but a fountain of blood gushed from his mouth and
suffocated any word he had intended to utter. Then his eyes dimmed,
their accusing stare never leaving his son’s face. A violent
shudder ran through his white-clad body, then it was over.

What mother said was not true, Ruadan
thought. The king had not expected his own death, neither had he
embraced it. He had wanted to live - live to see his son and heir
again one day. Elathan.

However, it did not matter now. Not anymore.
Bres and his highly valued son would be reunited in death very
soon, and Ruadan would be king. He truly hoped that Elathan would
return now. It would spare him the effort of tracking his brother
down until he found the rabbit hole he had been hiding in for so
many years.

Either way, Elathan would die.

Chapter 20: The Blue
Plains of Debethea

Igraine felt a strange sense of foreboding
when they eventually left the outskirts of the Enchanted Forest
behind. To her surprise, she had grown attached to the high old
trees. They seemed to be unshielded and vulnerable when they
stepped out of their shadows. She snuggled closer to Elathan’s
chest and looked up to the crowns of the oaks and elms. Their
leaves rustled in the wind, and a creaking noise came from the
trunks, as if they moaned in protest because they didn’t want their
prince to leave.

“Will we ever return to these woods?” she
softly murmured to herself. But he had heard her, as she
expected.

“I do not know, Igraine,” he answered, “but
it is my wish and hope. This is the only place I ever called home.
Would you not prefer to live in a great castle, enjoying all the
luxuries and comforts of a life as my companion?”

Igraine smiled. Her heart began to beat
faster when she realized that he had not called her a slave this
time. She wondered if he realized it.

“I would prefer the tree house you built for
me anytime, my Lord, but I do not care as long as you are with me,”
she said. She felt how his body went rigid against her back for a
moment, and she could feel his warm breath in her hair before he
placed a kiss on her head. Obviously her answer had surprised him
as much as it pleased him.

When he didn’t speak, she continued, “Tell me
about the court and the elves who live there.”

“Not only elves, but also fairies, goblins,
nymphs, gnomes and other creatures, ambassadors, warriors and
merchants. Whoever approaches the castle gates in peace is welcome
there, at least those are … were my father’s orders.” He fell
silent for a moment. Igraine reached for his hand which held the
reins and covered it with her own, still surprised that he
tolerated her touch so easily.

“I guess it’s like every royal court,”
Elathan added in a pensive tone, shrugging. His thoughts seemed to
be far away, in another time, another place. “Honorable knights,
haughty lord and ladies who like to display their wealth, parents
who try to arrange profitable marriages for their daughters, the
low-born courtier who hopes to gain the king’s favor to obtain a
title. They come and go like the seasons. It is strange. Despite
all the people around me who were trying to get my attention at
court, I felt … alone, even more than during all the years in
exile.”

“Are there others like me?” Igraine
asked.

“Humans? Only a few, mostly servants and …
slaves.” He tightened his arm around her waist. “Forgive me,
Igraine. But when we’ll arrive at court, you will have to appear as
my …”

“Slave,” Igraine finished for him. “A very
honorable one, but a slave nonetheless.”

“Yes. If I openly show my …” he hesitated,
searching for the right word, “affection for you, I will lose my
face and endanger you,
mo gráh
. Ruadan will be looking for
any sign of weakness he can use against me. If he finds out the
deep connection we share, he will try to harm you, even kill you.
So in public, I will act indifferently to you, and you will be my
lowly human slave who serves and attends to her master’s needs.
That is, if you accompany me at all. I wonder if I should not keep
you away from all this?”

“And what should I do without you, alone in a
world that deems my race as inferior and worthless? No. I’ll go
where you go, whatever it means.”

Elathan nodded shortly, but he didn't answer.
Yet his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him
while he steered the horse into a gallop so fast they seemed to
fly. Calatin following them closely on his own steed. They rode on
for a while silently, and Igraine felt sleepy. Her head rested
against his broad chest, and the sound of his regular heartbeat
made her feel safe. Right at this moment, she couldn’t care less
about what would happen to her in the future.

What an irony of fate that just now, when she
finally had found a reason to live, she was doomed to die. But she
did not regret her choice. Her worst fear was not for herself, but
for him. Nothing was as terrible as the possibility that she would
have to live on after that strong elven heart stopped beating,
never to feel his touch again, never listen to his voice again,
even if he commanded her to leave him forever. Maybe the unicorn
had been wrong about her death, but eventually it would happen
anyway. He would send her away. But at least she would know that he
was alive. After they had shared their blood, he was a part of her,
and she would sense his presence as long as she lived. She would
know if he was happy or felt pain, if he was excited or angry, and
it might be enough to feel this connection inside her very
soul.

Igraine must have slept for a long time, for
when she awakened with a start, they stood on the top of a hill,
looking down on what at first sight looked like an endless ocean to
her, a sea of the most beautiful blue water. Elathan and Calatin
talked to each other in their elven language, their melodic voices
deep and calm, although when she looked at the prince’s face, it
was tight with sorrow and anger. Clearly he did not like what
Calatin was telling him, undoubtedly about the happenings at
court.

She decided to ask Elathan later about it and
turned her attention back to the amazing landscape enfolding before
her eyes. When she took a closer look, she saw that it was not
water but endless fields of grass that stretched to the horizon
with just a few soft hills diverting one’s gaze from the
disturbingly even vista. Surprisingly, it was not green but a
lovely, iridescent shade of turquoise that changed constantly while
the wind moved over it and created rippling waves, some in a
silvery, lighter tone, others so dark they looked almost black. She
was almost sure that colors like these were not possible in her
human world, but she could not deny what she saw.

Suddenly she remembered something her
grandmother had told her once, about a dream she had had when she
was young. It had been shortly after the dead of her father, and he
had appeared to her in a dream. He had stood on a hill and gestured
to his daughter to show her the lands on the other side where he
resided now, to let her know that he was happy. Granny had never
told Igraine exactly what she had seen there, but she had sworn
that there were colors that simply did not exist on earth.

For a moment, Igraine asked herself if she
was already dead. Maybe she just didn’t remember that she had
actually jumped from the bridge and was in the place her
grandmother had spoken of, wandering these strange lands as a
ghost, not knowing that she had crossed the borders to the
afterlife, not accepting what had happened. A shiver ran down her
spine, and she felt Elathan’s body tighten in the saddle behind
her. Doubtless he felt her sudden distress, instinctively
tightening his arm around her waist. His warm breath grazed her ear
when he protectively bowed closer over her, and she felt his
strength, his powerful presence protecting her. So very much alive,
she thought. If this mighty warrior was not by chance a ghost,
surely she had to be among the living, too?

“The Blue Plains of Debethea,” he murmured
into her hair. “A beautiful place, but at the same time deadly to
the stranger who crosses these peaceful-looking fields, not knowing
that certain death awaits him once night has fallen.” When Igraine
turned her head to meet his eyes, he stretched out his arm and
pointed to the fields with his gloved hand. “Look,” he said. “But
look closely.”

She narrowed her eyes and watched the sea of
grass that moved in the breeze. At first, she did not see anything
extraordinary. She could not imagine what could be so dangerous
about a grass plain. But then she saw something, only for an
instant. It was half hidden behind one of the rare hills, and she
almost missed it. There was a movement that clearly wasn’t caused
by the wind because it went in the other direction, so rapidly that
it was hardly recognizable before it stopped abruptly. It was a
large, rounded form, maybe some animal that crouched there, but it
had exactly the same color as the blades of grass around it. Some
kind of animal, maybe? She tried to look harder, but the creature
seemed to have noticed her attention and became so still it was
indistinguishable from its natural environment.

“What … is that?” she whispered. “You have
exceptionally sharp eyes for a human,” Elathan answered. “It’s a
grass demon, not very different from a troll. They live in holes
and tunnels they dig in the ground, they can move very fast and are
true masters when it comes to hiding themselves. In size and shape,
they resemble their kin who live high up in the mountains, far
away, but they are predators, very strong, clever, quick and
cunning, and have sharp claws and teeth. Usually they stay among
themselves, hunting the game that feeds on this fertile plain, but
from time to time they like to eat something with more … substance.
They stay underground during the day, but when they come out at
night, the hunt begins. Oh, and they don’t like being disturbed by
strangers. You would be well advised not to fall asleep in this
soft blue grass after the sun goes down.”

“But … do we have to go this way?” Igraine
asked, frightened. “And how long will it take to cross the
plains?”

Elathan chuckled. “It is not the only way to
reach my father’s castle, but by far the fastest. On horseback, it
should take us three days and nights.” At the sound of Igraine’s
sharp intake of breath, he continued, “Don’t worry, sweet Igraine.
I know a safe place for us to spend the night – if we reach it
before sundown, that is.” Before she could ask more questions, he
turned to Calatin. “I assume the inn still stands after all this
time?”

A bright smile appeared on the copper-haired
elf’s handsome face. “You can bet on it. If there is something
consistent in this world, it’s Eamon’s house. It has been there
forever, always a safe haven for those who try to cross the plains.
But it’s not easy to reach. Some old protective spell seems to make
it hard to find. Every time I went there, it seemed to be at a
different place in the plains.”

“Then ride ahead like the wind, friend, and
have them prepare their best rooms for us. I want to avoid too much
attention before I reach the castle. You may tell them that I am a
distant member of the royal family and that I do not want my
identity to be known. Order him to shield us from the other guests’
curiosity.”

Calatin bowed his head. “As you wish, Sire.
Though I doubt he’ll recognize us. It has been a very long time. Do
you think he still remembers a certain elf who was drunk enough to
get into a brawl and demolish his whole guest room?”

Elathan grinned. “If so, I bet he also
remembers how well I paid him for the damage. However, tell him
that I want his best room, and I want it clean. If I find just one
bug in my bed, I’ll hold him personally responsible. And tell him
that I trust in his discretion. Here,” he drew out a small leather
bag from behind his belt and threw it to Calatin, “this will make
sure that he keeps his gossiping mouth shut.”