Bound to the Prince (24 page)

“Him?” Igraine repeated absentmindedly, not
able to avert her gaze from the lake. The air was so hot that she
began to sweat, rivulets of moisture running down her neck and
collecting between her breasts. A damp lock stuck to her temple,
and she brushed it back. Suddenly, Elathan’s muscular forearms held
her closer. She was pressed against his body and felt his heated
skin, even through the layers of their elven clothing. The hard
length of his manhood tightened against her, and she moved
seductively, rubbing herself against him. The elf moaned and bit
playfully into the side of her neck to punish her.

“You should know by now how to behave in the
presence of a prince, woman,” he mocked her. “When we leave this
cave, I will have to teach you. I always wanted to find out how
long a frail human can take an elf’s pleasure. We will see.” He
paused, smiling darkly. Despite the heat, a shiver ran down
Igrain's spine. She already knew that the prince tended to fulfill
his promises.

“But now I want you to meet my friend,”
Elathan continued. “He is the oldest creature dwelling in this
forest. I hope that he has not already left for this night’s hunt.”
Elathan stepped away from Igraine before he closed his eyes and
concentrated, the air around him crackling with magic.

Igraine looked around, waiting for the
mysterious friend to enter, but nothing happened. She didn’t
realize at first that the surface of the lava began to change, the
black crust giving way to the blazing red heat erupting from the
depths of the crater. But then something seen from the corner of
her eye drew her attention, and she just turned her head in time to
see a long, sharp object piercing the bubbling liquid. It was
gleaming fiery red like the element from which it was released,
smoke rising from the razor-sharp tip. It seemed to be made from a
bone-hard material, and diagonal lines wound around the whole
length of it.

It was a horn.

She couldn’t believe her own eyes when she
saw the beast emerging from the molten lava. It was a creature born
of fire, covered with opalescent, golden-red scales. Black,
snake-like pupils glowed like charcoals in the dark. There was no
doubt that the horn rising from its forehead was a deadly weapon.
It left the lake step by step, moving with grace and beauty.
Faintly resembling a huge, muscular war horse, it walked on four
long legs with cleft hooves. But its head looked more like a
reptile’s, with small nose slits and sharp, predatory teeth in the
slightly bent snout. Igraine involuntarily went closer to Elathan
again, remembering the cleanly gnawed bones she had seen in the
antechambers. The bushy mane and tail looked like a lion’s,
shimmering white and golden.

Elathan pushed her behind him, shielding her
with his body from the beast’s sight.
“A unicorn,” Igraine whispered.

Elathan nodded slightly. “His father was. But
his mother was a dragon. His name is Aonadharcach, and he is the
last of his kind. I would suggest that you stay back and let me
talk to him first.”

Igraine had the sudden urge to laugh
hysterically. As if she had even thought of talking to this beast!
She wondered which topic would be appropriate for a conversation
with a unicorn, especially if it was half dragon. The weather,
perhaps? But as frightening as the creature was, she was mesmerized
by its wild beauty. She stared at it …
him
with widened
eyes, unable to move.

“Aon,” Elathan called when the unicorn
stopped before them. He was much larger than a horse, the tall elf
just reaching to the creature’s flanks. To Igraine’s surprise the
prince bowed his head, greeting his friend.

The unicorn tilted his head to the side,
watching the elf for a while. Aon blinked, and thin, transparent
membranes slid up over his eyes, disappearing behind his lids.
Obviously they had protected his sensitive pupils from the heat of
the molten lava. Then he bowed, repeating Elathan’s gesture.

“I knew we would meet again, my Prince,” Aon
said. His voice sounded deep and clear. “Have you finally decided
that you want to know the course of your destiny?”

Elathan laughed. “You know that I prefer to
choose my own destiny, my friend. Is it not enough that you told my
father that he would die at the hands of his own son one day? He
never looked at me with the same eyes again.” He stretched out his
hand, slowly turning up his palm. “And yet my father’s blood does
not stain my hand, after all these years. Will you still claim that
your prediction was true?”

“Is that the reason why you went into exile,
young prince?” the unicorn asked. Igraine presumed that Aon must be
much older than Elathan, if he called him
young
, of all
things. “Were you afraid that I might be right, after all? Did you
deem it best to leave and choose eternal darkness over the company
of your people?”

Elathan did not answer. Igraine felt a surge
of pain ripping through her soul and instantly knew that it was not
her own, but his. The prince let his hand drop to his side and
nodded slightly to in her direction. “Look, unicorn. I brought a
surprise for you. This is the Lady Igraine. You will like each
other. She needs your old magic to protect her.” Then he raised his
head and stared directly into Aon’s eyes. “But be careful, dragon’s
son. If any harm should befall her, your horn will adorn the wall
of my bedchamber very soon.”

The unicorn’s laughter sounded like a golden
bell, echoing from the high walls of the cave. “As if you could
surprise me! I already sensed that this human is precious to you,
Sire. After all this time … A slave of pleasure, bonded in blood,
united in body and soul. I never thought I would see something like
this again.” Igraine shivered when Aon surveyed her with his slit
pupils, silently praying that he had already eaten.

When he slowly lowered his head, the horn
came threateningly near. Igraine felt Elathan’s body going rigid
beside her. His hand touched the hilt of his sword, ready to draw
it in the blink of an eye. But Aon touched her very gently with the
sharp tip on her chest, right over her heart. Igraine felt the
beast’s mind entering her, searching the very core of her being. At
last he seemed to have found what he had looking for.

“You have a pure heart, human,” his deep
voice whispered in her head. “Did you know that this is the only
bait you need to catch a unicorn? The same way you caught the
prince.” She heard him chuckle before he added, “But I feel that
you do not only desire him, mortal woman. You love him.”

There was no sense in lying to a unicorn with
clairvoyant powers, especially since it had decided to go for a
walk through her mind.

“Yes,” her thoughts whispered. “I will love
him forever, with all my heart. Even if he sends me away because he
takes another mate, someone who is more worthy of him. Even if he
kills me.” Her heart felt as if it would break, crying silent tears
in the darkest corners of her soul.
“So you would die for him, human?” the unicorn’s voice asked.

There was no hesitation in her answer. “Yes,”
she breathed, speaking it out aloud this time. She didn't notice
that Elathan had wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her
upright while the unicorn was speaking to her. He couldn’t hear
what Aon told Igraine, but he sensed her pain and threw a
reproachful glance to his mind-reading friend, letting him know
that the human woman was under his protection.

“Then I will show you the future, Igraine,”
Aon continued in her mind. “But are you ready to endure this
knowledge? You might not like what you see. And you will not change
the path of his destiny.”

“Show me,” Igraine answered. “I need to know
this.”

“Then open up to me.” She felt the unicorn’s
mind wander deeper into her soul, gaining even more power over her.
“But to understand Elathan’s future, you will have to see the past
first.”

There was no time to prepare herself for the
unicorn’s attack on her mind and senses. He shut out the world and
every other thought. The force of his old mind conquering her
thoughts was so overwhelming she could hardly bear it. So she tried
to concentrate on his powerful voice that conjured up scenes and
images before her inner eye, making her feel as if she was right
there, an invisible witness who could see and hear everything, but
was unable to touch anything.

“The queen died shortly after Elathan’s
birth,” Aon began. “King Bres was devastated by her loss, and his
heart was broken.” Igraine felt as if she was actually there, at
the elven court. She was standing in the great hall of a castle
before the king’s throne that was set on a dais, covered with
golden and silver leaves; she saw his cold, handsome face and his
empty eyes that stared into the distance, void of emotion. The
arrival of a noble visitor was announced. A delicate woman entered
the chamber and knelt gracefully down before the king. She was not
elf or human, but of another kind, reminding Igraine of the water
nymphs.

“You are right,” Aon told her, reading her
thoughts. “A woodland nymph, Breena. They are beautiful, but fickle
and cunning, using what they have to get their way.” Her beauty was
indeed otherworldly. She had midnight-black tresses almost reaching
down to her waist, tiny flowers braided in. Little winged fairies
played in her hair and arranged it neatly around her white
shoulders while the king rose from his throne to greet her,
enchanted by the nymph’s radiant smile when she looked up to the
dais. Igraine could see the sudden desire in his face while he
watched the nymph.

“Oh yes, he wanted her,” the unicorn said.
“And he made her his queen.”

For the first time Igraine saw the two elven
children standing beside the throne, partly hidden in the shadows –
a boy and a girl, both of them very pale, and dressed in matching
royal attire. Igraine gasped when she saw the nymph standing up and
staring at the children with infinite hatred in her eyes while the
king wasn’t watching. She was clearly telling them who would be
their mistress from now on.

The little girl demurely dropped her gaze and
retreated into the shadows, but the boy took a step forward,
bravely looking the woman, who was to be his new mother, in the
eyes. His face bore a stubborn, haughty expression. He boldly held
the nymph’s threatening stare with his amber eyes, proudly raising
his head. His face was young but strangely earnest, as if he had
grown up too soon.
I am royalty and your better,
all of his
demeanor told the nymph. She flinched before she finally turned
away, having lost the silent contest against a mere child. But she
would not forget the humiliation.

Igraine knew this child’s face. It was
Elathan. And he had just made himself a deadly enemy.

Before she could ask what would happen next,
the unicorn proceeded with his story. “If a nymph has once set her
mind on something, it is hardly possible to keep her from reaching
that goal. After Breena had been crowned queen, she soon bore the
king another son. She named him Ruadan, and the king gave him all
his attention. But Elathan, as the firstborn, was the true heir to
the throne of Fearann. Ever since he was old enough to understand,
Ruadan was told by his mother that he would be king one day.
Elathan was in their way, and he still is, even after he left court
and went into exile a long time ago. As long as he lives, no one
can dispute his right to be king one day.”

Another scene appeared, with two young elven
warriors training in an arena, both fighting with double swords
against each other. They wore only black trousers and boots, their
ivory skin glistened with sweat. One of them was Elathan, his face
not scarred yet, his briskly moving body thriving with youth and
strength. The other elf was his exact opposite; his long, ink black
hair and beautiful exotic features marked him as the nymph’s son.
He was lither than his older half-brother, smaller and not as
heavily muscled. But that also gave him the advantage of being
quick and more flexible; he whirled and twisted while Elathan
countered him with mighty strokes of his weapon, obviously the more
skilled swordsman.

Whenever Elathan turned away from his
brother, Igraine could see the blatant hatred in Ruadan’s eyes.
After a while his strength began to fade, staggering under
Elathan’s heavy blows. As Ruadan went down on his knees, his
brother stopped attacking him at once, pausing to give him the
chance to recover. At the same time Ruadan raised his right hand,
quickly stabbing Elathan’s side with the sword. Igraine cried out.
She remembered a long, puckered scar that distorted the prince’s
skin there. It must have taken him a long time to heal. She had
assumed that all the scars on the elf’s body were caused in battle
by his enemies, not by his own kind.

Ruadan had not even enough time to realize
that he had made a mistake. Elathan threw himself at him and
knocked him down to the ground with his weight, his deadly blade
pressed against the younger elf’s throat. “Now what will you do,
coward?” he hissed at him, his eyes blazing with fury. “Poison
me?”

Ruadan spat out. “That would be too easy for
you, brother. Your death is inevitable, it is only a matter of
time. Father already knows that you are secretly raising an army to
claim the throne for yourself. He is just thinking about how to
deal with a son who is a traitor.”

With one swift movement, Elathan pulled out a
dagger from under his belt and sliced open Ruadan’s cheek. The
wound was not deep but just enough to draw some blood, disfiguring
the younger prince with a scar that would always remind him of this
day.

“And this is how I deal with liars,
half-nymph. If I ever catch you repeating those words, it will be
your neck which is cut open the next time.” He held his sword
closer to Ruadan’s throat, making him choke. “You know very well
that I assembled my warriors
because I learned
that your own men had infiltrated the royal guard
. Now why
would you do that, I wonder? Methinks it is you who want to claim
the throne according to your dear mother’s fondest wish.”