Bound to the Prince (27 page)

“I would be careful if I were you, pretty
boy,” Elathan growled, pointing his sword at the copper-haired elf.
“Lady Igraine is mine. If you dare to touch her, I’ll use this to
adorn your handsome face with some carvings. It would be such a
shame if the ladies at court refused to seek out the dubious honor
of your company anymore.”

Calatin didn’t seem too impressed by this
threat. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed, exposing a
line of even white teeth.

“I am relieved you haven’t changed at all,
Elathan,” he said.

Amazed, Igraine gazed at the prince. Knowing
Elathan, she expected him at any moment to kill this impertinent
elf who spoke to him in such a disrespectful manner. But her lover
surprised her with a mischievous grin. Only an instant later, he
jumped down from the tree like a cat, walked up to Calatin and
crushed him in his strong embrace until he was dripping with
wetness, too. The handsome elf didn’t appear to be very amused
about the water stains on his armor. The smile wiped from his face,
he looked down at himself, frowning.

Elathan stepped away from him, roaring with
laughter.

“You haven’t changed either, my friend,” he
said. “But it is good to see you again. Now tell me, what has
brought you here? Surely you didn't leave behind all those maidens
pining for you just to join me for dinner.”

The handsome elf paled visibly, and he
dropped down to one knee before his prince, lowering his head. When
he lifted his eyes to Elathan, they were earnest and full of
sadness.

“Forgive me, Sire, for I do not bring good
news. Your noble father, King Bres, is dead.” He waited, but when
Elathan didn't move or speak, he continued, “There is no doubt that
your brother Ruadan is responsible for his death. He has already
acceded to the throne. My Prince, you have to return to court
immediately and reclaim what is rightfully yours.”

Far away, in an ancient elven stronghold,
another prince awoke from his dreams, terrified. He sat up abruptly
under his silken sheets and wiped away the cold sweat from his
brow. His ragged breathing was the only sound in the large chamber.
For a moment it felt like someone watched him from the shadows that
shrouded the marble walls in darkness. Soft, cruel voices began to
whisper to him, a single, condemning word that pained him like a
dagger plunged deep into his heart, the truth of it frightening him
more than any real threat could ever have.

“
Murderer,
” the voices called him
tenderly.

The huge fireplace set on the opposite wall
didn't seem sufficient enough to warm him any longer. His smooth
white skin felt cold like ice now, lifeless. Shivering, the prince
hugged himself, but there was no warmth left in him at all.
“Father,” he said into the darkness, “forgive me.”

Yet he knew that he had done the right thing.
The king had grown old and weak, it had been the only choice for
him. His death had been long overdue, and Bres had secretly wished
for it. Breena, his mother had said so. And mother was always
right.

Night after night, she had come to his room
and taken his head into her lap as if he was still a child, gently
stroking his hair. While he relaxed and closed his eyes, she
whispered forbidden words to him with her beautiful, melodic voice.
Words that could condemn them both to death if they were overheard
by someone, words that meant high treason. He knew that nymphs had
magical voices to enchant any male, but he didn’t bother. It felt
too good to be with her. No other woman could compare to her beauty
and grace. Oh, he had his share of castle maids and concubines, but
none of them had a hold over his heart. Once he had them – maybe
twice, if they were well-accomplished in the art of love -, he lost
all interest in them.

My husband the king is very old. His time
will be over soon,” she used to whisper into his ear. “You are
young and strong, my son, born to lead. Your people need guidance
now if they are to survive in these ever-changing times. The
mortals’ world is taking over more and more of our lands. We’ll
have to fight them back one day if we don't want to suffer the same
fate as so many of our kind – simply fade away, disappear into the
impermeable mists of the underworld while they forget that we ever
even existed. Do you wish this to be our fate?" When she saw her
son close his eyes in horror, she continued, “The king knows that
one of his sons has to end his life one day, either you or Elathan.
The one who is brave enough to fulfill the deed will rise to power.
Bres has been awaiting his death for a very long time. He even
embraces it and will be thankful for a son who has the courage to
take fate into his own hands. It is the way of things. If an
immortal sovereign has lost his ability to protect his people, to
guide them into eternal freedom, he must be replaced. And the only
way for him to die honorably is either on the battlefield or by the
hand of his own kin – his heir whose blood is as noble as his
own.”

“But
he
is the heir,” Ruadan answered
darkly without opening his eyes. “Elathan.” He struggled to speak
out the name of the brother he had learned to hate from his
earliest childhood. “Even if he is a traitor, gathering an army to
claim the throne for himself. And what is worst, Bres still loves
him. He always loved him more than me, more than even you, his own
wife.”

“You speak the truth, my son,” Breena
answered calmly. Only for a short moment, a boundless hatred glowed
up in her lovely eyes. It was a side she only showed to her son. At
court or in presence of the king she thought it wise to keep up a
meek and feminine appearance. Ruadan felt a sudden coldness
spreading in his chest. He knew that his fate was already sealed
when she drew out a dagger from a hidden pocket in her wide,
flowing skirts.

Ruadan sat up and stared at the sleek,
elegant weapon. Its hilt was encrusted with runes, and a large,
oval emerald was embedded at the top. It was so rare and precious
that it could only have belonged to royalty. Everyone at court knew
this weapon. It was known to never miss its mark.

“
Saighneán
,” he hissed. Flash of
lightning. The dagger’s true owner had given it a fitting name.
“This is Elathan’s dagger.”

Breena smiled sweetly. “I know.”

“But it’s not possible. The king closed up
Elathan’s chambers when he went into exile, and he used his magic
to seal all the doors and windows so no one could enter until his
beloved son one day chose to return. Your own magic would never be
strong enough to break this spell, mother. Only the king or Elathan
himself could enter his chambers. Tell me how you did this.”

The nymph started to play with the weapon in
her hand, turning the blade in a beam of moonlight that fell
through the arched windows. It gleamed in the pale light, as
beautiful and merciless as the prince who owned it. The dagger held
a magic of its own. It had been made by elven armorers ages ago, as
the king’s present to his newborn son. The silver had been brought
down from the giants’ mines in the northern mountains. The dagger's
blade had been folded countless times in the fires in the caves
under the castle, until it was sharp enough to cut through skin and
bone smoothly. If you killed someone with
Saighneán
, he
would die so quickly that he wouldn't feel any pain. At least that
was what the storytellers said. In truth, no one who ever had ever
threatened the prince and felt his dagger’s deadly kiss lived long
enough to tell.

“It was not easy,” she said so softly that
only Ruadan could hear it. “I hid and watched for many years during
the rare cleaning days when the servants were allowed to enter
Elathan’s chambers. The king supervises them personally, and one
day I realized that he was always standing at the same place, with
his back to the wall with the large tapestry. He only left when the
last of the servants was gone, sealing the door behind him.”

Ruadan’s eyes widened. “He tried to hide
something?”

“Oh yes. An entrance, to a secret corridor
that leads directly to the king’s own chambers and down to the
bowels of the mountain under the castle. Bres can’t close it up
forever because it is resistant to all kinds of magic so no enemy
could ever keep a member of the royal family imprisoned and hinder
them from leaving the castle during a siege. He himself ordered the
goblins to build it long ago, and they promised to keep the secret.
But there have been rumors among the servants, I heard them
whispering at night or knocking against the walls, seeking for the
forgotten doors in the castle. Maybe they hope they will find
Bres’s hidden treasure chamber. But the king has protected them
with magic. The entrances to the tunnels are very hard to find,
even for a sorcerer. I tried to entice Bres into telling me his
secret many times, but he always resisted my charms and did not
speak, not even in bed.”

She grinned wickedly when she saw anger
flaming up in her son’s eyes. She knew that Ruadan wanted to keep
her to himself, and he didn’t like to share her attentions. His
jealousy would serve her well to persuade him into succumbing to
her will this time.

“I sent my wood fairies out every night to
look for the doors. They have a sense of knowing places where old
magic was used, even ages ago. It was only yesterday when, with
their help, I finally found one of the side entrances in a
seldom-used corridor near the kitchens. I was lucky. The king’s
spell only hides the doors so they are invisible, but obviously he
did not find it necessary to seal them or I would never have been
able to enter. I had to search for a while, for the tunnels lead in
many directions, but I made my way to Elathan’s chambers. The
opening was located directly behind the tapestry, just as I
thought. At first, I did not know exactly for what I was looking,
the idea had just grazed the edges of my mind like the wings of a
butterfly. But then I found this on the table beside the bed …,”
she retrieved the dagger from the moonlight and gave it to her son,
cautiously placing it into his open palm, “and I instantly knew
what to do with it. Elathan didn’t even care to hide the dagger. I
wonder why he did not take it with him when he went into
exile.”

“I know,” Ruadan answered darkly. “Our noble
prince did not deem himself worthy of keeping the
Saighneán
any longer, now that he thought Bres believed him to be a traitor –
just as I told him.”

“And you did well in lying to him, my son.
Pride and his foolish sense of honor are his true weaknesses. Had
he not truly accepted in his heart that he had lost his father’s
trust, Elathan would never have gone away, knowing he left Bres
without his protection.”

“Without protection?” Ruadan mused. “Oh, I
doubt that. He is too damned honorable. I am sure that he still has
spies here, watching my every move so I won’t harm the king. The
prince will come back as soon as the old man is dead, trying to rob
me of my right to the throne. And he will try to kill me.”

Breena caressed his hand, her soft fingertip
circling around the dagger. She smiled when she heard her son’s
sharp intake of breath. He wanted her, as any man wanted a woman,
although he had never crossed the line. She used her knowledge to
play with him from time to time, just as she did with every male
who crossed her path, just enough to keep him from straying too far
away from her side. Nurses had raised him; she only had visited his
chambers from time to time or allowed him to watch from a balcony
when she held court with the king, a boy who adored her
otherworldly beauty, which captivated all who lay eyes on her. The
fact that he chose elven maidens who resembled her for his bed
sports had not escaped her keen attention, but she would make sure
that not one of them rivaled her and robbed her of Ruadan’s
undivided attention.

Indeed, no elven woman could cope with the
charms of a nymph, but some of them had been too beautiful, maybe
too entertaining and quick-minded for her taste, and they had
visited her son’s chambers a few times too often. She got rid of
them before they could become more to him than someone he used for
a night of pleasure, to relieve his stress and anger. Often they
left his chambers covered with bite-marks and bruises, but even a
half-nymph knew how to satisfy any female beyond her wildest dreams
so they came back even if he didn’t order them to do so. A drop of
poison in a glass of warm, spiced milk on their bedside table,
brought by her loyal maid who claimed to be sent by Ruadan, usually
solved the problem. The bodies were gone before Ruadan even asked
why his lover had left the castle so unexpectedly.

Luckily, his tastes in women were simple, so
he mostly chose among the army of maids serving in the castle. No
one asked for them if those girls disappeared, and if they did,
Breena knew how to silence them with gold or more drastic measures
if they didn’t give up so easily. She knew that her son was not to
be fooled, so if he pressed her with questions, she admitted
grudgingly that she had paid them to leave the castle, claiming to
be jealous. It always brightened Ruadan’s mood, and he was content
with her explanation because it complimented his male ego. But she
never would have told him the truth. He believed her to be perfect,
not to be equaled by any other woman, and she would not tell him
anything that convinced him otherwise.

“If Elathan really intends to kill you, we
will be prepared,” she continued, running her fingers upside his
arm until she felt him shiver with desire. “Soon he will be as dead
as his useless father. Do not forget that it will be his dagger
that killed Bres, a weapon kept in magically sealed rooms only
Elathan could have entered. At last, they will see him as the
traitor he is, always was. No one will ever dare steal the right to
the throne from you again, beloved son. You will be king.”