Bound to the Prince (32 page)

“Calatin,” she began. “He wasn't sure if you
would …” She fell silent, not knowing enough about elven manners to
express herself politely.

“Survive?” Elathan finished for her. “So
that’s why he left,” he murmured thoughtfully. “He is determined to
prevent Ruadan’s crowning ceremony, which will be at the next full
moon. It’s the only choice he has, even if I had died. If Ruadan is
not crowned king, Calatin is next in the line of succession.”

Igraine was speechless for a moment.
“Calatin?”

“Oh, didn’t he tell you? He is my first
cousin on my mother’s side. When he was a child, his family lived
in the palace, and we grew up as brothers would have. But after my
father married for the second time,” his voice sounded darker now,
“the new queen, Breena, wanted to make sure that her own son would
be the heir to the throne – in case I wouldn’t live long enough to
be king, which was her fondest wish. So she charmed the king, as is
the way of the nymphs, and convinced him that Calatin’s noble
father, Conall, was a traitor who wanted to dispossess him of his
crown and give it to his own infant son.

But there never was a public trial. Conall
was murdered in his sleep by an unknown assassin, and his wife
Lendabair, who luckily had slept in her small son’s chamber that
night, was wise enough to flee with him as soon as she heard of her
husband’s death. Unable to claim her family’s heritage, she married
a farmer and raised Calatin on her own, teaching him the magic ways
of his people and making sure he never forgot who was responsible
for his father’s death.”

“Breena,” Igraine whispered and felt Elathan
nod behind her. “But how did he come back to court?”

“He just appeared before the king one day,
openly introducing himself. Bres still believed that Conall had
been a traitor, but he never held sons responsible for the crimes
of their fathers, so he acknowledged Calatin as his nephew in front
of the whole court. Breena could not gainsay the king after that
public display of his goodwill. Calatin was a grown warrior who had
fully developed his magic abilities by then, so he was not an easy
target for her evil schemes anymore. I took him under my personal
protection and made him captain of my guard. He has proved himself
a loyal friend since that time. He saved my life many times, and I
did the same for him. Beside him, there is no one else in the
kingdom who owns my unconditional trust – that is, until I shared
my blood with you,
mo ghrá
.”

Igraine’s heart missed a beat when she heard
his praise but did not know a fitting answer. Instead, she took his
hand out of the water and placed a kissed on his wet palm. The
prince remained silent now. She was surprised when he took a bottle
with a flowery-smelling liquid from a small table beside the
bathtub, poured it into his hand and began to wash her hair.
Sighing, she laid back her head and enjoyed the feeling of his
fingers massaging her scalp.

Obviously liking his newfound duty of acting
as her maid, he rinsed her hair with a small bucket. After that, he
continued washing her back and shoulders, but soon directed his
attention to her front. She moaned when she felt his soapy hands on
her breasts that felt full and heavy in the warm water. He knew
exactly where and how she loved to be touched, but she was not sure
if this was due to their mental connection or to a very long life
of practising his skills as a lover. Probably both of it was true,
she decided, before she stopped thinking altogether.

He encircled her waist with his warrior’s
hands and lifted her out of the water, just enough to reach her
most intimate places. She felt his fingers lather her nether parts
with soap, rubbing it tenderly between the swollen folds before he
inserted a finger inside her. With a small scream of pleasure, she
grabbed the sides of the wooden tub, unsure if her legs would hold
her upright much longer. The prince proved himself to be an
exceptionally dutiful and thorough servant when it came to washing
her. In and out he went, again and again, not forgetting to remove
the soap efficiently with his wet fingers.

Just when she felt her climax approaching, he
removed his fingers from her and replaced them with his aroused
manhood. It went in smoothly, dripping wet and throbbing with
desire. Igraine cried out and pushed back against him, but he held
her hips and shoved her up and down very slowly, only occasionally
meeting her with thrusts of his own. “Careful, little human,” she
heard him whisper hoarsely behind her, “I have strained your body
enough for one night. We will not hurry this time.”

Her frustrated moan was to no avail, so she
just let him control her movements, gliding up and down easily on
his rigid shaft. Water slopped out of the sides of the tub. He
laughed when she wriggled her hips from side to side to rub against
his body, and placed his hand over her soft mound of flesh,
pressing it tenderly. His finger slid to the place where she needed
to be touched so badly, and she cried out when he circled her,
feeling it coming …

But the prince had other plans. Slowly but
with merciless resolve, he pulled himself out of her, ignoring her
angry curses. While he chuckled about her calling him a “damnable,
vain elf and ruthless villain” – no one in his long immortal life
had ever dared to speak to him in such a manner before - he swiftly
turned her around and placed her down on his staff so she faced him
now, straddling him. “Be quiet, human, and serve your prince,” he
said, grinning, before he wrapped the length of her hair around his
hand and pulled back her head. His kiss was fierce, his lips
ravishing hers until they swelled from his touch, his tongue taking
complete possession.

She felt how much he held back right now, so
she melted against him, kissing him back with all the longing she
felt for him. At the same time, she regained control and started to
glide up and down his length. Satisfied when he moaned into her
mouth, she began to circle with her hips while she rode him, adding
a delicious pressure to her hidden pearl. He held her close against
his chest and made her feel his wild heartbeat as her breasts
rubbed against his skin. She mimicked his earlier gesture by
grabbing a handful of his hair, too, making him her prisoner.
Triumphantly, she forced back his head until he looked into her
eyes. “Mine,” she whispered, “you are mine now, elf.”

Astonished for a moment, the prince seemed to
be very pleased by her words.
Is leatsa mé go brách
, she
heard his voice inside her mind, clearly as if he had spoken it out
loud, and for the first time she realized that their inner bond had
given her the ability to understand his elven language.
I am
yours, forever.
With boundless satisfaction in his eyes, he
started to increase the rhythm of their lovemaking, pushing himself
up into her sweet body over and over again. Shortly before the
flood took hold of him and carried him away, he heard her sobbing
completion as she still moved against him, not stopping until he
found his release inside her and abandoned himself to absolute
pleasure.

“I am yours, Igraine,” he said again, this
time a whisper into her ear.
Forever.
He held her tightly in
his arms and never let go when a barrier in her heart broke down
and she began to cry. Once she had started, she could not stop her
tears from running over her face, soaking his hair while she buried
her face in its softness. They were tears of love and pure joy, but
also tears for the years of her life that had been wasted, giving
unwanted love that was useless like a glass of spilled milk. And
finally, tears of regret, since there was so little time left to be
with the one she loved.

Forever would end all too soon.

They left the inn at the first light of dawn.
Eamon had provided them with everything they needed – fresh
clothes, food supplies and water. Elathan bought one of the
innkeeper’s best horses for Igraine, an elegant grey mare with kind
eyes. “Her name is Bébinn,” the landlord said while he fastened a
light saddle to the horse’s back. “It means …”

“Fair lady,” Igraine murmured. She repeated
the name, stroking the mare’s neck. “
Bay-vin
,” she
pronounced slowly, testing how the soft sound felt on her tongue.
Elathan looked at her, appreciating her newfound knowledge of the
elven language. “A most fitting name,” he said without taking his
eyes off her. Igraine had the faintest feeling that his compliment
wasn’t directed to the horse at all, and she felt heat rising in
her cheeks. Mounting the mare with Elathan’s help, it occurred to
her that she had never learned to ride, and she realized how much
she had loved being in the saddle with him, feeling his strong body
behind her. But as a long way still lay ahead of them, they would
be faster on two horses, the prince had told her. From the rueful
look he gave her while he handed her the reins, she knew that he
missed having her in his arms, too.

Outside of the inn’s magic circle, they
reached the burned grounds of the plain again. Elathan gave a short
command to the horses, and they broke into a fast gallop. Igraine
found that she knew how to ride after all. Instinctively she knew
how to steer the horse with her thighs as Elathan did. Probably
this was another skill she had gained from their blood bond. Her
unexpected abilities seemed to improve with every time they made
love. Even her body felt much better - younger, strong and healthy.
It seemed as if it was not only she who surrendered a part of
herself to the prince, he had also imparted gifts to her. For a
fleeting moment she wondered if she had also taken some of his
magic, but quickly dismissed the idea. This was ridiculous. She
didn’t feel as if she had supernatural powers, and she was human,
born without the capability to use the powers he seemed to draw out
of the earth so easily.

They rode the whole day, just resting now and
then to let the horses drink from a pond or a small stream. Eamon
had provided them with simple, but delicious food for their
journey. Igraine felt as she had never tasted anything as delicious
and aromatic as the dark bread, cheese, dried meat and fruit they
took from their saddle bags. The innkeeper had even thought of
packing a bottle of red wine. It smelled mouthwatering, like
berries and something else Igraine just couldn’t define, and just a
few sips made her feel dizzy.

Elathan seemed to be lost in his own thoughts
and didn’t talk much. Igraine wished she could sit in the saddle
with him again. Even when their horses went side by side, she still
wanted him closer. Her body ached for his touch, the warmth of his
breath on her hair. But now and then he shot her a glance, and his
face brightened as he smiled at her. Once he winked with a boyish
gleam in his eyes, and Igraine’s heart fluttered wildly in her
chest. Every time their eyes locked, a delightful shiver of wanting
ran through her. So this was what it felt like – being in love with
someone who returned that love. She embraced the happiness that
filled the empty space inside her soul, overflowing her like a
stream of sweet, warm honey, and she would bathe in the glorious
feeling as long as it lasted.

When the sun rose high, they reached an old
road and turned southwards, following it. The land was fertile,
with lush green valleys, woods and hills covered with trees and
bushes in full bloom. Colorful birds circled over their heads or
hid in the crowns of the trees, calling for their mates. There were
plants and flowers Igraine knew, but some of them were strange and
exotic-looking, and emanated a beguiling smell that made her head
swirl when she sniffed at them.

Elathan laughed at that, saying, “Be careful
where you stick your nose into, human. Some of those flowers will
lure you into a deep sleep if you inhale their scent for too long.
You might never wake up again, depending on which predator roams
these hills at night. And in some cases, plants with a preference
for meat have developed a natural connection to the hunters. One
paralyzes the prey, the other kills it and tears it into pieces,
then they share.” He grinned with elfish glee when Igraine gasped
and drew back from the beautiful purple flowers, backing off in the
direction of her mare. When they both re-mounted, she saw that the
prince was secretly chuckling to himself, so she surmised that his
warning hadn’t been totally honest. She narrowed her eyes and
stared at his back as if she could burn a hole into it, swearing
that the elf would pay for that later.

At nightfall Elathan made a fire for them and
went hunting for a while, bringing back a bird with bright blue
feathers. It looked similar to a pheasant, and it tasted heavenly,
roasted with dried herbs the thoughtful innkeeper had added to
their supplies. After the meal, Igraine was so tired her eyes fell
shut. Elathan cradled her up in his arms and wrapped his long,
hooded cloak around them both before he lay down with her at a safe
distance from the fire. Igraine was already asleep when he rested
his chin on her hair and closed his eyes, deeply breathing in her
sweet scent.

He was well aware of the strange mood that
had taken hold of her. There was no doubt about her love, but he
also felt her inner turmoil, the fear she managed to hide so well
from him. She embraced every moment of joy and pleasure in a way
that could only be described as desperate, or even greedy, as if
she wanted to hoard those feelings and keep them locked up
somewhere so they could never been taken away. Exhausted from the
long day on horseback, he drifted off but still then he could feel
her pain, her fear. The only reason he could think that would
account for it was that she feared losing him.

Abruptly he opened his eyes again. She still
had not confided in him what the unicorn told her. It was thinkable
that Aon had foreseen his death. What would become of her when
Ruadan succeeded in killing him? He would make Calatin promise to
care for her if he died in battle. But he would make sure that his
friend’s help wouldn’t be needed. Elathan did not intend to die so
easily and leave his people’s fate in the hands of his brother,
more specifically in the nymph’s. The prince’s heart beat faster
with anticipation of the sweet revenge he would take on them for
killing his father. Yet for now, he wanted nothing more than sleep,
with this wondrous human female in his arms, feeling her comforting
warmth, her complete trust. So soft.