Bound to the Prince (36 page)

A large shadow fell over the stone circle,
and even the elders couldn’t hide the expression of shock on their
faces when they looked up to the heavens. Silently innumerable
gargoyles tore through the air as they dived down, spreading their
black wings like giant, darkly elegant birds. Some of them carried
Igraine and the elven warriors, holding them like prey with their
long-taloned hands. Even the smaller ones seemed to be incredibly
strong, carrying the heavily muscled elves with ease.

Igraine landed first. The gargoyle chieftain
cautiously set her down in the middle of the elders, right on a
thick basalt block that served as an altar for them to pray to
their gods. And she herself looked more like a pagan goddess than
human pleasure slave right now. Her features looked almost elven
when she faced the council with a proudly raised chin, piercing
them with her otherworldly, silver eyes.

“I have come to claim my Prince,” she said
calmly, but her voice was deep and clear, and several of the elders
shuddered when they sensed the power that seared through her body.
“There will be no execution, for he is mine.” She turned her head
to Elathan, who still stood motionlessly beside the beheading
block. His face seemed to be carved in stone, resembling the rock
of the mountain palace behind him, now just faintly shimmering in
the moonlight. But his eyes shone with pride. “Sweet Igraine,” his
mind spoke to hers, “you are beautiful beyond words. Now that I’ve
seen that you don’t need my protection anymore, I will happily
die.”

“I love you,” she simply answered, astonished
how easy it was to unite their thoughts now. She felt strange ...
changed, but stronger than ever. “And I will always need you,
foolish elf. You won’t die, at least not today.”

“He is a traitor and his father’s murderer,”
Ruadan said, his handsome face distorted into a mask of fury. “The
only punishment for his hideous crime is death. The elders have
heard his confession. And who is this mortal woman, a mere
slave,
” he seemed to spit out the word, “to dare to speak in
front of this noble court?”

The gargoyle king left his place on one of
the trees, from whence he had been watching, and landed right on
the altar, crouching at Igraine’s side. “Oh, she isn’t mortal
anymore,” he said, his voice rumbling like thunder. “Gargoyle
poison affected her in a most peculiar way. We did not expect this,
for no human had survived our fangs before. When we discovered that
Elathan’s blood was flowing through her veins, we tried to save
her, but she didn’t even need our help. She changed before our
eyes, healing from inside. Doubtless she absorbed a part of the
prince’s magic when they shared their blood, not even knowing which
powers now were hers to command. But it was the poison that
accelerated the process of her transformation, making her immortal.
She can stilled be killed, of course. But by law, she can now no
longer be a slave of pleasure. Therefore, she should be addressed
as the prince’s …”

“Mate,” Elathan said, his voice raw with
emotion. “Lady Igraine is my mate, you all owe her fealty. She has
the right to be heard in front of this court.”

Igraine’s eyes widened when the elders, one
after another, bowed their heads to acknowledge her.

Calatin stepped forward, his shoulders
bloodstained from the gargoyle’s claws. “Ruadan, the honored elders
know as well as you and I that it wasn’t Elathan who killed the
king. He just agreed to confess because it was his only chance of
saving Lady Igraine. Therefore, I, Calatin, next in line to the
throne after Elathan, accuse you, Prince Ruadan, of being King
Bres’s murderer.”

Before the elders could even think about an
answer, Ruadan commanded his guards to attack. With an outcry of
rage, the trolls threw themselves on Elathan’s men, who were
already waiting for them with drawn swords and longbows. Though
much stronger, the trolls couldn’t cope with the elves’ natural
grace and speed. Slim, crooked swords hacked through the guards’
bodies, leaving behind a trail of severed limbs. The largest troll
who had come to behead Elathan went down to his furry knees, a
fountain of blood gurgling from the place where Calatin had cut his
head off in one single blow.

More guards, elves and trolls alike, emerged
from the inner castle yard, but the gargoyles rose up in the air
with delighted cries since the smell of blood had awakened their
hunger to kill. When Igraine saw what they did to their enemies
when they crossed the gates she averted her eyes, realizing how
lucky she was to stand here, alive, after having entered the city
of these dangerous creatures. But she couldn’t shut off the
terrible screams from her ears. Gathering all her courage, she
jumped down from the altar, drawing her own sword.

When a guard came out of the fighting crowd
and headed for her with a bloody spear, she acted instinctively.
She raised her right hand, palm outwards, and struck him down with
a blazing shot of energy, making the troll go down in flames.
Despite herself, she liked the feeling of power her new abilities
gave her, and she threw a glance at Elathan, curious to know if he
had seen her using his magic fire.

The fighting elves moved almost too quick for
her eyes when everything happened at once – Ruadan attacked his
older half-brother with death in his eyes, Elathan – freed from the
iron chains around his wrists and legs by Calatin’s magic – grabbed
his sword from the lifeless hand of the beheaded troll and ran it
deep into Ruadan’s side. When he retracted it, light red blood
gushed from the wound, but the half-nymph’s hatred ran so deep that
he didn’t seem to realize the pain. Cursing, he swung his own
sword, heading right for Elathan’s throat. Igraine cried out in a
feeble attempt to warn her beloved, yet it was already too late to
save him from the deadly blow that would fulfill his destiny.

“No!” she screamed, running in his direction.
This wasn’t right. The unicorn had said that she could choose, that
she could die in his place, a fate she had willingly accepted. But
she could not see him fall, nor live with this gaping hole in her
soul which his death would leave behind, would make her wish before
long that it had been her blood drenching the soft green grass
surrounding the holy stones this day.

When she saw Elathan quickly ducking under
Ruadan’s sword and jumping through the air to drive his blade a
second time through the younger elf’s guts, making him go down to
his knees, she knew she had been wrong after all.

Ruadan wasn't the one whom the fates had
chosen to kill Elathan. Unnoticed, Breena had taken the prince’s
dagger, carelessly thrown to the ground by the fleeing servant, and
sneaked up behind him, raising the Saighneán with both hands. She
didn‘t spare a single glance for her dying son, her eyes aflame
with hate while she aimed directly at Elathan’s heart.

Igraine threw herself against Elathan’s broad
shoulder with her whole weight. She shoved him aside just far
enough to let Breena’s blow go astray.
I will decide who will
die today, nymph,
was Igraine's last thought. Taken by
surprise, the prince whirled around, raising his hand to protect
his mate from the deadly blade that was aimed at her heart now
instead of his own.

Time froze. Darkness came.

When Elathan opened his eyes, he was not in
the stone circle anymore, trying to save Igraine from the nymph’s
lethal attack. He blinked, but all he saw was a place that could
have only been born from a dream. Instantly he raised his sword,
cursing the dark magic that seemed to have clouded his mind while
he was defending all he loved. But there was no one left to fight.
He was alone, surrounded by the deep emerald green of conifer trees
that grew high up in the mountains. The silence stunned him,
replacing battle cries and groaning sounds of pain wrung from the
chests of dying trolls and elves.

Instead, the soft gurgling of water mocked
his ears, and when he turned around he saw a well. The water came
out of a dark cave that seemed to lead right into the bowels of the
mountain, ran down a small cliff and gathered in a natural cistern
that was shaded by hazels, each of them bearing thick, crimson
fruit. A dense fog rose from the gaping hole, making it hard to
estimate its depth, but when he stepped nearer he heard splashing
sounds, not far below.

“Salmon,” a female voice said right into his
ear. “They jump to catch the nuts when they fall into the water.
Whoever eats of these hazels, is said to gain all the wisdom of the
world.” The prince turned his head, astonished that someone had
managed to sneak up to him without alerting his keen senses. He
caught his breath when he saw the woman standing at his side. She
was lovelier than any creature he had ever seen, her perfect,
long-limbed body naked except for a few tendrils of ivy entwined
around her waist, crawling up one of her white arms, over her
shoulder and down between her high, full breasts. Her hair, golden
but shimmering with all the colors of a rainbow when she moved,
swept around her, falling down almost to her knees. Her smile
radiated love, and he shivered with delight when her cool fingers
caressed his cheek. “Welcome, child,” she said.

The prince respectfully averted his eyes and
kneeled down on the ground before her dainty feet. “Great Mother,”
he whispered, bowing his head. “River Goddess. Where am I?”

A wisp of laughter pearled from Boand’s lips.
“Right at the beginning,” she answered, while she gestured to the
well with a graceful movement of her hand. “I have brought you here
to choose.”

When the prince remained silent, she
continued, “Your decision will not only affect your own fate, but
that of many. Igraine has willingly taken your place. She is
destined to die in order to save you, though your people will
thrive and live in peace as long as you are king. What will become
of them if you fall, noble prince?”

This time Elathan avoided her gaze to hide
the pain in his eyes. “No,” he said hoarsely. “I cannot allow her
to die. She is a part of me now. Take my life, Great Mother, but
spare her.”

She laughed. “It is not my prerogative to
give or take life. I can only show you the path, one way or the
other. No, it will be your choice alone, my Prince. But it won’t be
necessary to sacrifice yourself.”

“Then what is the price?” Elathan said,
daring to look into her terrifyingly beautiful face for a moment.
“There is always a price to pay.”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, nothing much. Just
your hand.
Saighnéan
will demand blood, either Igraine’s or
yours.”

“I will lose a hand then? A fair price for
her life."

“But it also means that in the eyes of your
people, you will be deemed ineligible for the throne. The Fae will
not accept a king who is not whole. You’d be an outcast for all
eternity.”

He nodded. “So it will be Igraine’s life or
my crown.”

“Yes, child. Now tell me - what is your
choice?”

“I want her to live.”

“Have you considered what your decision could
possibly mean for your people? You are destined to be a great king.
They need you.”

“Not as much as I need her. Eternity will be
worthless without her by my side. How good could a king be with a
part of his soul missing, never to be reunited with his true mate?
Calatin will reign in my place, and I know he will take good care
of my people.”

“So you have made your choice,” Boand said,
starting to walk around the edges of the well, gracefully brushing
the leaves of the hazels with her hand while she moved in a
counter-clockwise circle. “A prince gives up his crown for a mere
human.” He heard her giggling like a girl while her slender form
disappeared behind one of the trees. “I must admit that I like it.
You choose life over death. Sometimes the obviously wrong decision
will lead to something good in the end.

“Look at me, child. I am forbidden to
approach this well, yet I am here. I might pay a price for it, too,
but on the other hand, new life might spring from those waters. As
long as there is change, there will be life.” She circled the
cistern a second time, then a third time, humming a merry song to
herself. When she stood, she turned to Elathan, measuring him with
her dark, fathomless eyes for a moment. “Farewell, my Prince,” she
said. Then all hell broke loose.

With a thundering noise from deep inside the
mountain, the well split and left a wide crack in the earth. The
waters gushed from it with incredible force. A giant wave swept
over the gaping hole that was left of the peaceful well, carrying
stones, fish and the remains of the magic hazels, their precious
nuts lost forever. Elathan reached out for Boand's hand, but she
was carried away by the flood that eventually would become a mighty
river, rushing along the lands to join the sea. Her glorious hair
flowed on the surface for a moment before she dove deep down and
was never seen again. The prince jumped in after her, frantically
searching the water until another wave hit him, too. For a while he
fought against the streams that threatened to rip him apart, but
finally, he gave up and spread his arms, sinking deeper until he
found himself drenched in darkness once more.

* * * * *

The prince found himself back in his own time
and place. All that had happened in an instant.
Flash of
Lightning
cut into his right arm, just above the wrist, and his
hand, skin, flesh and bone was severed from his body so smoothly he
didn’t even feel pain at first. All that mattered was the fact that
he had lessened the impact of the blade, which gave Igraine the
opportunity to roll to her side; and the dagger grazed her shoulder
instead of piercing her heart. With an outcry of rage, she pulled
the knife out and jumped up, standing protectively over her prince.
Elathan had fallen down to his knees, pressing his wounded arm to
his chest. His armor was soaked in blood, the crimson stain rapidly
growing larger. She let the
Saighnéan
sink deep into
Breena’s abdomen and watched the nymph break down, blood sputtering
from her lips. “No,” she breathed, her hateful stare resting on the
prince, not Igraine. “The throne is mine. My son will kill you
both.”