Page 8
E lizabeth bent over the fire and stirred the ladle in the pot of soup she had prepared. Her father, animated by his day in the village, was regaling her with tales of the trades he had made. Distracted, she responded when he paused.
She wrapped a cloth around the hot handle of the pot and lifted it.
Carrying the pot to the cart, she placed it on the back before carefully scooping out the contents into two bowls.
The soup was a mixture of vegetables they had harvested along their journey.
She added a large piece of fresh bread her father had returned with as payment for some herbal medicine she had made.
The simple meal would help warm them against the frigid temperatures rolling in off the ocean.
The cart was both their transportation and their home.
Covered by a thick canvas that had been treated with bees wax and ash, it provided them protection against the rain and winds.
Sheaths of cloth, stuffed with moss, gave them a soft bed and the thick quilts her mother had made kept them snug at night.
Her father had fashioned built in storage along the inside that protected their few material goods and the items he traded.
A hidden compartment, cleverly added under the seat as a false bottom, hid the few coins they had and other personal valuables.
She studied the interior with a wave of regret.
The spot where she kept her satchel was empty.
In her haste to escape her embarrassing encounter, she had forgotten it.
“You are quiet tonight, Elizabeth. Did you not have a good day?” her father asked.
She picked up the bowl and a piece of the bread and carried it over to her father. He reached up from the stump he was sitting on and took it with a grateful smile. She returned to collect her dinner before retracing her steps and sitting across from him on a folding chair he had designed.
“It was nice,” she said.
She could feel her father’s eyes on her as she dipped the crust of her bread in her soup. A warm flush rose in her cheeks and she was thankful for the darkness. How did one tell their father that they had been kissed for the first time—by the king, no less?
“How long are we planning to stay here?” she asked.
Her father touched his handkerchief to his lips and lowered his bowl to his lap. She looked up when he cleared his throat. A frown creased her brow when she saw the troubled expression on his face.
“I was thinking it might be best if we leave early tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Why so soon? We’ve only just arrived. Surely you haven’t completed all of your business so soon?” she exclaimed.
Harold shook his head. “We’ve been gone longer than I planned and the glen is a long way away. It wouldn’t be smart to get caught in the middle of winter. The cottage will give us better protection and a chance to regroup before spring arrives,” he said.
Elizabeth lowered her bowl and studied him. She could always tell when he wasn’t being completely honest with her. His eyes would flitter from one place to another, and he couldn’t hold her gaze. Her expression softened when she noticed the pinched look of worry on his face.
“Tell me the truth,” she quietly pleaded.
Harold sighed and clutched his bowl between his hands. “Several humans came into the village today. They were from across the waters. They said that the shifters had declared war on the humans and were raiding their villages.”
“Do you think it is true?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I spoke to several shifters who came from the ships.
They said it was the humans who had started the war.
They are attacking shifters and trying to drive them away from the rich farm fields of the south.
The man was with his mate and children. If I had to believe either of them, I would believe the shifter.
The only thing I do know is they both spoke of war. ”
“Surely that can’t happen here. There has always been a truce between the humans and the shifters,” she said.
Her voice faded as she remembered several weeks back. They had met a group of humans who were recruiting young men to join them. She had heard little of the conversation as her father had warned her to hide in the back of the cart under the blankets.
A shiver of unease ran through her, and her thoughts turned to Or’Ang. Her heart ached to think he would turn against humans. She lifted her hand to touch her lips before she dropped it back to her lap. The memory of his kiss made her tremble.
“I don’t know. I would hope not, but we’ve met a few humans who are making noise. I would feel more comfortable if we return to the glen. There are many places where we can hide there,” he said.
Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed hard before nodding in agreement.
Her eyes were drawn to the faint glow, a beacon of light shimmering in the darkness, that marked the silhouette of the castle.
Even in the darkness, the castle exuded an aura of enchantment, its stone walls whispering secrets of ancient magic.
Or perhaps it is their king who is the magic, she thought with a wistful sigh.
“I’ll be ready,” she quietly replied.
“Surely you understand the danger that the humans present, Or’Ang?
My spies tell me that they've ravaged dozens of shifter villages to the south, leaving behind nothing but smoke and ash,” Lord Beasley said, his voice laced with grim determination.
“Your kingdom, with its whispered tales of might, alongside the fox shifters, known for our strategic brilliance, would create an unstoppable force. Not only would the humans fall, but other shifter clans would be left in awe, fearing the power of our combined might. You could become their rightful king. Just think, Or’Ang, your reign would stretch from the Atlantic to the Ural Mountains down to the tip of Africa.
With my beloved daughter by your side, and myself as your advisor, no one would dare to question your reign. ”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t,” Or’Ang dryly replied.
“Nor your death, which will come shortly after your marriage.”
“I would be the most powerful queen in the world. No one, not even father will stop me from claiming what should be mine. And the first thing I will do is order the extermination of all humans.”
The whispers in his guest’s mind were like a venomous serpent, slithering into Or’Ang’s own thoughts and filling him with disgust. The father and daughter sat calmly across from him, both with the same peaceful expression.
He couldn't help but notice how clearly the daughter resembled her father, a testament to the truth that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
He couldn't help but notice the delicate beauty of Fiona's face, her skin smooth and flawless.
Her auburn hair, the color of burnished copper, fell in alluring waves over her shoulder, a silken waterfall in the firelight.
The bodice of her gown, cinched in a way that only a skilled seamstress could achieve, drew attention to her full bosom, leaving just enough exposed to tempt and entice.
Her beauty would have been breathtaking, if he hadn't known the viper's venom that lay dormant in her gaze.
Fiona smiled at him with a glint of invitation in her dark brown eyes.
She purposely leaned in, the aroma of her cherry-scented perfume filling the air as she topped off his wineglass and sent him a knowing glance, her red lipstick gleaming under the candlelight.
He couldn't help but think of the dark, almost unnaturally red hue of her lips, a color that he associated with the blood of those who came before him.
The memory of another woman's lips, soft and unadorned, beckoning him with a silent invitation, surfaced in his mind.
The memory awakened a forgotten sensation, the feeling of youthful strength still coursing through his veins, defying the passage of time and reminding him of his enduring power.
He recoiled when Fiona's hand moved towards him.
“While I appreciate your kind offer, Lord Beasley, I must decline both your generous offer and your daughter's gracious proposal to aid my kingdom. A partnership with the fox shifters would be advantageous, but it's impossible,” he answered.
Lord Beasley frowned while Fiona’s face remained a carefully crafted mask of demur disinterest. Unfortunately, her thoughts were not as quiet. Leaning forward, he stealthily moved the small serving blade out of her reach while her father huffed and puffed in confusion.
“I don’t understand. You are searching for a bride, are you not?
My Fiona has had all the training of a gentlewoman.
She would make a wonderful wife and bear you many children.
My soldiers are among the best. Their skill at infiltrating behind enemy lines and attacking the heart of my enemies is renowned,” Lord Beasley defended.
“Thank you for that enlightenment. I will keep that in mind. As for your daughter being trained in all arts of a gentlewoman, I’m sure she exceeded all expectations. Alas, I have already found my future queen,” he said.
“Who is she?”
He lifted an eyebrow at Fiona. This was the first time that she had spoken out loud.
Her lips were pursed and her eyes were filled with icy rage.
He briefly wondered if he should warn her that such a look would cause wrinkles to form on her beautiful face if she wasn’t careful, before dismissing the thought.
“Her name is Elizabeth.” He rose from his chair, weary of dealing with their angry thoughts.
Polar, ever attuned to what was happening in the castle, stepped out of the darkness.
“As for the humans, they are under my protection. Whatever grievances there are between humans and shifters elsewhere, they are not an issue here. The kingdom of Or’Ang is a haven for any shifter or human seeking refuge.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have additional business I must attend to.
Polar will escort you to your rooms for the night.
I trust you will have a pleasant journey home tomorrow morning.
Forgive me if I’m unable to see you off. ”
‘How dare he dismiss us a though we are some lowly servants! This is an outrage and one he will live to regret.’
Or’Ang’s intense scrutiny locked onto Lord Beasley’s expression, the intensity of his stare apparent.
The shifter’s gaze, cold and sharp, made it clear that the threat was real, and he had no choice but to take it seriously.
He flicked a quick glance at Polar, who lowered his head slightly in a silent bow, confirming that he also had picked up on the shifter’s thoughts.
Extra guards, armed and vigilant, would be posted outside the man's rooms this evening, their presence a silent warning against any possible threat.
Lord Beasley’s threats made him cautious, but Fiona’s words were a different kind of danger, twisting his insides with a knot of unease.
A moment ago, a mask of cunning had slipped from her face, but now it was replaced with a serene expression of innocence, as though she were a child again, untainted by the world's deceit.
Her mind was filled with thoughts that were anything but virtuous.
She pictured herself gliding into his chambers under the cover of darkness, her movements silent and seductive.
Driven by a desire to secure his commitment, she hoped to become pregnant with his child, knowing that it would force him to marry her.
“For your safety, Polar will ensure that you remain in your rooms. I’m sure you understand. You can never be too careful,” he added.
His voice was clipped and held a note of finality to it. He turned and strode from the room as protests erupted behind him. By the time he reached his chambers, his thoughts were no longer on the deceitful fox shifters, but on Elizabeth.
He secured the heavy door to his chambers to ensure there would be no unwelcomed visitors and walked over to the stained-glass windows that looked out over the kingdom to the sea. She was out there, somewhere, and he would find her.
“Tomorrow, my queen. I will whisk you into my arms and show you the magic that you have dreamed of,” he vowed, lifting his hand to press it against the glass.
With a rueful smile, he turned away from the window.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep this night.
Instead, he picked up Elizabeth’s satchel and settled into the chair in front of the fireplace.
In the glow of the light, he pulled out the leather-bound journal, opened it, and once again was lost in the adventures of the human who would love an enchanted being for the man he was.