Page 12

Bracca

Killian had looked puzzled when I made the remark about the king not having seen him yet, but he hadn’t seen himself either. Killian had grown even more beautiful in just the short time since we’d been on the road here. Hell, he had grown more beautiful just since I left him minutes ago, and I hadn’t thought that possible. Apparently, it started as soon as he walked back into Daeneid, the city where he had been born. His glamour must have completely fallen away at last.

And that left only questions. Who exactly had his mother been to produce someone like Killian? His looks were more subtle and yet more beautiful, in my opinion than any Selkie or Mermaid. Some Selkies were almost that beautiful, but his teeth weren’t sharp like a sea creature, and he had no webbing anywhere. I could attest to that as I had been over every inch of him—quite thoroughly. He was better looking than any Fairy too, and he had a sweetness about him that other Fae creatures lacked.

I kept a tight grip on his arm, as we walked toward the large, richly furnished rooms inside the king’s palace. It was just the same as the interior of my father’s castle in some ways. Soldiers stood by the doors on the outside, and servants stood ready to escort us down a wide corridor made entirely of gleaming black granite. I’d been here years before, and it was just as impressive this time. The courtiers we passed on the way seemed fascinated by Killian and could hardly keep their eyes off him. I couldn’t blame them, but I still didn’t like it much.

He’d removed his hat and gloves, trustingly giving them to me when I held out my hand for them. But he was still wearing his ermine fur that he loved so much, and he left the coat casually unbuttoned. He tossed his long, beautiful hair casually back over his shoulders and I noticed that each and every council member’s eye turned to follow the movement. They all seemed to sit up straighter as we came in, their eyes alight with admiration.

I could see the king on his dais just ahead, looking regal and effortlessly handsome in his white and gold robes, with his jeweled crown banding his forehead. He looked weary, as if he’d already had a long day, and it was indeed getting on toward late afternoon by this time. I wasn’t intimidated by kings, as I was the son of a powerful one, but I could see that Killian was. I could almost hear the thoughts tumbling around in his head—should he even be taking his case before this king? And would Hendris be able to help him if he did?

He waited fretfully beside me for his audience in the corridor outside the king’s throne room, though it hadn’t taken all that long. They wouldn’t dare keep me waiting. When a courtier returned to take us in to see the king, Killian clutched my hand and held on tightly.

I had heard that the king allowed his subjects to come in to see him with their problems and requests, and it was a practice that had proven to be popular. I wondered what the populace would think about a new king and about one that was only part Elven? Rumor had it that Hendris always listened and tried his best to help solve the problems or grant the requests of his subjects, no matter how trivial they might be, so he was no doubt beloved by them.

He was extremely handsome too, with black hair, dark eyes and a trim figure. Not so much as Killian, of course, but I might have given some thought to casually flirting with him a bit except for one obstacle. The obstacle in question had my hand in a tight grip at the moment as we waited for the king to beckon us closer to the throne.

And what a throne it was—or perhaps used to be. It was quite large and made of wood but gilded with gold that was tarnished now and turning black, just like the gilded paneling on the walls of the chamber. There was a slight smell of mold, though bowls filled with sweet herbs were dotted around the room. Under the chair of the throne was a large panel of glass in a patterned window frame and within this glass sat the crystal known as the Blood Crystal. It was a huge chunk of Painite and supposed to be a vibrant, glittering red. Instead, it was muddy and dark, looking truly like old, dried blood. I’m sure it was my imagination, but it seemed to shudder to itself every few minutes, as if enduring some terrible pain. I knew it had been deteriorating steadily since King Brendan’s death six years ago, but I hadn’t realized it had gotten so bad.

King Hendris rose to his feet, his eyes widening as Killian and I came forward to meet him.

“Your Majesty,” I said, “allow me to introduce my husband, Royal Consort Killian. He doesn’t speak the Fae language, as he was raised by the English.”

The king couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Killian, and I didn’t blame him. Hendris stepped forward and held out his hand. Killian took it and bowed slightly over it before glancing up at him. “Your Majesty,” he said, “How very good of you to meet me.”

“And you, Your Highness. Your husband tells me you think there may be some familial relationship between us. Is that right?”

“That’s what I’ve been told, sir. I’ve been told that my mother was married to a member of your family.”

“Who might that be?” he asked.

“Your late ruler, King Brendan. I believe he was my father.”

Hendris’s eyes widened, and an exclamation ran around the room. “How extraordinary.”

He took a few moments to recover and then said, his manner noticeably colder, “I can see that you obviously have Fae blood. Not much elf in you, though.”

“Half,” I said, breaking in. “From his father’s side.”

Hendris glanced over at me sharply. “I see. Do you have any proof of what you say? My late uncle had only one son, but that child has been missing for many years.” His voice was chilly as he looked Killian up and down. “Surely, you’re not claiming…”

“He’s not ‘claiming’ anything. I’ve brought him here for you to be aware of him and who he is. He’s not asking anything of you.”

We glared at each other for a moment. Going by looks alone, it might be difficult to see that he was Brendan’s son, and he was right about Killian not looking particularly Elven. His ears were only very slightly pointed, and that had only really been since we’d arrived here. When I’d first met him, they were completely rounded like a human’s. He was frankly far too good-looking, and he had the green eyes of a Fairy, so that really didn’t help his case.

“Who was your mother supposed to be?”

“Her name was Ashlin, and I’m told she was once the wife of the late King Brendan. She left him for reasons as yet unknown to me, but I am their son. I haven’t seen my mother since I was about five years old, so my information on her is limited.”

“Yet you expect us to believe that you’re the son of Queen Ashlin and King Brendan.” Hendris’s tone had grown sharper. I took exception to that.

Gasps went around the chamber from the councilmen to the courtiers and servants as I stepped forward in anger and instinctively drew Killian slightly behind me.

“I understand your shock, Hendris, but I won’t have you speak to my consort in such a way. He’s only repeating what I found out about his parentage. He is King Brendan’s long-lost son. We believe King Brendan kidnapped his mother and held her captive for a few years. I’m sure you’re familiar with the story. She escaped, took her son and disappeared into the mortal realm twenty some years ago.”

“This is outrageous!” Hendris shouted, his voice loud as he jumped to his feet and began to pace in front of us. He leveled a look at his council, who were looking stunned.

“Surely, you don’t believe this drivel!” he shouted at them, and I took a step forward to get in his face. My hand was on my sword as I faced him.

“Be careful, Your Majesty. I’ve warned you once already that I won’t have my consort disrespected or spoken to in such a way.”

“You-you warned me! You arrogant young…” Two of his council members rushed forward and began whispering furiously in his ear. The guards, both his and mine, moved restlessly closer to us, their hands on their weapons too.

Hendris tried to jerk away from his advisors, but in the end, he subsided and nodded his head, though still looking furious. I was glaring back at him, my own blood high and ready to fight him here and now. I felt Killian’s hand on my arm, and it calmed me a little, but I wanted badly to run Hendris through with my sword.

Perhaps he saw it on my face, or perhaps my reputation and that of my father had preceded us, because he turned away quickly and sat back down on his blackened throne and seemed to be brooding for far too long.

Tension hung thick and heavy in the oppressive air of the throne room.

Finally, he spoke. “What proof do you have of what you say? Surely you don’t expect me to simply take your word for this.”

“Proof that Killian is Fae? Simply look at him.”

Everyone turned to stare at Killian as he shrank behind me.

“Proof that he’s Brendan’s lost son? None at all.”

The king started to smirk, and then I spoke again. “Except for his blood. If he’s the true-blood prince, he carries his proof around with him in his veins.” I gazed around the chamber with its blackening, deteriorating walls. “Your blood is obviously not working. Why not give his blood a try? That should prove that what we say is true.”

Two more of his council members came to Hendris’s side and all began murmuring and conferring with him. Finally, Hendris brushed them aside and got to his feet.

“Why are you really here? To try and take my throne? Do you honestly think my people would allow a damn Fairy to rule over their kingdom?”

“If Killian’s blood is true, then it’s he who should rule them, and he’s at least half Elf.”

“And you would simply stand aside and not interfere in any way? Do you think any of us believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe. I’m a prince in my own kingdom. A kingdom that’s far larger and far more powerful than this Elven kingdom ever thought to be, since you want to make this so personal. As for taking away your kingdom, you won’t have one much longer if it continues to rot away at this rate. Either step aside and let Killian try to save your Blood Throne…or don’t. It matters little to me. He’ll wear a crown regardless of what you decide to do or not to do—as will I. But decide quickly, because I refuse to stand here and be insulted a moment longer.”

****

Killian

I was shocked at how Bracca argued with this Elven king, and in his own throne room. He seemed to be without fear of anyone. But I was learning that Bracca made his own rules and did just as he pleased, whenever he pleased. He was bolder than I could ever be.

Almost all of what they were saying to each other was in the Fae language once they’d begun to argue, so I hadn’t understood it, though there was no mistaking the tone and their gestures. Hendris seemed by turns to be skeptical, outraged, and furious. But then so did Bracca. I stood quietly, letting the two powerful men argue and the words buzz around the room like bright, stinging insects. I knew some of their words were directed at me or about me, but I was helpless to do anything about it, much like I’d been since this whole thing started. I was simply a pawn to be moved around the board by the real players.

Finally, Bracca nodded at Hendris and then turned to me. “Show them that you’re related to King Brendan, Killian, and that you carry his blood in your veins. I have no idea what will happen so don’t get any closer than you have to. Hold out your wrist and allow a few drops of blood to fall. I’ll be beside you, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“We know about your own magic, Prince Bracca!” the king said, his voice raised and harsh. “Don’t touch him or the stone.”

“I have no need of my own magic.” He flipped the knife in his hand and held it out to me by the handle. “Go ahead, a chuisle . Show them.”

I nodded uncertainly. I was wondering—a little belatedly—how exactly this was supposed to work. Did they literally expect me to shed my blood?

It seemed as if they did, as they all stepped closer to watch me do it. I took a deep breath and pierced one of the little blue veins in my wrist with Bracca’s sharp knife. It stung badly and blood welled up from it immediately and began sliding off the side of my wrist.

One of the council members came rushing forward to pull open the glass panel, which fit over the front of the crystal with hinges. I didn’t much like the idea of sticking my hand in there, especially the way the stone was slightly pulsing, seeming to almost be alive, but I didn’t have a choice. The consensus seemed to be that a direct application of my blood would be best.

I held out my wrist so that the blood could drip onto the stone. It trickled slowly down and struck the crystal with a slight hissing sound as everyone around us seemed to hold their breath.

And nothing at all happened.

The king and all his council members were drawn around me avidly, peering at my blood falling on the stone. A soft sigh went up when nothing occurred. Bracca stepped up beside me and took my arm, pulling me away.

Behind us, King Hendris began shouting something, and Bracca shouted right back at him, a full-fledged argument suddenly breaking out right beside me. Both men had their hands on their weapons, and I thought bloodshed was imminent.

A sudden wave of dizziness swept over me as I stared down at the stone. Something cold washed over my body, and I swayed and stumbled backward, feeling disoriented. I sat down hard on the seat of the king’s blackened throne, thinking I would fall otherwise. My hands and feet tingled, and that strange, cold feeling took hold of me and wouldn’t let go. Maybe if I could rest there on the throne for just a moment, I could regain my balance. Suddenly there was a noise like a loud groaning sweeping over the room. It sounded for all the world like it had been made by the crystal itself.

A voice was whispering in my ear, saying strange words I didn’t understand. I covered my ears with my hands, but it didn’t help, because it was inside my head. Hendris came running toward me to pull me off the throne, but the moment he touched me, the stone screamed.

It was so loud and unexpected, I fell back against the seat and Hendris snatched his hand away. Bracca ran to my side and alarmed, I tried to jump to my feet, but Bracca pushed me back down and got in front of me with his sword raised. A bright red glow started pulsating from the stone and the glow was so strong it lit up the faces of the councilmen who fell back in surprise. The strange, inhuman screaming stopped, and the stone began to shoot out little bolts of light like Chinese fireworks that lit up the room. I jumped up again as the seat of the throne grew hot, and I lunged for Bracca, who caught me in his arms. He turned his back to the throne, shielding me with his body as sparks and those little bolts of light shot around the walls and bounced off the ceiling and floor. It only lasted a short time, maybe a full minute, but when the lights stopped flashing, we looked back to see the gold on the throne shining brightly again, with no traces of the black mold anywhere to be seen.

Bracca stood holding me in his arms for a moment longer, and then the most extraordinary thing happened. King Hendris himself came over to me and knelt down before me on one knee, his back stiff and tense, but his head lowered.

“Your Majesty,” he said, and the whole room erupted in loud cheers.