Page 9

Killian

I was still reeling from our conversation when we entered the king’s hall to dine. How could I not be? I’d just been informed that I was not human, and that I was the son of an Elf King. Nobody seemed to know what my mother was, but she had apparently stolen me from my father as a baby and taken me away with her. It was insanity, and far too much to take in all at once.

In a way, I was almost glad, though, because it kept me from dwelling on Bracca and his marriage proposal—if I could call that cross between a seduction and having my arm twisted an actual proposal.

The room was large, with stone walls covered in huge, faded tapestries. It had a cavernous ceiling and a long wooden table heaped with fine china, silver and crystal running down its length. Candles glittered and sputtered on the table and in the sconces on the walls. Seated around the table were four hard-faced men, all handsome and regal. I assumed they were the king’s council though no one introduced me. They all stood as we came in, though, along with a lady seated on the left of the king. All were drinking blood red wine from their crystal goblets. King Larek himself glared at me and made no effort to stand.

Larek was dressed all in black, and it accentuated his eyes and fair hair. I noticed again how handsome he was, but also how frigidly cold. His hair hung down to his waist and flowed across his shoulders dramatically. He looked nothing like his son.

A fierce warrior king, Larek embodied the many terrible, hard to believe legends about him. Some said he had demon blood—vampire, to be exact. According to one story, King Larek had been literally killed in battle many years ago. He had been slaughtered by a battle axe in a fierce fight with the king of the dark Elves. There had been numerous witnesses to the event, and though it had happened more than a hundred years ago, it was still talked about only in whispers. It had taken place on the blood-drenched ground inside the Liminal somewhere in the far north. The battle had seen enormous losses on both sides, with the Dark Fairies being declared the winner at the end of it.

King Larek had been seen by many witnesses to receive fatal wounds that should have been impossible to survive, yet he had somehow managed to stand back up on his feet from the bloody ground and take up his sword again. At the end of the battle, he climbed back on his horse unaided and rode back to his territory to reign over his people for another hundred years. He was still apparently going strong.

Apparently, the only way for a vampire to die was by having his head completely severed. Or by burning him to ashes in a fire. He wasn’t fully vampire, but he must have been close enough.

The chair to his right was vacant and waiting for Bracca, no doubt. No accommodation had been made for me, so I took an empty chair on the end, next to one of the men who I assumed made up Larek’s council. I saw Bracca glance over at the beautiful Fairy woman and give her a nod as we sat down.

“You brought the boy, I see.” Larek said without preamble and without any greeting.

“Of course. He’s my intended consort now. Not to mention he’ll be the new Elf king. I thought the council needed to meet him.”

Larek grunted and murmured something I didn’t catch. Bracca frowned at what he said, though, and glanced over at the Elven woman.

“Fiona, it’s nice to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m well, my love. Though it seems my services are no longer needed. His Majesty had me here in case your boy balked at marrying you and sleeping with a male. Mortals don’t always do that, you know. At least not publicly. If he hadn’t agreed to try with you, I was to be pressed into service.”

“From what I understand,” I said, interrupting them and looking first at her and then around the table at the others pointedly. They looked as surprised as if a piece of the furniture had spoken up. “I’m not mortal, and I outrank Prince Bracca, along with everyone else at this table, except for the king, so I don’t think you should call me his ‘boy.’ In fact, I believe you should address me by the title, ‘Your Majesty,’ as I am supposed to be the true king of the Dokkalfar kingdom.”

She flushed and gave me a poisonous look, though she quickly tried to hide it by dropping her eyes respectfully.

“Of course. Your Majesty, then…I-I meant no offense.”

Larek was frowning at me. “Bracca has informed you of our plans?”

“Yes. He told me he wished to marry me so he can control my kingdom.”

The king raised an eyebrow. “ Your kingdom?” He gave a short laugh. “Very well, then. Are you saying you don’t object?”

I stared back at him coldly. I was surprised to find I didn’t fear him. What was he going to do to me? Take my face and my name and my whole life away? Wait—he’d already done that.

“Would it matter if I did object?”

Bracca shook his head. “Stop it, Killian. Don’t make the king lose his temper.” He turned then to his father and smiled in a conciliatory way. “I’m sorry, sire, but Killian is fatigued from our journey, so please excuse him. He doesn’t object to the marriage at all, and that’s why we’re here. To discuss a date. I want this done as soon as possible. As early as tomorrow, if you’re agreeable.”

I gave Bracca a sharp look, but didn’t say anything and Larek nodded.

“Is this true?” he asked, looking straight at me.

“Which part?” I replied and he frowned.

“Have you agreed to marry my son?” Each syllable snapped sharply from his mouth like an icicle breaking.

“I wasn’t aware I had much choice.”

“He agrees,” Bracca said, ignoring me.

The king glanced over at Bracca and then back at me. “Very well then. I’ll make the announcement.”

I stood up abruptly on trembling knees, putting down my napkin carefully. “Now that’s settled, I believe I’ll go back to my room and rest for a while. I find I’m still very tired, and I don’t have much appetite. I’ll have the servants bring me a tray later if I get hungry.”

“No, you won’t,” Bracca said. “Sit down.” His tone wasn’t quite as cold as his father’s, but it was chilling, nonetheless.

“I hope you’ll excuse me instead, Bracca. I think I need some time alone. Please—you stay here with your father and your friends. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about. Allow me to go to my room.”

“I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

“But I’d rather not.”

Larek spoke up. “Oh, let him go, Bracca. He doesn’t need to be here for our meeting.”

Bracca stared at me and then made a dismissive, disgusted gesture, waving me off. “Go on then. Suit yourself.”

I gave a short bow to the king. It was as little as I dared. “Your Majesty” I said, not disrespecting him as he’d done me. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the ceremony.”

I didn’t wait for an answer but turned on my heel and began making my way toward the door, leaving the hall silent behind me. I could practically feel the coldness surging toward me from behind to envelop me, and I could have sworn I felt a wave of anger and outrage coming directly from King Larek.

He had expected a weak human boy. One he could mold into whatever he wanted me to be, but I think I hadn’t fit his expectations entirely. I made myself keep walking down that long, glittering room to reach the door, hoping my legs wouldn’t be visibly trembling when I finally reached it, and the guards swung it wide to swallow me whole.

****

Bracca didn’t come to my room anymore that night. I thought he’d come by to berate me, but he never showed up at all, and I wondered if he’d spent the night with the lovely Fairy woman, Fiona. The one who was ready to do her duty for the king and marry me. I wondered how she expected to sleep with me and still have Bracca. Did she want us both in her bed? The idea made jealousy burn through me, as I supposed it was meant to. One day I’d like to make Fiona burn with the same feeling if I could. Bracca too, for that matter.

The servants brought me food, and I ate alone in front of the fireplace. I wondered if Bracca was punishing me by not coming by, after my little performance of the evening before. Since I had nothing better to do after I ate, I spent the morning brooding and staring out the window. From this vantage point, I could see a small piece of the ocean far below. It was a dark, stormy patch of gray, churning with whitecaps. Could my mother possibly be one of the creatures who made their home in that sea? Could that be how she met my father?

I’d thought of her as dead for so long, but what if she were still alive? If she were Fae, she would be immortal, after all. I’d have liked to see her again, if that were possible, though I didn’t know why. She obviously hadn’t cared all that much about me.

After another meal at midday spent alone, with no word at all from the man who said he was marrying me that evening, I decided I needed to get some fresh air.

I pulled on the heaviest of my fur coats—this one was gorgeous black ermine, with a matching hat, scarf and gloves. These items had just appeared in my wardrobe, along with all the other clothing. I already had on my fur-lined boots, so I was ready as I could ever be for the terrible cold outside, I went out in the corridor, found the stairs and began climbing up.

I’d seen the parapet that went around the top of the castle as we rode in a couple of nights before, and I thought there must surely be a walkway along the ramparts. I thought it might have good views of the sea. I wanted to find out, anyway.

I kept climbing upward until I reached one of the round turret towers on the corners of the castle, and to my surprise its door opened easily. I went in and travelled up the circular stairs all the way up, stopping now and again to gaze out the small, slitted windows. Finally, I reached the top and the heavy, barred door that led to the outside. I put my shoulder to it, and it opened a little, though I had to push hard against the snow that had accumulated against the bottom. I opened it enough to slip through and stepped out into a windy, wickedly cold day. It occurred to me that I had no idea what month it was here, or if indeed they even had months. Surely, they did, since they acknowledged Solstices.

The sun I’d seen shining dully earlier that morning had already passed behind some of the sullen clouds, and a strong wind had kicked up. Still, I was warm enough in my furs, so I walked over to the edge and looked toward where I thought the west might be in order to see the ocean.

The most remarkable thing about the view was the gray, lowering sky, not far above the horizon. The beach itself was deserted, covered with snow, and the sea frozen over with slushy ice for what looked like twenty feet or more out from the shore. But beyond that, the wild sea churned and writhed like it was being relentlessly tortured by demons. It was hard to imagine that any living thing could stay alive in that frigid expanse. Could my mother be a sea creature like a Selkie or a mermaid?

My clearest recollection of her was at her dressing table in Sir John’s home, brushing her long, blonde hair and humming softly to herself. She must have been very beautiful if a king had wanted her so much that he kept her captive in his castle.

And Bracca said I resembled her. If that were true, how had the witch she contacted hidden that for so long? What kind of spell had she put on me? I knew that witches practiced powerful dark magic and had control over the winds, the waves and the weather. If anyone were so unwise as to offend one of them, it would most certainly mean their doom. How had my mother had the courage to approach one of them and then somehow convince them to help her? She must have been a bold young woman.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said a deep voice from right behind me, startling me. “I thought for a moment that you might have been foolish enough to try to run away, like your mother did.”

I whirled around to see Bracca leaning against the door frame, gazing at me with those green, fathomless eyes.

“Would you have cared? About me, I mean…I know you’d miss the kingdom and power I might bring you. Would you have come after me without that?”

He ignored what I said and straightened up to come slowly toward me. “I’ll always come after you. Make no mistake. I told you that you belong to me. I claimed you, and you’re mine.” He walked up behind me and put both hands on my shoulders. I couldn’t help leaning back into him, without intending to do so, but drawn there like iron filings to a magnet.

“It’s almost time for our wedding, so I’ve come to fetch you.”

“Have you? I’ve been in my room all morning. All alone.”

“I’m here now, a chuisle.”

“What do those words mean anyway? You use them a lot.”

“‘My pulse’ is the literal translation…it’s just a term of endearment.” He held out his hand to me. “Now let’s go down to your room and get you ready.”

“What exactly does ‘getting me ready’ entail?”

“I brought you a new outfit to wear. The entire court will be on hand to witness our union, and I want to show you off.”

“What about you then? Are you ready?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Again, you manage to make everything sound like a challenge.”

“It’s a gift, I suppose.”

He gave me a slow smile, reached for my hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. I felt the flutter in my heart and cursed it. I didn’t want to feel so much for him when I was all alone in this thing, and I’d do well to remember that.

He led me back down the long, winding stairs, holding tightly to my hand, as if he were afraid I might suddenly pull away and fling myself down the stairs.

Maybe the thought had occurred to me.