It was an exciting feeling to ride blindfolded at breakneck speed, leaning back against her lover’s tall body. The prince had donned his hunting habit again. He had one strong arm safely around her waist, the other holding the reins of his black steed. Igraine savored the elf’s warmth, comfortably snuggling against his chest while she felt the horse moving under her at an incredibly fast pace, perfectly synchronized with the body of its master, whose muscled thighs steered it easily through the dense labyrinth of the trees.
They seemed to ride on for hours. Evidently the enchanted forest was much larger than Igraine had expected. She couldn’t see anything, but she still had a sense of light and shade. At first she had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, but it seemed to be colder now as the trees grew closer together. Even the birds had fallen silent. Only the cry of a lone falcon was heard, flying high above their heads. After a while, she completely lost the feeling of time; still exhausted from the prince’s lovemaking this morning and the night before, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.
They proceeded deeper and deeper into the forest, the elf lost in his own thoughts while he held his sleeping human tightly in his arms, placing a kiss on her hair now and then. Igraine awakened when she noticed that the horse was going much slower now and coming to a halt at last. Elathan’s breath grazed her ear.
“We are there,” he said. She felt his long fingers untying the knot behind her head, removing the black silk. The light hurt her eyes at first, and she shielded them with one hand. It took her a while before the blind spots disappeared from her vision, but then she saw it.
They stood at the edge of a thickly forested ravine, the slope plunging steeply down into the tops of the huge, old trees that grew up from below. Igraine thought she glimpsed oaks, hickories, wild olives and cedars there, a lush variety of nature in all its glorious forms. On the far opposite side of the ravine she saw the rugged cliff of a mountain, only sparsely scattered with pines. The grey, unyielding rock stood in stark contrast to the trees covering the ravine floor like a green sea, their leaves softly waving in the breeze. A massive waterfall cascaded down the mossy cliff over a river, seeking its way along the foot of the mountain. The spraying water reflected the blue-green colors of the sky and surrounding trees, giving life to the plants below.
A falcon high over them spread its wings and dived down through the air to the ravine, carried by the winds which had brought him here. Igraine believed it was the same one whose cries she had heard on the way. He seemed to have followed them.
She did not notice the single tear that rolled down her cheek until Elathan caught it with his finger and wiped it away tenderly. Then he touched the salty moistness with his dark lips, tasting it.
“Do you like my surprise, sweet Igraine?” he asked, his voice deep and low. “It is a beautiful sight indeed, even for the eyes of an immortal. In my long life I have seen many wondrous lands, but none of them could be compared with this place. I never showed it to anyone before.”
She didn’t answer but turned her head to the prince, looking up into his amber eyes. They rested on her face with a warm, yet unfathomable expression. It was astounding how different he looked and acted now. He hardly resembled the embittered, cynical warrior she had encountered in the caves anymore. That other Elathan had been brooding, dangerous and darkly seductive. He hadn't smiled or told her stories at the fireside, and she couldn't imagine him rolling around with her on the ground, laughing.
Igraine opened her lips as words ascended from the depths of her soul, demanding to be spoken out loud. But she didn’t dare to cross the line, couldn’t tell him that she loved him. She was only a lowly human to him; his pampered slave whose body he owned, even if he honored her and fulfilled her every need. It was undeniable that he desired her and enjoyed her companionship. But in his world, she would never be his equal.
All thoughts were forgotten when Elathan tightened his arms around her, turning her to face him. He entangled his fingers in the shining mass of her hair and pulled her up to him, bringing his lips to hers. There he paused for a few moments. It was strange. Whenever he looked deep into her beautiful eyes, green and alive like the lush valley before them, he felt like coming home. The scent of her skin confused his senses; he wanted to take her again, right here on horseback. It would have been so easy to lift her skirts and make her sit down on his lap. He longed for her softness, her moist heat that welcomed him into her body every time they joined. But she wasn't ready for him again after he had strained her too much during the last few days. She needed some rest.
Igraine shivered when the prince’s long fingers caressed her temples as he took her face into his hands. Then he lowered his head and kissed her so gently he barely brushed her mouth with his as their breaths mingled. He closed his eyes before he began to stroke her softly with his lips, touching not only her mouth, but her chin, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, one after another, then her eyelids. His mouth wandered down her face again, tugging at her lower lip and nibbling a bit before he coaxed her with his tongue to let him in. His touch had never been so tender before. She felt his male desire burning under the surface, but this time he kissed her with deep affection and feeling, showing her how precious she was to him.
He bent her back in his arms while his kiss deepened, yet still it was not taunted by raw lust but loving, cherishing her. Her long dark hair spilled over the sleeve of his tunic and entwined with his blonde tresses. The elf’s touch was so pure, so beautiful it brought tears to her closed eyes, and instinctively she knew that this was a part of himself that he would not share with any lover. She even doubted if he had ever kissed a female like that before. It might be presumptuous for a mere human to think that way, but the blood bond connected them in more ways than she had expected. Sometimes she did not merely assume what he was thinking or feeling anymore. She just knew.
When they finally separated, it was Igraine who broke away from him, breathing heavily. Her hands slid inside his soft shirt, parting the loosely laced fabric over his broad chest as she started to place small kisses on his skin, feeling his strong heartbeat under her cheek. “I want you, my Prince,” she whispered, starting to kiss his neck.
Elathan groaned, the sound showing his pleasure but also his effort to control himself. “There is nothing I wish more than to take you now, mo ghrá. But I didn’t bring you here just to show you this place. I would like you to meet … let’s say, a very old friend of mine. And we still have a long way ahead of us if we want to see him before he leaves for the hunt at night.” He stretched out his hand and gestured to the waterfall at the other end of the ravine. “This is our destination.”
He kissed her again, pressing her against his body to make her feel his desire. Then he turned her around in the saddle, took up the reins and urged the horse forward to begin the long descent into the ravine.
Igraine only threw a quick glance at the deadly steep slope and closed her eyes, clinging to his arm for dear life.
“I hope you are a good rider, elf,” she said.
Chapter 16: Old Friends
It was almost dark by the time they reached the other side of the ravine. While descending into the green abyss, Igraine had felt so sick that she was too weak even to counter the prince’s naughty jokes about questioning his abilities as a rider. Not talking about horses at all, he assured her that he would prove his skills to her later, at the same time steering Ahearn down the side of the wooded mountain with ease. “Frightened of heights, human?” His words teased her, but his arm tightened around her protectively, silently telling her that he would not let her fall.
Having dismounted, they let the horse run free and stood at the river’s edge. On its other side the waterfall came rushing down into a large pool of water, a fine mist rising up from it. The thundering sound drowned out all other noises. Igraine looked up to Elathan, shrugging her shoulders as if to ask him where to go next. The elf nodded to the waterfall and started to lead her across a narrow part of
the river where some huge boulders were standing out from the water, forming a natural bridge. The stones were slippery, and she grabbed the prince’s outstretched hand gratefully.
After a few steps, Igraine could hardly see through the mist, and the ground became slippery. But Elathan led her safely over the disturbed waters and around the natural pool. When they reached the massive stone wall, Igraine saw that though invisible from the other side, there was a path leading behind the waterfall, where it disappeared into the mountain. “A cave,” she breathed, stunned. Despite the deafening noise of the streaming water Elathan heard her, and he nodded, a secretive smile on his sensuous lips.
They went along the mossy side of the mountain, pressing their backs against the eternal stone. Igraine wondered if she would be crushed under the heavy mass of the waterfall if she tried to go right through it. At last they proceeded to the gaping hole in the rock and entered the darkness of the cave. It took a while until her eyes adjusted to the dim light that still entered the opening. She noticed a tunnel that seemed to lead downwards. She held on tighter to Elathan, and he pressed her fingers reassuringly.
The elf stretched out his left hand and stared at his palm for a moment until a flame appeared on it. Its magic light showed them the way through the darkened corridor, and they followed it deeper into the bowels of the mountain, Elathan leading the way. Igraine knew she should be frightened, and she was, but the simple joy of holding his hand was stronger than her fear. It made her feel like she belonged to him. She didn’t know if he held her in his grasp only to keep her from stumbling and getting hurt or if he liked their silent companionship just as she did. But she noticed that the path wasn’t as steep as before, and there weren’t many rocks to fall over anymore. To be honest, now she was quite safe to walk on her own. Maybe the prince liked holding hands with her, after all. The thought brought a smile to her face.
The tunnel seemed to curve through the darkness endlessly. Water was dripping from the walls, but it was not cold; the air was thick with moisture so it became harder to breathe with every step they took. Elathan guided her, his strong fingers determinedly closed around hers. The warmth of his skin seemed to penetrate her own, and a familiar heat spread in the lower parts of her body. It was incredible how much she wanted him even now. Her desire had grown stronger and stronger since they joined their blood. She couldn’t stay away from him much longer than a few hours.
Behind a sharp bend the tunnel widened, and there was a row of small chambers, one leading into the next. It was pitch dark and silent. Igraine discovered once again that her senses had sharpened since her bonding with the elf. When she listened very carefully, she could hear the sounds of little creatures that lived in the impenetrable darkness and quiet. They were crawling along the endless galleries of stone, blindly searching for food or a mate with which to reproduce.
The air grew hotter with every new cave they entered. Soon Igraine’s dress clung to her body, and she saw tiny drops of moisture on the prince’s forehead. In some of the chambers the floor was littered with bones, white remains of unknown creatures. They shone in the light of Elathan’s flame. Igraine didn’t dare to examine them closely, not wanting to find out to which animal – or maybe human being – they once belonged. But there was no doubt that a predator lived here, lurking somewhere in the darkness of these caves. Igraine shivered, relieved that the elf’s strong hand gave her the courage to go on.
They came into another room, partly collapsed so that only a narrow passage among enormous blocks of stone allowed them to pass. Igraine ducked under the low opening, closing her eyes and hoping the heavy rock would not crumble over her head and bury her alive. But when she straightened on the other side, she gasped in awe at the spectacular sight that awaited her.
The magic light played on Elathan’s elven features as he saw her widened eyes, eagerly soaking up all the wonders his world held in store for her. It seemed that he never grew tired watching her childlike excitement whenever she discovered something new. It had become a very satisfying habit to him to surprise her, show her things she could never have imagined existed. Seeing the smile on her face, radiating with pure happiness, filled his heart with a deep peace he had not felt for a very long time. Over the long years in exile, he had become tired of life, only revelling in his thirst for revenge, so he had closed his eyes against beauty in all its forms. Never had he expected to find it through the eyes of a mortal woman.
They were standing at the entrance to a vast cave, much larger than the one Elathan used to bathe in. It was very high, with an arched ceiling. A row of massive pillars made of white, glittering crystal along the walls reflected the light and gave the chamber the look of a cathedral. There was a fascinating variety of forms, an elephant’s foot, a row of sparkling waterfalls that looked like they had been frozen while falling down from the walls, the fragile form of a lily growing on the cave floor where a standing pool of water had once been.
At the far end the cave ended in a labyrinth of stalagmites and columns, some of them standing so close together that a grown man could hardly pass through. Igraine let her gaze wander over the beauty surrounding her, barely aware that the flame in the prince’s hand had become extinct before he stepped behind her and enclosed her in his arms, not paying heed to this palace of eternal stone. His eyes rested on her amazed face alone.
“It’s beautiful,” Igraine whispered, her hand seeking Elathan’s on her waist.
She felt him nod silently, not knowing that he was looking at her with an indecipherable expression on his face. The graceful, high formations of stone surrounded a vast lake, extending to the far end of the cave. It was not a lake of water, however, but a crater filled with liquid fire, the molten lava wavering and bubbling. The surface was smooth and treacherously dark, like a black egg with cracks in its shell; between them lay deep-red lines of fire, their deadly heat threatening every living being that dared to come too near. The contrast to the lavish decorations of limestone, bathed in the red glow of the lava, was breathtaking.
“It is called The Hall of Kings,” Elathan said quietly. “The old legends speak of this place, but its location is unknown. Many of my people do not even believe that it really exists. Only the king of the elven realms and his heir to the throne know the secret – and now, you. My father brought me here when he deemed me old enough to meet him.”
“Him?” Igraine repeated absentmindedly, not able to avert her gaze from the lake. The air was so hot that she began to sweat, rivulets of moisture running down her neck and collecting between her breasts. A damp lock stuck to her temple, and she brushed it back. Suddenly, Elathan’s muscular forearms held her closer. She was pressed against his body and felt his heated skin, even through the layers of their elven clothing. The hard length of his manhood tightened against her, and she moved seductively, rubbing herself against him. The elf moaned and bit playfully into the side of her neck to punish her.
“You should know by now how to behave in the presence of a prince, woman,” he mocked her. “When we leave this cave, I will have to teach you. I always wanted to find out how long a frail human can take an elf’s pleasure. We will see.” He paused, smiling darkly. Despite the heat, a shiver ran down Igrain's spine. She already knew that the prince tended to fulfill his promises.
“But now I want you to meet my friend,” Elathan continued. “He is the oldest creature dwelling in this forest. I hope that he has not already left for this night’s hunt.” Elathan stepped away from Igraine before he closed his eyes and concentrated, the air around him crackling with magic.
Igraine looked around, waiting for the mysterious friend to enter, but nothing happened. She didn’t realize at first that the surface of the lava began to change, the black crust giving way to the blazing red heat erupting from the depths of the crater. But then something seen from the corner of her eye drew her attention, and she just turned her head in time to see a long, sharp object piercing the bubbling liquid. It was gleaming fiery red li
ke the element from which it was released, smoke rising from the razor-sharp tip. It seemed to be made from a bone-hard material, and diagonal lines wound around the whole length of it.
It was a horn.
She couldn’t believe her own eyes when she saw the beast emerging from the molten lava. It was a creature born of fire, covered with opalescent, golden-red scales. Black, snake-like pupils glowed like charcoals in the dark. There was no doubt that the horn rising from its forehead was a deadly weapon. It left the lake step by step, moving with grace and beauty. Faintly resembling a huge, muscular war horse, it walked on four long legs with cleft hooves. But its head looked more like a reptile’s, with small nose slits and sharp, predatory teeth in the slightly bent snout. Igraine involuntarily went closer to Elathan again, remembering the cleanly gnawed bones she had seen in the antechambers. The bushy mane and tail looked like a lion’s, shimmering white and golden.
Elathan pushed her behind him, shielding her with his body from the beast’s sight.
“A unicorn,” Igraine whispered.
Elathan nodded slightly. “His father was. But his mother was a dragon. His name is Aonadharcach, and he is the last of his kind. I would suggest that you stay back and let me talk to him first.”
Igraine had the sudden urge to laugh hysterically. As if she had even thought of talking to this beast! She wondered which topic would be appropriate for a conversation with a unicorn, especially if it was half dragon. The weather, perhaps? But as frightening as the creature was, she was mesmerized by its wild beauty. She stared at it … him with widened eyes, unable to move.
“Aon,” Elathan called when the unicorn stopped before them. He was much larger than a horse, the tall elf just reaching to the creature’s flanks. To Igraine’s surprise the prince bowed his head, greeting his friend.
The unicorn tilted his head to the side, watching the elf for a while. Aon blinked, and thin, transparent membranes slid up over his eyes, disappearing behind his lids. Obviously they had protected his sensitive pupils from the heat of the molten lava. Then he bowed, repeating Elathan’s gesture.
Bound to the Prince Page 17