She felt how much he held back right now, so she melted against him, kissing him back with all the longing she felt for him. At the same time, she regained control and started to glide up and down his length. Satisfied when he moaned into her mouth, she began to circle with her hips while she rode him, adding a delicious pressure to her hidden pearl. He held her close against his chest and made her feel his wild heartbeat as her breasts rubbed against his skin. She mimicked his earlier gesture by grabbing a handful of his hair, too, making him her prisoner. Triumphantly, she forced back his head until he looked into her eyes. “Mine,” she whispered, “you are mine now, elf.”
Astonished for a moment, the prince seemed to be very pleased by her words. Is leatsa mé go brách, she heard his voice inside her mind, clearly as if he had spoken it out loud, and for the first time she realized that their inner bond had given her the ability to understand his elven language. I am yours, forever. With boundless satisfaction in his eyes, he started to increase the rhythm of their lovemaking, pushing himself up into her sweet body over and over again. Shortly before the flood took hold of him and carried him away, he heard her sobbing completion as she still moved against him, not stopping until he found his release inside her and abandoned himself to absolute pleasure.
“I am yours, Igraine,” he said again, this time a whisper into her ear. Forever. He held her tightly in his arms and never let go when a barrier in her heart broke down and she began to cry. Once she had started, she could not stop her tears from running over her face, soaking his hair while she buried her face in its softness. They were tears of love and pure joy, but also tears for the years of her life that had been wasted, giving unwanted love that was useless like a glass of spilled milk. And finally, tears of regret, since there was so little time left to be with the one she loved.
Forever would end all too soon.
Chapter 22: The Prince's Men
They left the inn at the first light of dawn. Eamon had provided them with everything they needed – fresh clothes, food supplies and water. Elathan bought one of the innkeeper’s best horses for Igraine, an elegant grey mare with kind eyes. “Her name is Bébinn,” the landlord said while he fastened a light saddle to the horse’s back. “It means …”
“Fair lady,” Igraine murmured. She repeated the name, stroking the mare’s neck. “Bay-vin,” she pronounced slowly, testing how the soft sound felt on her tongue. Elathan looked at her, appreciating her newfound knowledge of the elven language. “A most fitting name,” he said without taking his eyes off her. Igraine had the faintest feeling that his compliment wasn’t directed to the horse at all, and she felt heat rising in her cheeks. Mounting the mare with Elathan’s help, it occurred to her that she had never learned to ride, and she realized how much she had loved being in the saddle with him, feeling his strong body behind her. But as a long way still lay ahead of them, they would be faster on two horses, the prince had told her. From the rueful look he gave her while he handed her the reins, she knew that he missed having her in his arms, too.
Outside of the inn’s magic circle, they reached the burned grounds of the plain again. Elathan gave a short command to the horses, and they broke into a fast gallop. Igraine found that she knew how to ride after all. Instinctively she knew how to steer the horse with her thighs as Elathan did. Probably this was another skill she had gained from their blood bond. Her unexpected abilities seemed to improve with every time they made love. Even her body felt much better - younger, strong and healthy. It seemed as if it was not only she who surrendered a part of herself to the prince, he had also imparted gifts to her. For a fleeting moment she wondered if she had also taken some of his magic, but quickly dismissed the idea. This was ridiculous. She didn’t feel as if she had supernatural powers, and she was human, born without the capability to use the powers he seemed to draw out of the earth so easily.
They rode the whole day, just resting now and then to let the horses drink from a pond or a small stream. Eamon had provided them with simple, but delicious food for their journey. Igraine felt as she had never tasted anything as delicious and aromatic as the dark bread, cheese, dried meat and fruit they took from their saddle bags. The innkeeper had even thought of packing a bottle of red wine. It smelled mouthwatering, like berries and something else Igraine just couldn’t define, and just a few sips made her feel dizzy.
Elathan seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and didn’t talk much. Igraine wished she could sit in the saddle with him again. Even when their horses went side by side, she still wanted him closer. Her body ached for his touch, the warmth of his breath on her hair. But now and then he shot her a glance, and his face brightened as he smiled at her. Once he winked with a boyish gleam in his eyes, and Igraine’s heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Every time their eyes locked, a delightful shiver of wanting ran through her. So this was what it felt like – being in love with someone who returned that love. She embraced the happiness that filled the empty space inside her soul, overflowing her like a stream of sweet, warm honey, and she would bathe in the glorious feeling as long as it lasted.
When the sun rose high, they reached an old road and turned southwards, following it. The land was fertile, with lush green valleys, woods and hills covered with trees and bushes in full bloom. Colorful birds circled over their heads or hid in the crowns of the trees, calling for their mates. There were plants and flowers Igraine knew, but some of them were strange and exotic-looking, and emanated a beguiling smell that made her head swirl when she sniffed at them.
Elathan laughed at that, saying, “Be careful where you stick your nose into, human. Some of those flowers will lure you into a deep sleep if you inhale their scent for too long. You might never wake up again, depending on which predator roams these hills at night. And in some cases, plants with a preference for meat have developed a natural connection to the hunters. One paralyzes the prey, the other kills it and tears it into pieces, then they share.” He grinned with elfish glee when Igraine gasped and drew back from the beautiful purple flowers, backing off in the direction of her mare. When they both re-mounted, she saw that the prince was secretly chuckling to himself, so she surmised that his warning hadn’t been totally honest. She narrowed her eyes and stared at his back as if she could burn a hole into it, swearing that the elf would pay for that later.
At nightfall Elathan made a fire for them and went hunting for a while, bringing back a bird with bright blue feathers. It looked similar to a pheasant, and it tasted heavenly, roasted with dried herbs the thoughtful innkeeper had added to their supplies. After the meal, Igraine was so tired her eyes fell shut. Elathan cradled her up in his arms and wrapped his long, hooded cloak around them both before he lay down with her at a safe distance from the fire. Igraine was already asleep when he rested his chin on her hair and closed his eyes, deeply breathing in her sweet scent.
He was well aware of the strange mood that had taken hold of her. There was no doubt about her love, but he also felt her inner turmoil, the fear she managed to hide so well from him. She embraced every moment of joy and pleasure in a way that could only be described as desperate, or even greedy, as if she wanted to hoard those feelings and keep them locked up somewhere so they could never been taken away. Exhausted from the long day on horseback, he drifted off but still then he could feel her pain, her fear. The only reason he could think that would account for it was that she feared losing him.
Abruptly he opened his eyes again. She still had not confided in him what the unicorn told her. It was thinkable that Aon had foreseen his death. What would become of her when Ruadan succeeded in killing him? He would make Calatin promise to care for her if he died in battle. But he would make sure that his friend’s help wouldn’t be needed. Elathan did not intend to die so easily and leave his people’s fate in the hands of his brother, more specifically in the nymph’s. The prince’s heart beat faster with anticipation of the sweet revenge he would take on them for killing his father. Yet for now, he wanted nothing more t
han sleep, with this wondrous human female in his arms, feeling her comforting warmth, her complete trust. So soft.
Igraine. She alone made him feel at peace. She was his own to keep like a precious gem. And he would not allow anyone to take her away from him.
* * * * *
Their way took them longer than Elathan had expected. Three days and nights passed, and they still followed the road that wound its way between the hills and through the occasional deep valley that was filled with lush greenery, a turbulent stream or a quiet lake. Igraine had given up wondering about the new kinds of flowers and trees she saw. The animals looked familiar, only their size and colors were different from the species she knew from the human world. Once she saw a giant toad in bright yellow and orange sitting on a leaf beside a small pool of water, and when it woke up, disturbed by their trespassing, she could have sworn that it looked at her with deep, intelligent blue eyes.
The prince seemed to be in a better mood now, pointing out plants or places that he thought would interest her. He told her tales of his travels when he was young, of pranks he liked to play on the nobles at court before his harsh tutoring to become an elven knight began. Igraine liked to watch his face while he talked. It was amazing how much he changed when he let down his guard. His amber eyes didn’t really seem to look at her as they were directed in another time, another place in his long life – long before she even was born -, but they shone warm and bright with enthusiasm.
One night they made love in front of the fire, but Elathan took his time, covering her mouth and body with kisses that felt like summer rain on her skin. When she groaned with desire and arched her hips against him, she heard his low laughter of male satisfaction before he entered her, with an unexpected tenderness that brought tears of joy to her eyes. He increased the pace very slowly, taking her higher and higher with every shuddering breath until she bit into his shoulder to keep herself from screaming. His release followed just moments afterwards, and he spent himself inside her in a white hot explosion. When he came back to his senses, he wrapped his strong arms and legs around her protectively and drifted off to sleep, enjoying the soft trembling of her body molded to his own.
* * * * *
On the fourth day, the weather changed. The grayish clouds with their promise of rain vanished, and the sun came out. When they reached the top of a hill, Igraine saw the outline of mountains in the mist, their peaks topped with snow. “This is the land of my forefathers,” Elathan said, his expression earnest. Igraine just nodded, sensing that the sight of his home did not fill the prince’s heart with happiness.
Shortly before sundown, they reached a deep green, dark forest in a valley, nestled between two ridges. A higher mountain was right on the other side of the woods, but it was too dark to see it clearly. When they rode beneath the old oaks and willows, Igraine couldn’t escape the feeling that someone was watching her from out of the shadows. Once in a while, she heard the low crack of dry brushwood in the undergrowth, or a whistle that didn’t sound as if it came from a bird. When she looked at Elathan, he smiled at her. “They are still here, waiting for my return after all this time.”
Just when she wanted to ask about ‘them’, the prince stopped at a small rock formation and dismounted quickly, holding out his hand to help her down from Bébinn’s back. Then, he went to the stone and touched it with both hands, obviously searching for something. “An egg-shaped hole,” Igraine whispered, remembering what Calatin had told her. Elathan seemed to remember, too, since he found the opening soon, placing his hand inside it. The rock changed its color until it seemed to emanate a light, and a low humming sound started, growing louder and louder until it sounded like a scream, almost human. Igraine covered her ears, shouting, “The stone screams!” Doubtlessly, this was a very stupid thing to say, but Elathan grinned at her, nodding.
“This is why it’s called a Screaming Stone, woman,” he said. “It is said only to scream when the true king of the Elven Realms – or his heir - lays his hand on it. Until this day I didn’t know if it actually worked; I never tried it before. This will call my warriors to join us.”
Igraine narrowed her eyes. Calatin explained to me where to find the stone and where to place my hand, but it would have been useless, if you… “
“If I had been dead? Yes, the stone wouldn’t have screamed, but closed tightly around your hand, imprisoning you until my men could find you here and take you into their protection. Very thoughtful of Calatin, I'll have to thank him for that. On your own, you would just get yourself in danger again, and I wish you to be safe if something happens to me.”
“He … what?” Igraine was speechless for a moment, anger rising in her eyes. “This was Calatin’s idea? To keep me here, incapable of defending myself, my hand caught in a stone until someone chanced to find me? And if some large, hungry animal came and found me first? Or no one at all?”
“Oh, my men would always find you, Igraine. You humans move around the woods like a troll in the first flush of youth, trampling down everything in your path. Amused, he watched Igraine’s furious expression for a while, then he murmured, “They are already here.”
Igraine gasped when one by one, maybe two dozen elven warriors appeared out of nowhere, all of them wearing shimmering bronze armor with fitted shields over fine woven grey tunics, trousers and boots. Their long hair was partly braided so their pointed ears were visible, and they had the faces of angels, wide, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, curved lips and straight, aristocratic noses that were a sign of their noble heritage. They were very tall and broad-shouldered, but with the sleek muscles of someone who has been trained to move quickly in battle. Some of them gazed at Igraine with open admiration, others watched her more carefully, careful not to incite the wrath of their prince.
They were magnificent. Igraine couldn’t help staring like a fool while they knelt down before their overlord to greet him. With both hands on the hilt, they thrust their swords into the ground.
“This is … your guard?” she breathed.
Elathan groaned beside her. “They always have that effect on women of any race. You should see how the fairies fuss around them to braid their hair in the morning. I hope all that female attention hasn’t made them vain and lazy over the years. They probably spent hours polishing their amour every day instead of training as they should.”
For the first time Igraine noticed that Elathan’s beauty was of a more rugged kind, though he was endowed with the same graceful way of moving and defined features as the other elves. He showed no signs of age, but didn’t look young either. But his eyes were deep and reflective, their youthful glint gone after countless years of pain and solitude, separated from his people. Yet when he smiled, his roguish charm was irresistible, and his whole being seemed to radiate power and wisdom.
Calatin was the last to drop his glamour and unveiled himself right before them, making Igraine wince with surprise. He placed a hand on Elathan’s shoulder.
“I’m happy to see you survived your little argument with the grass demons,” he said with a smile, while his eyes were earnest and betrayed the sorrow he had felt for his cousin. “Now let’s find out what Ruadan will say tomorrow night, when you appear at his crowning ceremony as the guest of honor. The Prince’s Men are at your command, Sire.”
Chapter 23: The Mountain of Gold
That night, Igraine slept under soft woolen blankets, in the camp of Elathan's warriors who always held a tent ready for their prince, even if he was not present. It felt heavenly to lie down on the straw-filled pallet, although it was just a makeshift warrior's bed. Apart from the days in the inn, she had rested under the open sky so often that she was glad to have some kind of roof over her head again.
Not that it really mattered when one spent every night in the arms of a handsome elven warrior who smelled like earth, honey and fresh leaves. Besides, he made love like a pagan god come down to earth to claim a human woman.
With the first light of morning, they le
ft the camp and rode towards the foot of the mountain at the other end of the valley. When the sun rose, Elathan told Igraine to look up, and the beauty of the sight in front of her eyes took her breath away. According to the old legends, the Fae lived in hills under the earth, but now she saw that this wasn’t quite true. The huge elven palace wasn’t just built on top of the mountain, but carved right into the eternal stone by magic. The mountain actually was the palace, with high, arched windows, impregnable walls, battlements, turrets and towers, several inner and outer baileys that looked like terraces or the steps of a flight of giant’s stairs. This fortress would easily hold off any siege, for only a narrow, steep path wound around the ridge, ending at a heavily guarded portcullis.
The sun rose higher, and all of a sudden the whole mountain began to glow in a golden light, so bright that Igraine had to shield her eyes. She smiled to herself. This impressive castle seemed to be perfect for her noble, golden warrior, representative of what befit a king. Yet she knew his true colors now. The forest was the only place where he would ever feel at home.
“Aye, it’s beautiful,” Elathan said, taking her hand and kissing it. “My ancestors called it Sliabh an Óir. The Mountain of Gold. I wished I could have welcomed you to my home with all honors, entering through the gates as a prince should, with the royal guard to greet us. Instead, I come like a thief in the night, after hiding in the woods.”
Calatin reined his horse beside them. He had heard Elathan’s last words. “Igraine does not care, and your people won’t either, Sire. Their prince has returned at last.”
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