Bound to the Prince

by Deborah Court

  * * * * *

  Prince Ruadan stepped out of the royal chambers and descended the stairs do his vast throne room, accompanied by two bulky troll guards, armed to the teeth to protect their master and future sovereign. He was wearing his best armor and the resplendent coronation robe of his noble ancestors, made of deep green velvet. It was adorned with gemstones and fastened with a huge emerald brooch. Around his neck he wore a golden chain with the Seal of Kings.

  Ruadan paused on a landing before a high, gold-framed mirror. His appearance was flawless. He had inherited his mother’s compelling beauty which made it impossible to resist him, a sleek, muscular body and a perfectly shaped elven face with deep green eyes. His midnight-black hair fell loosely over his shoulders, tiny emeralds woven in between his warrior’s braids.

  Half-breed, a cruel voice in his head whispered.

  It was the voice of his mother. She made sure that he never forgot his heritage. He knew what the court whispered behind his back. Son of the nymph, they called him. Elathan was King Midhir’s true heir, and he would always be, traitor or not. Ruadan’s authority would have to be established with severe laws that would ensure his power and the succession of his own, considering the possibility that Elathan would father a son. It was a rare gift when a child was born in the elven lands, but maybe his half-brother already had a bastard hidden somewhere, conceived in a barn or after battle with one of the pleasure nymphs who followed in the trail of the elven army.

  But Elathan was not here, so Ruadan would be Great King of the Elven Realms in less than an hour. Once he was crowned, not even his brother could ever dispute his right to the throne, as long as he lived. And Ruadan intended to live for a very long time, now that he had come so far. A dark smile spread over his lips. Son of the nymph, indeed. Very soon, it would be dangerous to call him anything except his proper title.

  The whole court bowed respectfully as he walked by, his gaze directed to the high golden throne on the far end of the richly decorated hall. The walls and the high, arched ceiling were painted with royal decorations, and huge tapestries depicted glorious deeds of former kings. Elves, fairies, goblins and trolls, even the sea people in their cities on the bottom of the sea, would all be under his command.

  Slowly, he went up the dais and slowly sat down on the king’s chair, as his people simply called the throne. A sharp pain pierced his heart when he realized that his father had been the last king to claim this throne. What have I done? His hands began to shake, and he felt the sudden urge to run away, not realizing that the druids had begun their chanting to start the ceremony.

  But then, there was the touch of soft, female fingers on his shoulder, and a surge of magic ran through his body. It confused his senses and made him feel sick for a moment, but then his mind cleared. He relaxed, fully convinced that he had done the right thing, freeing his kingdom of a ruler who had become old and weak.

  “My queen,” he murmured, looking up into his mother’s ageless face, more beautiful than anything he could imagine. She had emerged from the antechamber behind the dais, her steps so graceful that he had not heard her until she stood at his side. “All is well, my son. Now talk to your people,” she said.

  Ruadan raised his hand, and the great hall fell silent.

  “Tuatha Dé Danann,” he said, and neither his face nor his voice betrayed the inner turmoil he had fought just moments before. “Today I’ll crown myself your king. Now I ask you – do I have your love and allegiance?” He did not enjoy the courtier’s applause and cheering voices since he knew that his troll guards ensured that nobody would dare to challenge his right to succession, so that nothing would delay the ceremony. According to the law, an elven king still needed his people’s approval to be crowned.

  “I, Ruadan, will bring the kingdom back to its former glory. Too long have we allowed the kingdom to be weakened by those who wished to govern their own people, defending their own borders without subjecting to the law. First we’ll conquer the Fae who haven’t agreed to become a part of the kingdom yet, and they will answer to my royal call. The dark elves of the wild lands in the south, the giants, the seafolk and the creatures of the underworld, they all will bend their knees and swear their oath to me.

  “Then, the guild of magicians who still live in their hidden valley and answer to no one, not even their rightful king. I will grant mercy to those who succumb to the law and agree that all usage of magic will be controlled by the council of elders. Stripped of their honors and selfish pride, the sorcerers will become what they are meant to be – servants to the people, helping them whenever the council deems it wise to use magic, considering the dangers.

  “Finally, I will reach out into the world of humans. Fools as they are, unaware that only a thin curtain separates them from the Fae, and that we can cross the threshold any time we want. Their ignorance and disbelief makes them easy targets. The strong ones will be useful as slaves to build the new palace I’m planning. The rest of them will surrender or die, like they are destined. King Bres has kept the peace for many years, but he has left his people weak and unprotected against any enemy who should choose to attack the elven realms. Now, the reign of Ruadan has begun.”

  Without waiting for the appraising noise that would unerringly follow, he stretched out his hand for the golden crown that one of the druids held up on a silken pillow, ready to crown himself in the time-honored tradition of all the great kings before him.

  “Nice speech, brother,” a deep, melodic voice broke the silence. Ruadan’s hand fell to his side, and he turned towards the crowd, which had parted to make way for Elathan, who had dropped his hooded cloak to the floor. A collective gasp went through the elven nobles as they recognized their prince. Behind him, the Prince’s Men had cornered the armored trolls and held them captive with their swords while the prince walked up to the dais. “You seem to have great plans. But I fear that your efforts were in vain. As King Bres’s firstborn son, I have come to claim my right to the throne.”

  The trolls’ snarls and growls were the only sounds in the hall while the courtiers turned to the throne again.

  Ruadan looked at him skeptically, lifting one arched black brow. “Interesting attempt, traitor. I wouldn’t have expected you to come back after you killed our noble father. Now I suggest that you order your men to release my guards and let yourself be taken to the dungeon where you will patiently wait for your trial and execution.”

  “And why would I want to do that?” Elathan asked.

  “Because my trolls found this worthless creature, shortly before the ceremony. She was wandering around in the tunnels under the castle.” Ruadan gestured, and one of his servants opened the door to the antechamber where a screaming and kicking Igraine was tied to a wooden beam. “I assume this shapely human belongs to you?” At his side, Breena smiled sweetly.

  Elathan narrowed his eyes, but the expression of his faces stayed unmoved. “A slave? I have never seen her before,” he said coldly.

  “So you won’t object if we kill her right on the spot,” Ruadan suggested. The servant pulled out a dagger and held it to Igraine’s throat, waiting for his master’s order.

  Elathan closed his eyes shortly. “I thought I told you to stay back in the woods,” he said, loud enough for Igraine to hear him. Then he called out to his men. “Release the trolls.” Looking at Ruadan, he nodded. “You will let her leave unharmed, accompanied by my men,” he said. “Swear it in front of this court. In return, I will not challenge your right to be king again, and I’ll declare myself guilty at my trial without further resistance.”

  “Agreed,” Ruadan answered. “I swear. Now seize him."

  * * * * *

  As soon as the servant cut her loose, Igraine ran straight to the door to enter the great hall. “No!” she cried. “You can’t take him! He is not guilty! Elathan didn’t kill the king, he was with me!”

  Her voice was suffocated by the deafening noise that was coming from the hall when all hell broke loose. A horde
of trolls surrounded Elathan, who simply stood there with a bored smile, presenting his wrists to be bound while they took his sword from him. Women screamed, Fae of all races flew from the throne room not to be trampled down by the furious troll guards, driven by their instinct to kill once it had been awakened. Elathan’s warriors stormed into the antechamber, gathering around Igraine to protect her.

  A wall of tall, muscular elves stood in her way now. Out of her mind with anger, she tried to push them away, helplessly hitting against their metal armor with her bare hands. “Go back!” she shrieked, “Defend your prince, for heaven’s sake! What kind of guard are you if you just let them take him away?”

  “We must, my Lady,” one of them said, a young elf with golden hair and sunburned skin. She thought that she had heard the others call him Kalan. “We have to follow my Prince’s orders.” But when she looked up into his face, she saw that his eyes were filled with unshed tears.

  Igraine wanted to answer, trying to change his mind. Right then, she looked over his shoulder into the throne room and saw Elathan, with a troll’s short, broad sword pressed to his neck. They had removed his armor and stripped him down to the waist to wrap heavy iron chains around his body. She saw that the metal burned his skin, but he didn’t flinch or move at all. The Fae have an intense dislike for iron, she remembered from a book she once read, and now she knew why.

  The prince’s face was as hard and unmoving as a stone, so different from the carefree, enamoring elf who had told her stories by the fire at night. Their days in the Enchanted Forest seemed to be ages away now, like a wondrous dream that had ended all too soon. Feeling her gaze on him, he turned his head slightly and looked her right in the eyes, and just for the merest moment they were aflame with all the love he felt for her. Go, Igraine, she heard his deep voice inside her mind, and it wasn’t a plea. It was a command.

  A strong arm reached around her waist and pulled her away. She broke into breathless sobs when the door to the great hall was closed, separating her from Elathan forever. But Calatin was there, holding her in his embrace while she cried desperately, aware that there was nothing she could do to prevent what would happen. They would kill her prince, and he’d die alone and dishonored. It was her fault. He had ordered her to remain in the woods, waiting at the entrance to the secret tunnels that led into the castle. But she could not endure staying away and followed at a safe distance, fearing that she could not fulfill Aon’s prophecy and save him when his life was in danger. Now her own foolish actions had sealed his fate.

  Chapter 24: The Forgotten City

  Firmly urged forward by Calatin, Igraine ran along the secret corridors underneath the palace. The elven warriors were close on their heels, tortured by their own wish to go back and fight for their prince. But Calatin had made it clear that they had to escape before Ruadan changed his mind and ordered his trolls to kill them all. Although the knights were more than ready to die for Elathan, they agreed that it would be best to leave now and come back to free him later. The prince had told them to protect Igraine no matter what happened to him, and they had to respect his last wish, whether they liked his command or not.

  At a bend in the tunnels, the magician told his men that he wanted to speak to Igraine alone, and he sent them ahead. When they were gone, he turned to her with a penetrating look. Breathing heavily from the long run, she leaned against the humid rock of the wall.

  “My Lady,” Calatin said, hesitating. “May I ask how far you would go to save Elathan, if there was a possibility?”

  Angered, she narrowed her eyes at him. “How dare you ask me such a question, Calatin? You are his best friend. I expected you to know about the bond we share. Do I really have to tell you? I love him. I would readily die if I could save his life.”

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips, laughing when she pulled her fingers away. “Forgive me, Igraine. I never questioned your feelings for my Prince, but what I wish you to do is so terrible, so dangerous that Elathan would kill me for it if he knew I asked it of you. I know that I have sworn to protect you. But even if we attack the castle with all our men and peasants who are loyal to the prince, even if my magic was strong enough to bring us right into the inner bailey, there won’t be enough of us to kill all the troll guards and the rest of Ruadan’s followers. We’ll die a noble death in battle for our prince, but it will serve him nothing.

  Ruadan can’t be crowned now that Elathan has challenged his right to the throne, so he has to get rid of him quickly. He will be executed in two days. It is the fastest way to get him tried by the elders, who would never condemn a prince without believable proof, even if Ruadan threatened their families. But Elathan has sworn to confess to being guilty in exchange for your safety, and he will keep his word. By law the court of the elders can’t doubt the word of a royal prince, and they will sentence him to death, even if they know that he didn’t kill the king.”

  Igraine put a hand over her chest to steady the frantic beating of her heart. “How…” she began, but the rest of the words got stuck in her throat.

  “Beheading. With his own sword,” Calatin answered darkly. “It is the most honorable way to die for a noble traitor.”

  “Tell me what I can do,” she whispered.

  “There is a city which is forgotten by most of the Fae because it is one of the darkest, most dangerous places in all of the Elven Realms. It is inhabited by sinister creatures. They will kill anyone who enters their realm unbidden, tearing him to pieces before he can utter a single word.”

  “Then how can I …”

  “Gargoyles,” Calatin continued, his eyes holding hers captured. “You wish to ask me why they should let you pass, a human woman? They won’t, for they answer alone to the king of the Tuatha Dé Danann, or to his true heir. You are Elathan’s slave of pleasure, Igraine. You have his blood in your veins, since you bonded with him.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “But how will they know that if they don’t even let me speak?”

  “They will have to taste his blood in yours when they attack you. If not too many of them wound you at once, you’ll live long enough to let them recognize you as Elathan’s mate. They will let you enter their city then, and you can ask their chieftain for help. They are well versed in the use of magic, so they might even heal you. If we had them on our side, the greatest army couldn’t resist us.”

  Igraine almost laughed. Her chances in this mission were nearly nonexistent. She cleared her throat. “So you suggest that I try to enter this city of gargoyles, hold still while they attack me in order to let them draw my blood, all the while hoping that they’ll taste Elathan’s blood in mine? If I survive all this, I am to talk to their chieftain so the gargoyles will help us to fight Ruadan’s guard and free Elathan before he is executed in two days’ time?”

  Calatin winced, not able to look into her eyes anymore. “That’s right,” he admitted.

  “Sounds great. Now would you please show me the shortest way to this city of gargoyles?”

  “The gargoyles will go for your eyes first, Igraine,” Calatin said calmly while created a magic door in the cavern wall, much similar to the one that had led her to the Enchanted Forest. “They like to blind their victims before they go for the kill. And never lie to them, for they will know it and kill you instantly. They can smell your fear when you don’t tell the truth.” Slowly the rock moved aside and gave way to a blinding light, so they couldn’t see what was on the other side. “If it’s necessary, remind them of the oath they swore to the elven kings long ago: That they should help the realm in times of need. In return, they were granted their independence and the right to abide by their own laws as long as they didn’t hurt any Fae.”

  It didn’t escape Igraine’s notice that the rule about not hurting anyone obviously wasn’t valid for humans. Shrugging that small detail off, she simply closed her eyes and stepped into the silver light that poured through the opening in the rock. “Farewell, my Lady,” she heard Calatin’s voice behind her
, clear but slowly fading away. “We’ll await you in the woods until tomorrow at sundown. After that, we’ll head to the palace to defend our prince, come what may. I’ll pray to the gods for your safe return. You are our only hope now.”

  The light was so bright that she was even blinded through closed lids, so she covered her face in her hands. Then, it was gone and a deep darkness surrounded her. When a cool breeze touched her skin, she let her arms fall to her sides. Opening her eyes, everything was black for a moment, but she heard a sound that she had not expected; possibly since she had just been in cave tunnels, deep inside a mountain. It was the song of a night bird.

  After a while her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she saw that she was in the open, though she couldn’t see the sky above. She was standing on a narrow forest path, with incredibly high trees growing on either side. Their branches were densely covered with leaves and entwined, so that they formed an arched ceiling, allowing just a hint of light to pass through. Igraine had no choice but to follow the path, stumbling along in the hope that she wouldn’t fall over a root and sprain her ankle or break her leg.

  It was highly unlikely that someone would rescue her from this place, and probably better to die all alone than be found by the creatures living in this wood. It was nothing like the Enchanted Forest, where the elms had seemed to welcome their prince and his lover, showering them with golden leaves. Evil penetrated this place, and the trees had something about them that she could only describe as cold, even cruel maybe. A dry laughter escaped her lips. Without realizing it, she had already adapted to the elven way of thinking, even dividing the trees into friendly and hostile individuals.

  Finally, she managed to overcome her fears by thinking of Elathan. He was probably locked up in the dungeons under the palace by now, bound by iron chains, maybe even being tortured. Even here – wherever she was - she could feel his presence like the light of an ever-burning candle, deep inside her soul. Although he was far away, she felt his pain, his utter lack of hope. Maybe he even regretted having met her, now that she had brought him into this situation. Still, they were bound to each other, and she knew that his mind was reaching out to her right now, trying to find her in the darkness.