The words come before I can stop them. To most, I might sound nosey, even rude. But to my kind, it is a logical question. Half-breeds don't become great. It just doesn't happen.
The prince's gaze falls on me, and a look of sympathy passes through his eyes. “I have heard of others like me that are held captive,” he says. “Only, I’ve never met one until now.”
I try my best to look independent. “Oh, I'm not a slave anymore.”
“Actually, you are,” Bellator says, turning her head slightly as if to acknowledge an especially irritating insect. “Your will belongs to me. What do you think that makes you?”
“My will is my own,” I object. “I'm just—”
“You serve me, half-wit! From now until we gain our prize, you’re my slave. From there, we'll negotiate the terms for your freedom.”
I am distracted from making an immediate reply as I notice the prince leaning over to whisper in the girl's ear.
“It's not your call to sacrifice yourself to protect me,” the girl hisses in response to whatever he said to her.
Bellator spins to face them again, her bow rediscovering its original target.
“Marianna, I said to keep your voice down,” the prince says through his teeth, facing us again with a defiant scowl.
“Drop your sword!” Bellator orders.
He brandishes his sword, ending with a flourish that leaves it pointing at her. “Never!” he says with a slight toss of his head.
Bellator bursts into a peal of mocking laughter. “Do you honestly think you have the advantage here, little prince? My arrow will strike you before you can even think of blocking it. And then who will be left to protect your beloved from me?”
“No one needs to protect me,” Marianna says. “Hamish, we can talk this through without anyone getting hurt.”
The prince hesitates.
“You should listen to her, boy,” Bellator says.
His jaw clenches, his eyes blazing with indignant anger. But even as he does, his decision is made.
He throws his sword at her feet.
“Wise choice, half-breed,” Bellator sneers. “Get down on your knees!”
“Bellator,” I intervene, “do you need to humiliate him?”
“Down on your knees!” she shouts, ignoring me.
“Must you be so cruel?” Marianna cries, going to stand by the prince's side. “We are willing to listen to what you have to say.”
“Get back, girl!” Bellator barks. “Or you will be the cause of your prince's death!”
Marianna recoils at once, throwing up her hands in submission. The prince glares at Bellator and slowly, with as much rebellion as he can safely muster, he gets down on his knees.
Bellator lowers her bow, removing the arrow from the string. She slides it back into her quiver and pulls her bow over her shoulder.
“Ligar!” she cries, her eyes changing briefly into black and white swirling holes.
In an instant, the grass at Marianna's feet rises around her and braids itself together, forming a rope. Bellator flourishes her hand. The makeshift rope binds itself around Marianna's hands and winds around her body. She opens her mouth to scream and the rope snakes into it like a gag. Bellator closes her hand into a fist. The ropes tighten.
“You're a witch!” Prince Hamish exclaims.
Bellator laughs harshly. “No, my prince. You have it all wrong! I'm just a poor girl well versed in the art of magic.”
“Whatever you are, I demand that you untie Lady Marianna at once!”
“I don't take orders from a spoiled palace brat!”
“And I don't take orders from a bloody outlaw!” Snatching up his sword, he turns to cut Marianna free.
In an instant, Bellator's arrow is on the string again.
“Don’t!” I shout as she releases it.
The arrow whizzes through the prince's hair, nicking his ear before it slams into the tree right behind Marianna.
He freezes, putting his fingers to his ear.
Bellator throws out her hand toward him, reaching as if she is grabbing for something, and then jerks it back. He flies forward and hits the ground on his face at her feet.
“Isn’t it better,” she says, shoving her bow into my hands, “to do as you’re told?”
Prince Hamish tries to push himself up, but she places her foot in the centre of his back and shoves him down again. His hands snap together and a pair of leather handcuffs appears on his wrists.
“Did you really think you could free her?” she says, jerking him to his knees by the collar of his doublet. “I could’ve shot you both dead in a second!”
“Why did you not, then?” Hamish demands.
“I need answers.”
The prince narrowed his eyes.
“And if I don’t get them, I’ll make you watch as I cut your lady apart piece by piece!”
“No, you won’t!” I snap.
Hamish fights his bonds. “You touch her, and I’ll kill you!”
“That’s adorable,” Bellator retorts. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to listen while you say your vows. While you were walking, you mentioned a name. Jambeau. Is he with you, or did your worthless father leave his useless hide in Twylaun?”
The prince scowled. “He is here in Gerithold.”
“I hear they made that imbecile captain of the guard. How fitting.”
Understanding dawns on his face. “This is personal. Isn’t it?”
“Very much,” she says, passion saturating her words.
The prince waits, examining her face with new interest. “You’re the Crimson Shadow.”
“Ha!” she cries with contempt. “Does he really call me that?”
“No. But he’s told me enough about you to recognize you anywhere. And my father... I heard him mention you once. It seems you’ve met as well?”
“Yes.” Her voice has an amused, yet hateful edge. “We have a too history, your father and I. Let’s just say, it will end with fire and blood!”
The prince pales. “So— so you plan to kill me to exact your revenge on my father?”
Bellator scoffs. “He’ll suffer for his own crimes. No, I’m actually in the middle of an urgent quest and have come to you for assistance.”
The prince looks like he’s going to decline, but thinks better of it. He heaves a sigh. “What do you want from me?”
“I’ll cut straight to the chase. Do you know where the ruins of the ancient castle of Arnon are located?”
Hamish stares at her. “Arnon is a myth.”
Bellator flips her knife in her hand. “You’re not a very good liar.”
Putting the blade to his neck, she slits the laces of his tunic and jerks apart the folds of his shirt to reveal a long, jagged scar that starts at his collarbone and makes its way down his chest.
“What about this, then?”
He gulps. “How do you know about my scar? And why would it have anything to do with Arnon?”
“Why do you think, son of Leonel?” She spits out the king’s name with added venom. “I was the monster that gave it to you!”
“You?” he stammers. “But I thought—”
“That there was a savage beast guarding the scary castle?” she scoffs. “Don’t be daft! My old master doesn’t appreciate little boys wandering around in places they shouldn’t be. Naturally, he sent me to scare the little boy away, and hurting you was the only way to keep you away for good.”
“Then you should know where it is already! Why do you need my help?”
“My master never trusted me with all the information. He teleported me there, and when the task was done he used the same method to bring me back. I’m honestly going off of guesswork that the castle is even in this forest.”
Hamish shudders in spite of himself. “I pray that nothing so dark lurks anywhere else in this land.” His voice descends into unconscious despair as he delves into his memory. “The emptiness. The cold. All this time, it has clung to me like a leech, remaining to haunt my dreams
. Once it has touched you, it... it does not let go.”
His eyelids close, his features twisting in an expression of deep pain. Marianna’s face melts and she looks like she wants to reach out and comfort him.
“I know of the darkness of which you speak, young prince.” Bellator’s voice has gone unusually soft, hoarse almost, and her eyes are haunted with the same pain that riddled the prince’s voice. “My goal is to end this spot of darkness. I long to. But you need to tell me where the ruins are.”
I can’t tell whether she’s truly genuine.
“Ha!” the prince scoffs. “I feel the evil you claim to fight shrouding you and every action you take!”
“I use whatever means I must,” Bellator responds, the chill returning to her tone. “Tell me where the ruins are located, now!”
Hamish shakes his head. “You don't understand! Even if I showed you where the castle is, you wouldn’t be able to find it.”
“Explain!”
“After I recovered from my injuries, I tried to relocate the castle to show it to Jambeau. But it was nowhere to be found. The space where it had been was empty.”
“All I need is the location of the castle. I have all I need to proceed beyond that point right here.” She glances sideways at me.
“You honour me,” I say acidly.
“Shut up!”
The prince turns his lilac eyes up to Bellator. “I have read the myths surrounding the castle,” he says. “I would not trust someone like you with such power.”
“Better me than the Lord of Gaiztoak, who will use us to get to the arrow if we're not careful. Besides,” she jerks her head toward me, “the arrow belongs to him, not me.”
He glances at me, unconvinced.
“Listen,” I say, stepping forward, “I swear, if you lead us to where you last saw the castle, we’ll let you go. On my word of honour, whether Bellator wants to or not.”
Bellator narrows her eyes at me.
Hamish glances from me to her. “You will free both of us? Let us return home unharmed?”
Bellator gives a nonchalant shrug. “If we find the ruins, yes. If not, I'll finally have the leverage that I’ve always wanted against your father. And if you even think of betraying me, your lovely lady will be the first to go.”
“I do not intend to trick you. I have that much honour.” His gaze wanders back to me. “But if something happens to me in the process, you have to promise that you will return Marianna home safely.”
Although he acts as if he is addressing Bellator, I know that he is asking me, half-breed to half-breed. I give him a hardly discernible nod.
Bellator raises an eyebrow in mock sympathy. “No harm will come to her so long as you both cooperate.” She bends down and picks up his sword, sliding it into the sheath on his belt. “Now, lead the way, lord prince.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I
’ll bring up the rear with the damsel in distress,” Bellator says as she snatches her bow out of my hands and arms herself with it once more. “The half-prince will lead the way in front with you. Understood?”
I nod.
“Make sure to guard him well. If he escapes...” Her voice trails off, leaving me to imagine all of the horrible things she might do to me if he does. Then she turns back to the others.
I put my hand on her bracer to stop her, and instantly regret it. She grabs my wrist, her eyes fiery.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break your arm,” she growls.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I blurt. “It’s— I was just— I was wondering about— about your magic!”
It is an obvious lie, but I’m afraid she really would snap my arm if I followed through with my plan to confront her about the way she’s been treating our prisoners.
She raises an eyebrow. “What about it?”
I talk fast. “Just... how it works. You’re incredible with it, and I just wanted to know when I’ll... I’ll be able to do similar things with mine.”
Suspicion rises and she glances at the prisoners to make sure they’re staying put. Satisfied, she releases my wrist.
“It’s complicated,” she says gruffly. “As an elemental, you will learn that there are many elements, most of which are only able to be used by their specific Vaelhyrean keepers. Most magic wielders simply tap into the basic earth elements using spells. I can do this, as well as use the small shreds of elements I inherited.”
I hesitate. “What element do you think I’ll be able to use?”
“My assumption is that, because of the power my old master claims that you possess, you will have the ability to use one of the five key elements; fire, lightning, water, earth, and air.” She eyes me carefully. “I haven’t seen enough of your magic to have an idea. Who knows? You might’ve inherited an element all your own.”
“Which means...?”
“It means the element your Vaelhyrean parent used will be passed to you through blood.” She glances at the royals again. “But enough with the questions. We have a castle to find before nightfall.”
We rejoin the captives.
The prince looks at us through the clump of ebony hair sticking in his eyes. “The castle should be located approximately two miles east from here, at the edge of the Tireth River.”
Bellator squints in the direction that he gestured. “Anything to avoid?”
He shakes his head. “No. Gerithold is south from here.”
“You’d better hope that’s true.” Turning to me, she jabs her thumb in the prince’s direction.
I nod, shoulders sinking, and gesture for him to take the lead. “Take us to it,” I order.
Hamish turns east, and plunges into the foliage, but not before casting me a disappointed glance. As if he expected more from me. As if I should expect more from myself.
I follow close behind him, while Bellator keeps Marianna in the back with her, showing enough kindness to remove the gag from her mouth.
I don’t like this. Any of it. I mean, kidnapping? I never signed up for that! Did I?
I know I swore to end the spell on the arrow, no matter what. I can’t break my word.
But how far is Bellator going to go? How far will she force me to go? Then again, how far am I willing to go? If it were just my life on the line... but it’s my freedom! I’m so close to getting the one thing I’ve ever dared to dream of.
Is that why I’m going along with this? Do I place my own freedom above the lives of others?
It disturbs me that I cannot answer.
As we go on, I find myself walking beside the prince. He certainly holds himself admirably. Though his hands are tied, his step is sure. His back is straight, his head held high as he struggles to retain as much of his pride as he can. Somehow, he maintains his confidence amid his fear.
“Why?” Hamish asks abruptly. “How could you willingly submit yourself to be her slave?”
“I’m not her slave,” I say, but my words sound hollow.
“So you mentioned. And yet you do as she says like she is your master.”
I glance over my shoulder. “She and I have an understanding. I work only for my freedom.”
“Yet for a cause you do not believe in?”
I stiffen. “What makes you think I don't believe in it?”
“Your heart is not in what you do.”
I recoil at the thought that I could be so easily read.
“Is there not a better way to achieve your goal than this?” he presses.
“If there was, I would be doing it. I owe her a debt, and this is the only way to pay it back.”
He seems to understand. “I am sorry.”
I sigh heavily. “No, I’m the one that’s sorry. I should never have gone along with capturing you.”
“Do not take this the wrong way, but I am unsure there was much you could have done to stop it.”
“No, I guess not.” I wait. “I’m Ealdred, by the way.”
“Hamish. If it were other circumstance
s, I am sure I would be delighted to meet you.”
“Likewise.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure Bellator is out of earshot. “I don’t mean to pry, but how is that that you’re a prince and also a half-breed? I didn’t know it was possible.”
He frowns, lines of sadness forming in his brow. “I am surprised you have not heard of me before. My father is considered extremely unfortunate, having a half-breed for an heir.”
“Why you?” I ask. “I’ve never heard of a half-breed ruling before.”
“Most kingdoms shy away from intermarrying with Lavylli, but it has been done before. One of my ancestors married a princess of Lavylli, and their son became the next king. The difference was that he had the golden hair. I do not.”
“Golden hair?” I echo.
“Yes,” he confirms. “Legend says it is a sign from the divine that the eldest son is worthy to rule Valamette. Every ruler of Valamette has had it. Even the half-breed king.” He sighs bitterly. “I will be the first king of my line in our history without it.”
“Oh.” I hesitate, not wanting to pry. “Why don’t you have it?”
He shrugs. “I am not the eldest. I had a brother: a twin, who was stillborn. The hair was supposed to pass to me upon his death, but it never did. I wish that it did not matter, but I know it does. One day, I will be king. I just need to prove myself to the people so they will want me.”
“I do not think it will be that hard,” I reassure him. “You're kind and brave, and that means more than all of the charm in the world.”
He smiles faintly. “Thank you. That means a—”
“Enough with the chatter already,” Bellator interrupts. “We want to get there before next month!”
The prince stiffens.
“Would it help if I told you she’s usually not this mean?” I say in an undertone.
The sky is a canvas of colours as the sun sits on the horizon. Thunder lingers in the distance, growing louder and louder as we near another bend of the Tireth River, filling the air around us and blocking out all other sounds. The trees thin, disappearing altogether as we come out into a wide clearing.
Hamish stops next to the last tree and glances around. “Yes. This is it.”
The clearing is barren and rocky, stretching out before being cut off by the gorge through which the river sweeps. There is no sign of life, or previous life, and there are certainly no ruins of a castle.
Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1) Page 20