by Vaiya Books
As for Ian, breathing a sigh of relief that his weird dialogue with Saku had ended, he turned his head slightly and saw her, charming face as wild as the clouds in the sky, fine scarlet hair falling down in ripples upon her shoulders, and sea green dress ruffling with every step she took. He was overcome. He felt traitorous to his kind to think it, but even Hazel or Tianna couldn’t compare to this elven woman.
Bashful, he tried to avoid eye contact. But it was too late. Her teal blue eyes met Ian’s, studying him as if he were a rare painting, as she took the open seat right in front of him, arms at her sides. After greeting him with the same expression Taishan had used earlier, she then asked inquisitively, “So, you are a human?” She focused her penetrating eyes on his ears, and then shifted to study the rest of his features, her spring flower perfume reaching him across the table.
“Yes, I am, Your Highness.” He blushed under her scrutiny, heart thumping louder.
His words amused her, or perhaps it was that and his embarrassment. Whatever it was, she laughed softly, and then, holding the pitcher, poured the blue liquid into his silver goblet, saying, “Ian, I feel honored to be visited by a human from so far away. Rarely do we see humans here, other than faint glimpses of pirates from Verandur being hauled off to the Nakar Dungeon. Your presence here is a refreshing breeze.”
Ian’s eyes widened, though he still kept a dry smile on his face. Was it her intention that her polite-sounding words actually made him feel worse than if she’d said nothing at all? Maybe it was just him, but grouping him up with imprisoned criminals had a sort of sickening effect, saying nothing of that fact that she brought up the issue of him coming here from so far away again, a theory she nor anyone here likely believed.
Thanking her for her unusual kindness, none of his suspicion showing, he picked up his goblet and drank from it, thirsty from all the running earlier. Raspberry juice mixed with vanilla extract and honey immediately engulfed his taste buds, overwhelming his senses.
Picking up a slice of the crispy golden bread, Ian bit into it, the taste of wheat and butter quickly flooding his taste buds. It was delicious--much better than his mom’s homemade whole grain bread.
Before he could relax for long though, the princess, smiling warmly, asking unexpectedly: “What kind of shampoo did you use, Ian?”
Unnerved, he felt his cheeks grow red, as he remembered the words of the messenger about him using the “lady’s room”. Here he’d not given much thought about the flowery scent on his skin but now he felt fully ashamed. No doubt, her parents and brothers thought even worse of him for this blunder. “I don’t know, Your Highness,” he finally muttered. “I just took the first one I could find.”
Her eyes brightened, as she blushed at his faux pas. “You made a good choice. Rose wild berry is one of my favorite scents.”
Embarrassment covered his face, as the two princes exchanged weird looks with each other; he didn’t care how she knew the scent--all he knew was that the subject had to change. “Thanks, I guess, Your Highness.” He bit his tongue, expecting her to continue this disgraceful topic.
But she didn’t. Seriousness in her eyes, replacing every semblance of her former humor, she turned her attention to more important matters: “So, where do you plan on going next, Ian?”
“I’m not sure, Your Highness,” he murmured, offering what sounded like a clear avoidance of the question. Watching her eyes grow from dim to instantly dark, he knew he had to clarify himself: “Though I may go to the Southern Isles once I’m done here.”
Nervous, as the princess’s bright eyes dimmed considerably, Ian set down his bread, his heart beating within him. He just wanted to make it through this feast without being accused again of being a spy and being dragged off to the Nakar Dungeon, or worse, being executed. The more he said though, the more he risked losing everything, as his true story would just seem like pure fiction. His only ally was ambiguity, yet even that could be construed as deception or hostility. He really didn’t have much of a chance.
Glancing at the princess, as her smile faded even further, Ian watched her brush a few strands of scarlet hair behind her ear, her elegant bearing no doubt keeping her from showing irritation.
As he waited suspensefully for her reply, her sober expression mixed with coldness as she pressed on. “And what do you plan on doing there?”
Ian probed his mind for a logical answer. “Meet people; make connections--just the usual, Your Highness.”
Looking thoroughly confused for a split second, the princess quickly composed herself. “And who might these people be?”
His heart pounded within him; how much longer could he keep up this facade? “You know,” he replied, light humor in his voice, “just normal citizens--nobody of any real importance, Your Highness.”
Pondering over his words for several seconds, Princess Saeya quickly changed the topic as if not knowing what to say:
“I’ve heard you’ve had a dark day, Ian,” she said, a mysterious tone in her voice.
Ian started, not liking the sound of her words. “What do you mean, Your Highness?”
She paused as if in deep thought. “Azadar has informed us that you’ve been pursued by the Elayans.” Her countenance grew grimmer at the mere mention of the sorcerers. She paused briefly, a glimmer of disgust in her teal blue eyes. “Would you mind telling me how you’ve escaped from them entirely unscathed?”
Ian hesitated, pondering over her harsh inquiry, as the king gazed at him ominously, as if awaiting his every word. “I don’t know,” he finally murmured, fear in his eyes, as he recalled the sudden attack of the three Elayan. “It all happened so fast.”
As he stopped, adrenaline rushing through him, he glanced around him and shuddered, extremely uncomfortable with the topic, and noticed King Kadeth leaning forward in his seat with an icy glimmer in his eyes, while Prince Taishan gazed at him with a faint irritation, likely hiding the deep-seated rage boiling up inside.
As for Prince Saku and Queen Jahla, both of their smiles had vanished when he’d mentioned the Elayans and they both now stared at him with deep interest mixed with traces of doubt in their eyes.
Hands trembling, as he realized that he was the sole center of attention, he noticed Princess Saeya staring at him.
“Could you explain yourself further, Ian?” she questioned gently, as if coaxing him, not showing any annoyance for his long pause or his short answer. “Surely you didn’t die or you wouldn’t be here.”
His mind wracked with anxiety, he somehow managed to keep his voice calm. “I do remember that they used some spells against me, Your Highness.” Pausing, he tapped his fingers against his tunic, not knowing how they’d react to his next words. “But for some reason, they didn’t have any effect on me.”
As his voice faded away, all the elves around him stared at him in silence, the king’s eyes frozen with bleakness.
Before Kadeth could reply though, the princess spoke up, her face emotionless. “Are you a Chardin then, Ian?”
Chardin? He stared at her blankly, the word still not registering. “I don’t know, Your Highness.”
“You don’t know?” she murmured softly, her eyes tinted with sudden bewilderment, as she exchanged mystified looks with her brothers. “I do not understand. Surely you’ve heard the word before.”
Ian felt a wave of anxiety rush over him. “Actually, I don’t think I have, Your Highness.”
Her face grew rather astonished at these words, especially considering she was of a race that was rather good at hiding their emotions. “By the Mazian Ocean,” she whispered skeptically, “you’ve truly never heard about the Chardin Academy in Sarith?”
He gave her a glazed look and a shrug, causing her face to light up with faint contempt.
“Impossible,” she said, tapping her sandals softly on the floor. “Is your heart inside of a river?”
Frowning inwardly at the weird expression, he replied as best as he could, “Probably, Your Highness.” He then took ano
ther drink of the raspberry, honey liquid, a frustrated look on his face, hoping she’d now explain to him what in the world a Chardin was.
Unfortunately, however, her face only grew more solemn, as she stared at him without any trace of humor. “If your story about the Elayans is true, Ian, then you are definitely a Chardin--and a very powerful one as you didn’t even use any artifacts to protect yourself.
“However,” she continued, gazing at him darkly, while adjusting the emerald tiara on her forehead, “as we all know that the Elayans have died out centuries ago, there is only one possible reason left.” Here she paused, deathly coldness in her eyes, before she continued, her compassionate nature pushed to the dark crevices of her mind, “Though I have generously overlooked your deceitful tongue, Ian, this lie is far too dangerous to disregard.”
Before Ian had time to recover from the shock of her words, she spoke again:
“Surrender the facade, Ian. You have nothing to prove. You’re not the first one to claim to have seen the Elayans, nor will you be the last. Even though I do not believe you to be a spy,” here she glanced over at King Kadeth, who returned her steady gaze with an equally solemn one, “you are, nonetheless, the most unethical human I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’ve never even seen an ill-bred pirate as vile as you.”
As she finished speaking, anger immediately flung open Ian’s heart, her false charges maddening him. Sure, he’d not always been the most truthful person, but to say that he was the most unethical person she’d ever seen, that he was worse than a pirate? That was way too harsh. And here he’d thought the princess more attractive than Hazel. To hear these brutal words from her, it felt like betrayal.
Biting into a large piece of an almond, chocolate, and pumpkin flavored roll to try to calm his nerves, Ian saw a dark shadow flickering in the king’s eyes, as he set his eyes eerily upon Ian.
“Come with me!” the king ordered sharply to Ian, as he motioned to his sons to follow him.
Ian blinked, fear penetrating his heart, his heartbeat suddenly rapid and pounding. The feast wasn’t nearly over yet. He’d hardly eaten anything. Whatever the king wanted to say to him wasn’t going to be good.
Getting off his chair promptly, as hushed whispers from the richly dressed nobles on the other three long tables spread rapidly throughout the banquet hall, Ian quickly followed behind the king and his two sons, his eyes locked on the floor, not even caring to keep a huge gap between them anymore as he thought it irrelevant now, while at the same time trying desperately to ignore all the gossip and the intent stares.
As the king led Ian through various corridors and hallways, they eventually reached a silver door, which the king immediately opened, commanding Ian to enter it.
Torment raging in his mind, Ian hurried into the small-enclosed room as his mind shook with terror--he’d never been so scared before. The room, without any windows, having only a long round table and ten bronze chairs around it, as well as several drab-looking paintings of fortified towers, looked the ideal room for another interrogation, or perhaps even an execution. Its cold gray walls pounded away the faintest glimmers of his happiness.
As he stared around the lifeless room, his heart now thumping within him, the king motioned him to take a seat around the table. Obeying promptly, Ian quickly pulled out a chair and sat on it, while the king and the princes all took seats across from him, with the king right in the center of them.
Staring at him morbidly, now that they had all taken their proper seats, King Kadeth put his hands upon the table, as his eyes grew narrower. “Ian,” he said, frowning deeply, once the door had been shut by a guard. “Why did you lie to me?”
In agony, Ian felt like he’d been whipped. “What do you mean, Your Majesty?”
The king gave him a sharp look. “You confessed that you were a fool; that you never saw the Elayans.” Here he leaned forward, closer to Ian, his voice, although calm and collected, raging with hidden fury. “And yet moments ago you claimed to have seen them again.”
Ian’s eyes widened, terror screeching in his mind at his grave mistake, a mistake he should’ve never made, as he was unusually consistent in his stories. How he could have so quickly forgotten his previous confession to the king, he didn’t know. Was his memory that bad? Or was he just so stressed out from the trauma of the day that it somehow slipped his mind?
Whatever the case, he’d unknowingly put himself into a horrible dilemma as just minutes before he’d admitted that the Elayans had chased him and had cast spells at him. To deny that he’d seen them now would be akin to insanity. The king would never believe him after he’d already changed his word twice.
This left him with but one option, one he desperately wished to avoid and had sought to avoid but could do so no longer. As much as it pained him, he’d have to stick with his first story.
Besides, if the sorcerers he’d seen were really the Elayans, he would be doing the elves a huge favor, warning them about their enemies’ whereabouts, powerful enemies they didn’t even think existed. His caution about the Elayans might even save some lives.
With those thoughts, light breaking through his misery, Ian folded his hands, a sober innocent expression like that of a pious priest dawning on his face. He glanced around him nervously; the king was growing extremely impatient and looked ready to have him beaten.
Gathering his thoughts together, Ian exhaled deeply, dreading the effect his next words would have on them, while questioning if this were truly the only wise way to go about this: “Your Majesty,” he began softly with a dignified air about him, “I shouldn’t have lied to you, but I was afraid of what you would do to me if I didn’t.” Seeing their already grave faces, he bit his tongue and said no more, as silence of the worst sort permeated the room.
The princes sat transfixed in their chairs, barely even breathing, Prince Taishan’s face unreadable, Prince Saku’s unusually solemn, while King Kadeth gazed coldly at Ian, his face covered in mists of darkness.
After an eerie quiet, the king calmly lifted himself from his chair and swiftly extracted a scroll from his robe. His eyes bored into Ian’s. “Do you have any idea how much chaos would erupt in our kingdom if the Elayans were found to be alive?”
Ian bit his lip, his voice trembling: “No, Your Majesty,” he muttered truthfully, having the sudden urge to flee from Kadeth’s presence.
The king just gazed at Ian bitterly. “Then let me explain.” He unraveled the scroll and placed his long finger on a worn-out portion of it. Two thin lines appeared on the sides of his face. His forehead wrinkled. “Three centuries ago during the Calri War, when my great grandfather Aridon Riverstone ruled the kingdom, the Elayans ruthlessly murdered all of my family members except me, nearly extinguishing the royal line.” A myriad of horror patterned his face, as his voice grew louder. “I hate them for what they have done to me, to my family, to my people, to my kingdom!”
Ian’s heart froze, while the princes stared down at the table, not making eye contact with anyone.
Before he could blurt out an apology though, the king’s face burned with black wrath as he vented his boiling anger: “No more lies!” he yelled, his brow chiseled with fury, a huge contrast to his former calm demeanor, as his two sons stared at him with glazed astonishment--they’d likely never seen him so upset before. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you are worse to us than ten thousand criminals.”
Ian’s tongue clung to his mouth; guilt filled his heart--he truly felt like a serial killer.
Before Ian could even catch his breath, the king hurled out a fierce command: “Never mention the Elayans again. I have far too many problems as it is without them interfering.” Scorching Ian with a malevolent look, Kadeth stormed towards the metal door. Just about to leave, he stopped as the door burst open and a messenger entered.
“Blessings and strength, Your Majesty.” He bowed low to the ground, backing away reverently from the king, before completing his assignment. “An ambassador from Verandu
r desires to speak with you.”
“Verandur? What do they want with us?” He tightened his lips, his face quickly resuming its regal mask, his fiery fury completely buried.
“I do not know her full intent, Your Majesty. But I do know she wants to make an alliance with us.”
The king’s eyes danced with dark light, his face growing rigid and somber. “Bring her in.” He then turned around and faced his eldest son. “Escort Ian to the garden room, Taishan,” he commanded. “And bring him to the sun chamber promptly at dew hour. Master Thargon will be testing him.”
“Thargon Windblade?” inquired Taishan, fear making his usually strong voice quiver. “In truth, Your Majesty?”
“In truth,” he uttered spitefully. “I would have no one else.” He gave Ian a sharp look, then turning to his son, quietly flung out his left arm to the side, signaling the end of the conversation.
Gravely, the elder prince gestured to Ian to follow him by stretching out his right hand towards his own feet, before leading him out of the room down a grand hallway with murals of sunlit forests, bubbling springs, lovely elven princesses and handsome elven princes.
Moving further down the corridor, until they were out of the guards’ earshot, Taishan spoke, whispering into his ear: “Ian, your life is in the wolf’s jaws. Master Thargon is a mighty sorcerer recently banished from the palace for abusing his power.” The prince paused eerily, as a thick pervasive darkness spread over the conversation. Then he continued, “Do you know why he was banished?”