by Sara Fields
“I… I know what happened to Princess Irena,” she whispered, while facing the floor. “I saw what made her lose her memory.”
The low whispers around the room silenced immediately at her words. Everyone seemed to move in closer, desperate to hear what she had to say.
“Forgive me, sir,” she apologized as she cleared her throat. “I was changing the sheets in Princess Irena’s room and she was changing, getting ready to go to bed. I usually sleep beside her in the closet and it was dark, but the moonlight lit up the room a little bit. It was late, but I heard the door squeak and it woke me up. I’m a light sleeper, you see. Anyways, there were two people that came in the bedroom. One of them woke up Irena with a spell and poured some sort of potion down her throat. The other stood guard. She was sound asleep, and wouldn’t wake up no matter how much the two poked her. Then um…”
“What happened next, sweetheart?”
“A group of surly looking men came in. I was too scared to say anything, but they took the princess and the next day she was missing and I never saw her again, at least until today.”
“Who were the two people that were in her room, Haylee? Who did this to Princess Irena?”
“I… It was…”
“Tell me, Haylee. I promise you will be safe in my care, no matter who it was.”
“It was Tiberius and Sofia, sir.”
Not a single word was said for a long moment. Darrius stared back at the king with bated breath, seeing Sofia try to slink away out of the hall. He grinned when he saw two surly guards grasp her forearms, pinning her where she stood.
“Tiberius!” the king yelled. “You will remove the curse from my daughter right now! Guards! Seize him this instant! He is not to leave this room.”
The sorcerer bowed his head, brandishing a potion out from the pockets of his wizard’s robes.
“I’m so sorry, my king. I made the antidote just in case the first potion didn’t work as expected,” Tiberius lamented, his expression one of guilt and sadness. “I apologize, my beautiful Princess Sofia.”
“Why did you do such a thing? I’ve always taken care of you!” the king said, his voice full of disbelief.
Tiberius lifted his eyes toward Sofia and she shook her head harshly. She glared back and muttered, “Don’t you dare,” under her breath, nearly snarling in his direction.
“I can’t hide this anymore, Sofia. It isn’t right,” Tiberius conceded as his face fell. “You see, I’ve loved Princess Sofia for as long as I can remember. She’s beautiful and when she approached me, I couldn’t refuse. She promised that once her sister was gone, that she would marry me and I would be king and she would be queen. We would finally be together. Only… I… I could hardly stand what happened to Irena. I’ve felt so guilty for her disappearance. I’m glad to see that she is back and well. I’m terribly sorry for what I’ve done. I’ll accept whatever punishment you deem fit.”
“Heal my daughter right away. Tomorrow, you will stand trial and we will decide what to do with you,” the king declared with forced composure. The sorcerer nodded and hurried over the confused Irena.
He offered her the small vial of liquid and urged her to drink. Hesitantly, she took the bottle, before bringing it to her lips and drinking it down in a single swallow. He could see the sparkle of magic as it disintegrated around her, breaking down the barriers that blocked her mind from her past life. She blinked quickly a few times before looking out at the crowd, quiet understanding passing over her features.
“I remember everything,” she whispered sadly.
Her cool, terrified eyes appraised the crowd and he could feel his heart breaking. She would know all of what he had tried to hide. He was a necromancer.
Darrius hung his head into the seat of his palms. His identity would no longer be a mystery to her. His Irena, his baby girl would look at him no longer in love, but in terror. She would think he only wanted her because of his magic, to carry on his magical bloodline and that he didn’t truly love her.
He knew he would have to choose a woman soon, else the magic within him would betray him. He had thought Irena would be that woman, but he knew that wouldn’t happen now that she had her memory back. He could not force the woman he loved to bow to him. He couldn’t stand to see her cower from him in fear. That would be too much for him to bear.
He saw the corner of her eyes crinkle and her brow furrowed with frustration. She gazed out over the crowd, a sadness apparent with her every movement. His heart ached as a tear rolled down her cheek. It took everything within him to stand up and walk away. She’d be better off without him. If she feared him, he would only hurt her.
Necromancers weren’t meant to have a happy ever after. Throughout history, when a necromancer took a woman for his wife, his magic took a hold of her, stripping her of her identity and her sense of self. The woman that was left was nothing but a shell of what she was before, duty bound by his power to him in all ways. It was the reason men and women feared him, terrified for their daughters, wives, nieces, and friends. Once a necromancer chose a woman, she was his and only his, no matter who she was and where she came from.
There were stories throughout history of few necromancers in the past that overcame this phenomenon, but he doubted he could be one of them. With Irena’s memory fully returned now, he was certain that there would be terror in her gaze when she looked at him again. To avoid his magic taking over her, there could be no fear in his lover, only love. Now that she remembered and understood what he was, there was little hope for them. If there was even a shred of fear within her, there would be no chance for their future together. The return of her memory changed everything.
He couldn’t do that to Irena. He couldn’t destroy her sweet self. She was better off in royal hands than with him. She was better off a princess than his wife.
He made his way out of the royal hall. He couldn’t even look back, fearing his heart would shatter simply by meeting her gaze.
With a heavy swallow, he made the decision to leave the city. He’d watch over her from afar, make sure she was safe for the rest of her life. It was the least he could do for his little girl, since there was no possible way she would accept him as her husband. He had to do it for her as her daddy. It was his duty.
Chapter Thirteen
Irena tried as hard as she possibly could to keep from crying. She felt so alone. Her memories finally back, she found herself at a crossroads. Her old life was so different from her new one. Looking out over the crowd, she desperately tried to find Darrius, hoping her daddy was there to catch her. Her lip trembled when she couldn’t find him.
Her breath caught when she saw a big man wrapped up in a black cloak sneak out the door. The way he walked, how his large muscular shoulders swayed back and forth, his thick thighs as he moved confidently reminded her of him, yet there was something different about that man. Something broken. She shook off that familiar feeling, trying to grasp onto the gravity of her current predicament.
Darrius was a necromancer. She now knew what that meant, but she wasn’t afraid. She wanted him anyway, even if his magic would take over her. There was nothing more she wanted than to be held in his arms and kissed. To become his wife was her dream.
The next few days dragged past. Darrius never appeared, not even once. Irena felt numb to the world. Sofia had been confined to her room ever since the day in the Great Hall, under lock and key and a set of armed guards. Irena found out that an arrangement to marry off her sister was in negotiations, far away in another city where she couldn’t cause any more trouble to the royal family. Tiberius had been banished to the far reaches of the kingdom, never to be seen again. The one thing Irena made sure to do was to convince the king that Zed and Trey were released without any repercussions. She begged and pleaded with her father, telling him that the two were only hired help and had nothing to do with her disappearance.
The king begrudgingly took her word and released both Trey and Zed the next day. Irena watched from her
bedroom tower as they both rode away on their steeds. They looked back and she waved. With a simple nod of recognition, they turned away and rode outside the city walls. Irena wondered if she would ever see them again. Doubtful, she stared off at the mountains in the distance long after the two men disappeared.
Sighing, she allowed herself to be pulled away by the handmaiden serving her and dressed for the royal dinner. She was adorned with beautiful jewelry and silks, but it all felt wrong. No longer did she want any of it. Feeling empty inside, she did her best to hide her sadness, laughing at the right times and smiling at her giddy ladies in waiting.
One sunny day, a royal procession arrived. To her, it looked like a small army from her tower window. They were flying red and yellow colors, identifying the convoy as an arrival from the neighboring kingdom of Trabelon. Much to her dismay, she was forced into an extremely tight corset and dressed in one of the finest scarlet gowns she’d ever seen. A golden sash was pulled taut around her waist and tied with a bow. Looking in the mirror, she fought back tears as her maid laid a teardrop ruby necklace around her neck, latching it in place with a quiet click. Another maid came in her room to style her hair in a marvelous, time-consuming up-do, leaving a few ringlets to frame her face. Yet another, older woman painted her lips and rouged her cheeks. Irena hardly recognized herself. It felt like she was pretending to be a woman when all she wanted was to be Darrius’s little girl.
Irena had a terrible feeling about the whole charade. When she was guided downstairs, she noticed that the castle was decorated with flowers and tapestries, almost like there was some special occasion happening that no one had told her about. A bad feeling settled deep in her belly, one that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.
Led into the Great Hall, she balked when she finally realized what was going on. There was an altar at the front of the room, where a strange man and a priest waited for her. All her ladies in waiting were dressed in red gowns as well, although not as elegant as the one she was forced into. The man was dressed in clothing that bespoke of his own royalty.
He was a prince. There could be no doubt. Her father had arranged for her to be married off to this man. That was her fate, a loveless arranged marriage. She felt herself break a little on the inside. It was difficult to hold back her tears.
The prince turned toward her and a sly smile lit up his face as his gaze traveled up and down her body, leaving her feeling slimy. The man, while tall and well-built, was much older than her. He had to be close to his fifties, his dark hair and beard sprinkled with streaks of gray.
Her father took her arm and knelt to whisper in her ear.
“Don’t you dare ruin this. Your marriage is important for keeping the peace between Renvale and Trabelon. We’ve had one hundred years without war and it needs to stay that way.”
Unable to speak, she relented as he practically forced her down the aisle. It took everything within her not to break down and sob.
“What’s his name?” she asked numbly, before they reached the altar.
“Prince Mathias, I present to you my eldest daughter Irena. I gift you her hand in marriage as a measure of good faith.”
“I thank you, King Edward. I gladly accept your gift. I will cherish her forever in a manner fit for a queen,” the prince responded, unable to hide his smirk of glee. Irena shuddered; his look was the same as the goblins that had captured her weeks ago, like he couldn’t wait to roast her over an open fire just like they had wanted.
The wedding took place moments later and before she knew it, she was married to a prince. The two of them were ushered off to a readied bedroom, complete with white sheets and a multitude of soft quilts on a massive four-poster bed. Irena stood there, staring at the bed, no longer able to hold back her tears.
This couldn’t be happening, right?
The prince gripped her roughly around the waist and tossed her onto the bed, flat on her stomach. The sound of tearing fabric roared loud in her ears and she cried out in dismay. Soon enough, the prince had torn the dress off her, unlaced her corset in a rush, and left her feeling broken and terrified in naught but her chemise.
“Lift your ass and show me that royal cunt of yours,” he growled, his eyes narrowing with expectation.
Irena wept with sorrow, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I want my daddy,” she sobbed as the prince grabbed her, pushing her down on the satin quilt, his dirty fingernails scratching her skin as he rushed to lift her blouse.
The door behind them smashed open, pieces of wood flying every which way. Gasping in surprise, Irena jumped and her sobs quieted momentarily.
“Get the fuck off my girl,” a loud male voice roared.
Disbelief rang through her like ice water. Hope tore through her. It was her daddy!
“Darrius? Is that you?” she asked, blinking her tears away. Her vision slowly returned, she rushed to cover her body, hugging her knees into her chest. “Daddy, you came back for me.”
“I could never leave you, baby girl. We’ll talk later. For now, you’re coming with me.”
“Who do you think you are? I’m the prince of Trabelon. No one defies me!” Prince Mathias protested as he rapidly pulled his pants up around his waist.
“I do. As the current reigning necromancer, I claim Princess Irena as my own. Defy me, and I will kill you,” Darrius snarled as magical fire sparked around his clenched fists.
“But, she’s my wife! You can’t do this!” Mathias complained.
Hurling a fireball of magic in the man’s direction, Darrius roared with anger. The magical blaze flew narrowly past the prince and burned into the wall behind him, but it didn’t leave him unscathed. His pants lit on fire, turning to ash in a quick instant, leaving the man in nothing but a long nightshirt. Irena had to remember not to laugh when it revealed hairy thin legs beneath it.
“Get the fuck out. You’ll never lay a hand on my woman ever again, so help me God!” Darrius said, the tightness of his voice revealing just how barely constrained his anger was.
Irena leapt from the bed with relief, running toward Darrius and throwing her arms around his waist. She squeezed him tight, reveling in the feeling of his taut muscle hidden underneath his layers of cloth and leather. He had come for her after all. He truly loved her.
Darrius looked down at her and his eyes warmed. He tore the cloak off his shoulders and wrapped her up tight, before lifting her up in his arms.
“Princess Irena is mine. She is to be my wife and will bear the child that will carry on the necromancer bloodline.”
Irena looked around the room and saw the terrified looks on everyone’s faces. No one moved to defy Darrius as he carried her out of the bedroom, into the Great Hall and out of the castle. He tossed her up onto Regan and she felt his warm sturdiness beside her as he mounted the horse.
The two of them rode off into the dark silent woods and the starry sky overhead swallowing them into the dead stillness of night.
Irena’s entire body was still buzzing from the events of the night. She lay against the big horse’s throat for support, feeling the muscles beneath her stretching and tightening as he ran far away from Renvale. She turned her head and looked back toward Darrius.
“Daddy, you came back for me. I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her.
“I’ve been watching you with my sight, making sure you were safe and happy. When I saw what that man was doing, I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t see another man claim you as his. I wouldn’t stand for someone touching you like he did, forcing you into his bed without your love and trust, or your consent. It made me so angry.”
“I’m glad you came. I missed you.”
He smiled at him and she beamed.
“Quiet now, Irena, get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning,” he said, while placing his fingers over top of her eyes. She felt his power wash over her and she couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. Unable to fight the darkness, she fell
asleep in his arms as they rode off into the night.
She woke the next morning, alone in his bed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she happily rolled onto his side of the mattress. It still smelt of him, his smoky woodsy scent causing her body to flush with excitement.
Pushing herself up and out of bed, she pressed her feet to the cool wood floor. Looking around, she saw him, sitting beside the fire staring into the flames. Quietly, she padded over to him, hugging around his neck.
“I’m so glad to be back here.”
“I can’t allow you to stay here with me, sweetheart,” he said softly, his gaze sorrowful.
“What do you mean? I want you! I need you, Daddy!” she exclaimed, whirling around the chair to fall on her knees before him.
“I can’t allow my magic to destroy you, baby girl. You know what I am, don’t you? Aren’t you afraid of what I can do to you? Of what will become of you?”
She looked back at him for a long time in disbelief and finally shook her head.
“I could never be afraid of you. Sure, you have magical powers and a heavy palm when you spank my bare behind, but I’ve never feared you. Daddy, I love you and I want to be with you forever. I choose you. Take me as yours. There’s nothing more I could ever want. I don’t need royal dresses or super expensive necklaces. I want you.”
“Sweet girl. You don’t know what you’re asking for. A necromancer’s wife only lives to serve her husband. Whomever she was before is simply a shell of her former self. I can’t do that to you.”
“Daddy. Listen to me, I love you. Let go. You asked me to marry you before. I’ve refused to allow anyone to remove that ring. I’m not afraid,” she pleaded, while holding up her hand to show him.
His yellow eyes met hers, studying within her. She stared back, pleading with him to look within her and remember what the legends of the fairytales of love from long ago said.
“Use your sight, know that I’m not lying.”
She remembered some of the fairytales she’d been told as a child. Feeling Darrius’s gift draw her in, she replayed them in her head for him. One story in particular stood out in her mind.