Harris, I would take that offer,” she said with a laugh.
She had saved Harris the embarrassment of royal
scathing.
Harris did not like the thought of being without
Branwen. He knew how it felt now, he knew
Branwen’s feelings were real, so were his, but he could
not admit it. His head was aflame with thoughts of
what they could possibly do, each plan he thought of
led back to the same conclusion, it would never end
well.
His orders were to leave at the end of the turn, he
would be in Cronnin for Onmidden. Branwen would
soon be a distant memory, but she would be the best
and worst memory he had.
The task was at hand to begin the transition from
one commander to the next. Harris had chosen Anna
to take his place, she was utterly shaken to hear such a
thing, he had taught her all he could. Lister was
pleased to hear that Anna would be taking Harris’s
place. Brenin remained in Marrion for a further three
days before returning, Afie was impressed to see the
work Harris had done, although his tactics were very
disagreeable, she was an adviser to the king, not the
commander.
Branwen felt a crushing depression. Each night she
was not in the arms of Harris seemed like a night
wasted. She knew he was right, and that their union
would only anger her mother. She was destined to be
with someone of superior breeding, not a commander.
With their efforts realised, Afie and Brenin began
making their way back. Their journey seemed
pointless, but it had given them both the needed break
they were both craving. A pleasing journey back
awaited them. With the Sonnin third now residing in
Marrion until the end of the battle, Brenin was
comforted to know that soon Harris would be joining
the Kings Guard, the new appointed title of High
Chief Commander to the Kings Guard would pay
handsomely, but Harris no longer cared for title or
coins, he cared for something much more expensive.
A quiet knock at Branwen’s door startled her. The
warm night brought no sleep. She walked to the door,
opening it, she saw Harris, his arm was leaning on her
doorframe, disheartened, despondent, he looked to
the floor, his spirit was routed. He had spent the day
preparing for his departure. Branwen opened her
door for him to enter. He stepped inside; she could
think of nothing to say to him.
“I can’t do this,” he croaked. His voice had
broken; he had broken.
“Can’t do what?” asked Branwen. She walked
towards him, taking his hand she entwined their
fingers.
“I can’t live in a lie,” he raised his brows and rolled
his head. His voice was gentle, “I don’t want to leave
here, but it’s because I don’t want to leave you.”
She looked into his deep green eyes, a tear settled,
refusing to fall from his hardened face. “You have
your path, and I have mine,” she softly said, “this is
not the last I have seen of you, Harris Bearwood.”
Her smile warmed him. Her soft, delicate skin
invited him. “I need you, Branwen,” he admitted,
“when I first met you, I was not afraid of death.” His
honesty seemed more compelling than ever. “But
now, death terrifies me. How can I live without you,
having known you, your touch, your taste, your love?”
Branwen was overwhelmed by his honesty. The
harsh reality had finally hit him, he loved her, yet he
still would not say those words.
“Harris, this is a short separation,” she softly said;
she tried to comfort him as she gave a warm laugh, “I
will return to Sonnin, a day’s ride from Cronnin.” Her
excitement seemed to fall cold on Harris. “We will
always find a way to be together.”
Harris slowly walked with Branwen towards her
bed, lowering themselves down, he held her close.
What seemed like the best part of his life was slowly
ending, it was a painful blow. Being right was
something Harris would never get used to.
The summer turns brought a bustling array of
wildlife to the gardens of the Cronnin palace. Librye
had released her grip on the east tower to enjoy the
gardens more. Her ever growing need to learn had
seen her through thousands of books in Brenin’s
chambers. Mord had already started a new collection
of books for her.
Mord stepped onto the patio of the gardens, she
had seen Librye leave earlier that day but had seen no
sign of her since.
Making her way towards the back meadow- where
she knew Librye loved to be- she soon came upon a
sight she never wanted to see. The wolves in the
kennels howled as loud as they could, Mord was
disturbed by the sound as she reached the path into
the meadow. She saw a heap on the ground as Librye
lay on the dirt path, unconscious. Mord ran towards
her and dropped to her knees.
“Librye!” she called. She turned her onto her front
slightly to see if it was her back, but nothing, no sign of
blood. Mord lifted her and quickly carried her back
towards the palace. Upon reaching the patio she
looked to the guard at the side. “Call for the
alchemist.” Her insistence panicked the guard upon
seeing the lifeless child in her arms.
Running to her room, Mord placed Librye into
her bed. She paced the room; her hands caught her
chin as she waited for the alchemist to enter. The door
burst open; the panicked guard walked into the room
with the old alchemist following.
Godfrey was the trusted palace alchemist, well
known in the palace, he was a good man, and
incredibly old. His age was a tender reminder that
time could be beaten. His frail frame was like an old
willow tree, a wispy grey beard lay proud down his
front, his old brows towered past his eyes, he had
beaten time.
“How long has she been like this?” asked Godfrey
as he looked to Mord.
Mord shook her head. “I found her on the lane to
the meadow, she was completely passed out, I don’t
know how long she’s been there.”
His eyes widened as he inspected Librye. Godfrey
said with a high tone, “She is still breathing, Mord, but
something strange is in this child, something I cannot
explain.” His confusion grew as he tried to open her
eyes. Her eyes struck him as he stood back, it was the
quickest he had moved for years. Her eyes were as
black as night, not a single sign of white, but within her
blackened eyes, a swirling image of stars had taken
over. “Star child.”
Mord wrapped her arms around her waist. “What
did you say?”
Godfrey turned to the guard. “You, come here,”
he insisted, “none of you are to speak of this,” he
looked to Mord, “keep her in her room unti
l she
wakes, when she does, entertain her in here, do not let
her out.” His panicked state was strange, the mystery
only grew as he quietly said, “She is to remain here,
until Harelda arrives.”
“Harelda?” asked Mord, “why would Harelda be
coming here?”
Godfrey stood as straight as his old bones would
allow. “Because she is fey, the waking of magic in this
world is always noticed by them, she is coming, and
she is coming fast.” His words carried a warning.
Marrion was working without the help of Harris
now, for three days he had remained deep in his
chambers awaiting the final day of Duir. He would
arrive back during the Onmidden festivals. A time of
year for great celebrations. Still, he felt wrong for
leaving. Having spent days with Branwen in his arms,
he did not want to let her go. Her chastity remained
intact.
The nights of Marrion were as hot as the day. The
few gathering in the courtyard watched as Branwen left
her room and headed towards Harris’s chambers.
They dare not speak ill of The Commander, they
knew that Harris was gifted with his ability to hear,
instead they averted their eyes, pretending that they
had seen nothing.
“Come in, Bran,” said Harris as he sat up in his
bed, awaiting her arrival.
Her thick cotton nightgown always made him
smile. Even in his company, she tried to retain her
modesty. He tapped the side of the bed for her to join
him.
“You have little time left now,” her excitement
baffled him.
“True, like you mentioned though, you will only
be in Sonnin, eventually.” His need to touch her
irresistible skin took over as he reached towards her
and stroked her shoulder.
“I have an idea,” she sheepishly said. Harris raised
his head to listen. “You once said, Brenin would make
a suitable husband, he seems nice, pleasant enough,
that way, I would be in the palace at all times, with
you.”
Harris glared to the wall in front of him with a
sarcastic tone he replied, “Possibly, the most insane
thing, you’ve ever said.”
Branwen reached out and touched his chest, she
untied the string of his tunic. “It’s an option,” slowly
she leant forward, she closed her eyes to kiss him.
His eyes remained open. Sitting back, he stroked
her face. “We cannot be together, after this,” he softly
said. His tone of regret was crushing.
Branwen had a bravery in her voice, she faced
Harris and pushed him to lay on the bed.
“Then let us make our memories last.” She stood
and allowed her nightgown to float to the floor, gently
she climbed onto the bed.
Harris could feel every part of his emotions clash,
he wanted Branwen, in every sense possible, but he
knew what this could do to both of them; she
straddled him, she could feel him growing beneath
her. His breath was rushed, sweat had already started
to appear on his brow, he unconvincingly muttered,
“We shouldn’t.”
Branwen leant down and kissed his neck. “I saved
myself for the man I love.” She sat up on him, her
irresistible beauty was staggering to him, his mouth was
open in awe as he felt her chest and breasts. “I am
doing exactly that; I am giving myself to the man I
love.” Her nature took over, Harris was wrong, she
knew exactly what she was doing, the passionate
writhing from both of their bodies entwined in his
sheets, rang in the night. Sweat covered them both in
the hot Marrion night as they both took in all the
pleasure they could find before they were parted.
Xencliff was a place of passion, Harris was the
embodiment of Xencliff. Branwen wanted to feel
every bit of him, being inside of her only made her
want him more. She needed him, she wanted to feel
him, the touch of his lips, the taste of his kiss, his
smell, his passion, she wanted everything, and she had
it all, for one night.
Branwen finally had her wish, she had given her
chastity, regardless of how her mother would feel. Still,
she wanted Harris in every way possible, but it was
something he was refusing to accept. He wanted her
for himself, but he knew that would not be possible.
She was destined for someone great; he was a nobody
with a title.
Chapter Ten Star Child
“Do you believe she is the child of the stars?” Harelda
asked. Sat with Grendel in her wide, intricately
decorated white carriage. Drawn by her five shining
white reindeer. Her need for extravagant travel was
clear. The gilded carriage quietly made its way south
towards Cronnin, small villages and farms took great
pleasure when seeing the queen’s carriage, it had been
many years since she had made such a journey.
“I believe she is something, as I told you, she holds
promise.” Grendel was used to travelling alone. “I
could do this alone.” He glared from the window,
refusing to even look at Harelda.
Harelda gave a slow blink, her usual mystique had
faded slightly since leaving the magic of Sonnin. “I
have been confined to Sonnin for thirty years, it is one
journey, there and back, if this Librye, is the child of
the stars, I need to know, I will need to be involved at
all times.” Her raised brows sent a warning to
Grendel. “So, your mood ends here.”
“If she is the child of the stars, majesty, she will
need more than the fey to guide her.” The carriage
continued to thunder towards Cronnin, the roads were
clear, the soft sun had kept the roads dry, small shoots
of green grasses brightened the landscape. Her
soldiers knew that Harelda would not allow for them
to stop. “The child of the stars is the beginning of the
end. Set to change this world, the child is said to be a
creature of Cammbour, made from all the creatures
here, perhaps the cruelty of the Atlanti, the knowledge
of the dragons, the magic of the fey, power of the
pooka, compassion of feyman, even the mabeara, their
power over the mountains, these are all things we are
yet to discover.”
Harelda snapped, “She needs testing, Grendel!”
she suddenly calmed, “to see if she has the merrow’s
gift of the waters, the ggelf’s secrets, the torbs…” she
struggled to think.
“The torbs need to be perpetually pissed?”
laughed Grendel. Harelda could not help but smile.
The light-hearted travel had done some good to
Harelda, her eyes and skin had brightened. She
seemed more normal than her usual mystifying self.
“Her ailment is proving to be some form of torb, I
believe she will be the creature of Cammbour who is
born with wings, the gods know that the torbs have
been trying for a
while, they will be pleased.”
Her tone turned to one of annoyance. “She is not
to be forced into anything, if she is the child of the
stars, she is dangerous, she must be tamed.”
Grendel gave a seething look towards her. “She is
not some creature, Harelda, she is a child, she is not a
wild animal to be tamed by the mabeara, she is the
kings ward, we must all treat her as such, given time,
love and compassion, the child will flourish into the
woman, she is destined to be, without force from us.”
Harelda sat for a moment, she contemplated his
words, she remembered his title. “I know you’re right,
Grendel, often, I neglect to focus on your title, as fey,
our power over the otherworld often clouds our views
of this one, this is why I have you here, keep my focus,
Grendel, for goodness sake, do not let my mind stray.”
Her smile grew towards him.
Grendel sat forward; he took her delicate hand in
his. “My duty is to protect your mind, together, the
child will become everything she is intended to be, by
ways of the gods.”
The carriage thundered through the gates of the
Cronnin palace. A guard ran inside, he ran through
the door to the council halls, interrupting a meeting.
“What is the meaning of this?” snapped Ryan as
he stood in the centre of the floor.
The guard caught his breath, a panicked look on
his face concerned them. “Apologies, my lords, the
queen has arrived,” he announced. Uproar began,
they had not been expecting a visit and were vastly
unprepared.
Bursting from the palace the councillors stood on
the step to greet their queen. Standing to the side they
took a knee as best they could, allowing her to pass
through the centre of them. She walked up the path,
holding her flowing purple dress she made her way
into the palace. The guards each took a knee as she
walked into the palace hall. Mord stood on the stairs,
as soon as she laid eyes on the mighty queen Harelda,
she ran as fast as she could to where Librye still slept.
Kailron stepped in from the porch outside. “Your
highness,” he gave a deep bow towards her, “such a
pleasure to have you here.” He stood and walked
towards Harelda.
Her posture remained one of strength and power.
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