“A beautiful woman should be adorned with beautiful things.” His lips against her ear. “I shall shower you with fine things for the rest of your life.”
At the sound of footsteps, they both looked up. Laythan cleared his throat, his eyes on Ertemis. “Your father would like you to join him. Lady Jessalyne, you may come with us if you like.”
Ertemis kissed Jessalyne’s temple as he stood, setting her feet on the ground. “If you don’t want to face Erebus, you don’t have to come in.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“After last night, it’s more likely the other way around.” Ertemis nodded to Laythan. “Lead the way.”
* * *
They entered as Erebus slammed his fist onto the table. “You cannot do this!”
Raythus stayed calm. “But I am. It’s time you meet your brother.” He gestured toward Ertemis.
Erebus spun around, his face clouded with rage. The crimson flush darkened like the underbelly of a thundercloud as he realized what other bloodline ran in Ertemis’s veins. Ertemis nodded, taking pleasure in seeing the man suffer who’d hurt his beloved. “Hello, brother.”
Erebus slammed his fist down again. “You expect me to accept this baseborn spawn as my brother? Never! I will not pay for your dalliance with some elven w-whore.” He sputtered with fury.
Jessalyne’s hand clamped onto Ertemis’s arm as he started forward, but he shook it off. He tightened his grip on his sword hilt. “Refer to my lady mother with such disrespect again and I will slice your tongue from your mouth.”
“Erebus, enough!” Raythus moved to stand between them. “Ertemis is my first born. He will marry the Blessed Bride and be crowned king. That is the end of this matter.”
“You would break my betrothal? Is there no end to your duplicity?” Erebus’s mouth curled into a sneer.
“I gave my blessing for her to marry my first born son. There is no duplicity.” He stared down Erebus’s fierce gaze. “The proclamation is written. It will be read in the great hall tonight when I introduce Prince Ertemis to the people of Shaldar.”
“So it is done, and I am cast aside.” Erebus was rigid with rage. He smoothed his velvet tunic, obviously trying to compose himself. “In truth, I’m happy to be free of the witchling bride.”
Ertemis growled and Erebus laughed bitterly. “You’ve been well matched, brother. A marriage made in Hael, to be sure.”
Raythus stepped back. “It doesn’t need to be like this, Erebus.”
“Yes. It does. I will not be made the fool in my own kingdom.”
“Where will you go? Do you want me to arrange for a delegation to travel with you? You could sail to Myssia as my emissary.”
“Your concern overwhelms me.” Sarcasm poured from Erebus’ words. He sneered at Raythus as he brushed past, keeping wide of Ertemis and Jessalyne.
He paused at the door. Straightening to his full height, he schooled his face to indifference. “The people will never accept this creature in place of me. I will always be the rightful king of Shaldar in their minds.” He pointed at Raythus, the slightest tremble betraying his attempt at apathy. “You will rue this moment, old man. Mark my words.”
Chapter Twenty
Blaring trumpets announced the processional as the king waited to make his way into the great hall. Almost three years had passed since he had dined amongst his people. How would they receive him? How would they receive the news of his newly discovered son?
He glanced back at Ertemis. Shrouded in a voluminous black cloak with the hood pulled low over his face, his son loomed like a shadow. In truth, he had some fear of the man, but also a great deal of sadness over what his life had been.
His gaze shifted to the beautiful woman beside his son. Like a beam of moonlight, Jessalyne radiated with an ethereal glow. Her hand rested on Ertemis’s arm as she offered him a slight smile. How perfect a pair.
The music changed. Raythus took a deep breath. The doors into the great hall were pulled open by a pair of valets wearing his colors. He went forward with head held high, smiling and nodding to greet his people. The crowd in the hall sat briefly stunned at the sight of him, but before he passed the first table, they stood as a whole and erupted with adulation.
Chants of “Hail the King” rang throughout the hall and eased his mind as he headed for the dais. Today was the start of new promise for Shaldar.
* * *
Through the parted doors, Jessalyne’s gaze swept the assembled mass. How they would react to the king’s news? What would the sight of Ertemis do to them? She turned her attention back to Raythus as he began to speak.
“Noble people of Shaldar, gentle folk of this great kingdom, I am so pleased that my return to good health allows me to join you in our great hall.”
Again, applause filled the room, echoing against the high mosaic ceiling.
Raythus raised his hand, stilling the crowd. “It is with even greater pleasure that I announce the most wonderful news. Many years ago you will recall I attempted to forge a union between Shaldar and Elysium. The elves sent a council here for many months as we worked on building this alliance. That much you know. What is not widely known is that one of the women in that council captured my heart. I promise you that she shared my feelings.”
The hall went deathly quiet, then a hum rose like a swarm of bees coming closer. The buzzing stopped when the king continued.
“With respect for this elfess, the most I will reveal is that a child was born of that love. Not just any child but my first born. A son I’ve just been reunited with.”
He looked back at Ertemis, still veiled in his cloak. Voice fraught with emotion, Raythus gestured toward the man beside her. “Fine citizens of Shaldar, nothing would please me more than to introduce you to my first born son and rightful heir to my throne, Prince Ertemis.”
Ertemis stepped forward, slipping his hood back as he did.
A collective gasp broke the silence as the crowd realized what Ertemis was. Whispers of “dark elf” and “halfling” murmured through the hall.
Raythus raised both hands to regain their attention. “Gentle folk! Please!”
When they had quieted enough, he spoke. “The wedding planned for just a few days from now is not being canceled, merely pushed back a week. The Blessed Bride has been promised to my first born son and in a fortnight’s time, my first born will indeed marry the lovely Lady Jessalyne. Tonight we feast in celebration of their troth!”
The cacophony of cheers and hoorahs erupted filling the great hall with happy noise once again. Jessalyne smiled as she and Ertemis made their way to the dais and their seats at the king’s side. The promise of a wedding feast and the king’s assurance seemed all the people needed to overlook Ertemis’s notorious reputation. Or perhaps it was Erebus’s displacement they cheered for.
Raythus quieted the assembly one last time. “Before the feasting begins, I must bring a serious matter to your attention. The matter of treason.”
Again, whispers hissed through the great hall.
“Through her vigilant observations, Lady Jessalyne discovered the affliction ailing me was due not to age or illness but a deadly poison. The traitor behind this poison was none other than my mage, Mistress Sryka. She now enjoys the full benefits of Castle Ryght’s dungeons.”
He turned toward Jessalyne. “For your fealty and courage, I bestow upon you the Star of Shaldar.”
Laythan came forward, a velvet pillow in his hands. Hung on white silk ribbon and embossed with the king’s crest, the Star rested on top of the pillow.
The king draped the medal around Jessalyne’s neck, kissing her on each cheek when he was through. “You’re like the daughter I never had, child. Thank you for all you’ve done for me,” he whispered.
“Thank you, Sire.” She curtsied, not sure what the proper response was to being honored in such a way. She looked from the medal around her neck to Ertemis. The pride in his eyes overwhelmed her with bittersweet emotion. In a day’s time she
had become betrothed to the man her heart desired and awarded the kingdom’s highest honor. If only her mother were alive to see her.
The next few days passed in a blur. After Jessalyne approved the invitations, royal scribes worked through the night to finish them. Messengers were dispatched to the furthest parts of the kingdom. She made sure their first stops were Fairleigh Grove and Warren on the Wick.
Dressmakers demanded Jessalyne’s time for fitting her wedding gown, cook sought her input on the menu for the feast, and when she wasn’t consumed with a myriad of other details, she poured over Sryka’s books, looking for a way to reverse the separation spell that had stripped Fynna of her wings.
“Found anything yet?” Fynna peered over the pile of cleaning supplies in her arms as she pushed open the door to Sryka’s old quarters with her elbow.
Jessalyne placed a leather ribbon between the pages and shut the book. “No reversal spell but I did find this.” She held up a key worn shiny with use.
Fynna’s eyes widened. “Is that the key to the armoire?”
“It has to be. We’ve tried every other key possible. I wanted to wait until you got here to try it.” Jessalyne stood and pushed open the door into Sryka’s bedchamber where the armoire stood. “Ready?”
With a deep breath, Fynna nodded.
The key fit perfectly into the lock and turned with ease. Fynna gasped as Jessalyne swung the doors wide. Like faded panes of stained glass, Fynna’s wings rested on the large middle shelf. Sryka had nearly stripped them clean. Only small patches of iridescent color remained.
A great wrenching sound erupted from Fynna. “No, no, no...” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. She sank to her knees, unable to look at her desecrated wings. Sobs racked her small body.
With a lump in her throat, Jessalyne kneeled beside her friend. “I promise we’ll make this right. We will.” She wanted to believe that. She glanced at the wings again. The underside of the middle shelf held a small latched door. She stuck her nail in the groove and pushed it open. A book fell out. Weird runes scarred the blood red leather covering.
“Fynna, I think I’ve found what I was looking for.”
“Jessalyne? Are you in here?” Ertemis’s voice rang out from the other room.
“Yes, in the other room.”
He leaned through the door, his broad shoulders tensing as his hands gripped the opening. “What’s wrong? Is Fynna hurt?”
“No...yes. Her wings.” Jessalyne nodded toward the shelf.
He winced at what was left of Fynna’s once beautiful wings. “Can you—”
Jessalyne cut him off with a shrug.
Fynna exhaled one last sob and stood, knuckling the tears off her face. Without taking her eyes off her wings, she spoke softly. “I’m going to the gardens. I need to be alone for a while.”
“Of course.” Jessalyne rose and brushed her skirt off. “I’ll start studying this book immediately.”
Fynna wandered past Ertemis, her footsteps fading as she trudged down the stairs.
“Poor Fynna. I’ve got to find a way to help her. This might do it.” She heldup the book. “It was tucked away in a hidden compartment. I don’t recognize any of these symbols, do you?”
He glanced at it. “Nay. Can you heal her?”
“It’s not a matter of healing. The wings need to be reattached. Without the right spell, there’s nothing I can do.” She shook the book in her hands. “This has to be it. I’ve read almost every other book in these chambers and found nothing.”
He reached for her hand. “Come with me out onto the wall walk.”
She set the book on the worktable as they passed it. “Why are we going out here?” Maybe for more kissing.
“To talk.” He released her hand only to pull her close with an arm around her waist. His fingers stroked her cheek. “I must leave for a few days.”
She clamped a hand over his. “What? Why? Where?”
“My lady mother insisted I beg your hand in marriage. She also insisted she be invited to the nuptials.”
Jessalyne’s eyes widened. “Elysium? You’re going to Elysium? You told me yourself time has no meaning there. You may never return.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “No. I forbid it.”
He grinned. “You forbid it? I don’t think anyone has ever forbid me to do anything before.”
“Well, I am, so get used to it, you big oaf.” She slipped away and moved further down the wall. How could he do this? What if he missed the wedding? Or never came back? She needed him right now.
“Jessalyne? Your dress—”
“I’m not talking to you right now.” A curl of smoke drifted past. She glanced down. The smoke came from her dress. She breathed deeply to dispel the heat of her anger.
Ertemis chuckled softly. “Before you set me on fire, lelaya, I am only delivering a message. I promise I will not set foot on Elysium.”
She kept her back to him. “Then why not send a messenger?”
He braced a hand against the wall on either side of her. “Because no else can find Elysium but me. I will return well before the ceremony. I still have one more blasted fitting for my coronation attire.” He kissed her shoulder, his lips burning against her skin. “Nothing will keep me away from you. Nothing.”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip to keep from smiling. There was perverse power in having such a powerful man bend to her will.
“Jess, sweeting, I give you my word.” He brushed the hair from the nape of her neck and feathered kisses across the exposed skin.
She settled her hands over his. “Will your lady mother come? I would very much like to meet her.”
“I’m sure she would, if only I could deliver the invitation.”
She twisted to face him. “Rotten beast. Fine. Go. I have plenty to do anyway.” She frowned, thinking of Fynna.
“You’ll find a way to help her.”
“Did you read my mind now?” She tried to read his. Nothing.
“Nay. Just the turn of your mouth and the look in your eyes.” He kissed her forehead. “The view is breathtaking, isn’t it?”
She snuggled against him and gazed over the city. “It is. Even more so when you think you’re to be king of it all.”
He sighed at her words, his face somber, and his eyes thoughtful. “King. It brings such responsibility.” Turning his gaze toward her, his expression softened. “At least you will be at my side as queen.”
“The thought frightens me so much I don’t even want to think it.” She shook her head, pale strands coming loose around her face.
“We’ll find our way together.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “I must go. Brynden will think I’ve changed my mind. Which reminds me, I want to lend him Petal. He has no horse of his own and it’s a long walk.”
“Why not give him a horse from the royal stables?”
“Character is not built through gifts, my love.”
She held him tightly. “Stay a moment longer. Please.”
He nodded and she pressed against him, resting her head on his thickly muscled chest. He smelled of leather and the spiced soap she’d made for him.
“I love you, Jessalyne.” He kissed her soundly, his hands slipping down to cup her backside
She gasped. “I love you, too, your wickedness.”
“Saucy wench.” They walked back inside and he kissed her once more before he headed off to find Brynden and Dragon.
The sun felt good on his skin as he exited into the courtyard and walked toward the stables. Castle Ryght was the most magnificent castle he’d ever been in. That it should become his home staggered him.
Servants nodded as he passed, greeting him with a respectful curiosity. Gathered beneath some shade trees, a throng of girls watched the castle guards at sword play. They fell silent as he approached.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he greeted them as he passed, trying on the role of lord of the manor.
Whispers filled his ears but before he could listen closer, h
e detected footsteps behind him. He whirled, his cloak billowing out around him.
She yelped, then giggled. “Oh my, you startled me. You’re unusually quick.” Eyes the blue of an early spring sky lit a face framed by corn silk curls. A coquettish smile turned up the corners of the girl’s berry colored lips. She looked at him from beneath a fringe of kohl-darkened lashes.
“Not in all things, I assure you.”
Her smile widened and the pink tip of her tongue played across her teeth. She held out a dainty hand. “We have not been properly introduced, your highness. I am Salena LaPierre, daughter of Baron LaPierre.”
He hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, he took her hand and brushed his lips across it the way he’d seen noblemen do when introduced to a woman of their class.
“Such a light touch for a man of your size. I will assume you are Prince Ertemis, the new heir to Shaldar’s throne?
Dropping her hand, he realized he should have offered his name in return. He bristled at his lack of aristocratic skills, an unnecessary reminder of how unfit he felt to be king. “Aye. And I am leaving unless you have some further need of me.”
By the gleam in her eye, he saw she read more into his words than was there.
“Perhaps it is I who should ask if you have any needs. As a citizen of Shaldar, it is my duty to serve you, my lord prince.” She toyed with the neckline of her gown, her fingertips brushing the fullness of her breasts.
Ertemis growled. The scent of Erebus clung to her, poorly masked from his sensitive nose by her oversweet perfume.
She mistook his displeasure for lust and moved toward him. “It’s regrettable that you’ll be forced to marry that ghostly shrew. I would be more than willing to offer you a bit of solace, your highness.” She stepped closer, her voice a little softer. “You will find me quite capable of sating your most wanton appetites. Compared to Lady Jessalyne, I am a very different woman.”
Her boldness was startling, but her belittling of Jessalyne stirred a cold rage in him. Struggling to compose himself before his temper bested him, he closed his eyes, only to feel her hand slide down his arm. He wrenched her wrist away.
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