by JK Ensley
“I know her, Epona. We are the same, she and I. She stayed. I know she stayed. I know because I would’ve done the same thing. I would have remained in that house, determined to face the evil alone. Anything to protect her.” She sighed, wearily. “I only hope Alastyn was able to convince her to leave, just for this one night. But my heart knows better.”
She lifted her dress tail, wiping away her mounting tears. With her vision cleared, she tried to focus on something odd gleaming in the distance. The night sky had begun to lighten ever so slightly. She gently nudged the horse onward.
“Is that a light? Out here?” she whispered absently. “It’s way too small for a campfire.”
The horse seemed to snort in response.
She glanced at the horizon. “It’ll be dawn in little more than an hour, I should think.”
Epona stumbled slightly, slowing her steps. Jenevier patted her gently, encouragingly.
I can’t believe we’ve ridden all night. “Come on, girl,” she said, raising the reins.
The weary horse picked up her pace, heading straight for the tiny light in the waning darkness.
Chapter 19
Wraith
(RAY-th)
The shattered wraith made her way through the courtyard and down a dusty old hunting trail, leading into the nearby woods. She knew the sun could no longer burn her, but her newly regained eyes were still sensitive to its brilliance. She made her way deep into the forest, stopping only when she came to a clear running stream.
The frail woman dropped to her knees beside the water and wept bitterly. She wept for the life she had once known. She wept for the family she had mercilessly lost. And, damn it all, she wept for the Prince to whom her heart still belonged… whether she willed it or no.
He had spoken the truth. The magical tie binding the two of them could not and would not be broken. The further she traveled from the castle, the more hollow and empty she became.
Cupping her hands in the cool water, she washed the tears from her face. Glancing down, she let out a little gasp. The wraith’s hand automatically went to her mouth. The woman watching her from inside the water put her hand to her mouth as well. The wraith saw that the water-woman was fair and beautiful. She had high cheek bones and smooth skin. Her full lips spread into a broad smile across her lovely face. Yet, the most peculiar thing about the lady in the water was how her youthful features were framed with long flowing hair—hair the color of morning fog or the mists after the summer rains. The wraith reached down to touch the woman’s unusual tresses just as the water-woman reached for her.
When the wraith’s fingers breached the cold surface, ripples flitted across her reflection. A small sad cry escaped her lips as realization washed over her.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?”
The man’s voice startled the wraith. Turning, she saw the stranger was quite close to her.
How did he… She began to scoot away.
The man held up his hands. “Whoa now. I’m real sorry I frightened you. Be calm. I mean you no harm.”
He was standing only about ten feet away from her. She was terrified.
“Did you not hear me?” He remained perfectly still, hands upraised. “I mean you no harm, Ma’am. I heard you scream, that’s all. I came to see if you were all right. Are you hurt?”
“I-I’m not sure,” she mumbled.
He took one step toward her. She scrambled backwards.
“Please, Ma’am. I won’t hurt you. I promise. Just let me see if you’re injured, okay?”
He removed his hunting bow and nearly full quiver, slowly laying them on the ground alongside the two knives he wore in the belt that hung just below his waist.
“See there? I’d never harm you. Now, do you need help?”
The wraith looked at the gentle man. There was something familiar about his broad shoulders and scruffy, unkempt hair. Realization sparkled in her eyes.
“The master’s hunter,” she whispered.
“Excuse me, Ma’am? Did you say something? Will you let me help you now?”
She remembered seeing this man many times before. He always came to the back of the castle, delivering his game to the cooks. She’d never been this close to him—only ever having seen him from a high window in the dusk of the evening—but she was certain his was the same bow and quiver she’d seen strapped across those same broad shoulders.
“I-I’m fine. Forgive me. You caught me a little off guard. I fear my mind was elsewhere.”
She stood, dusting off her soiled dress.
“Apologies. It wasn’t my intent to startle you. In truth, I didn’t expect to happen up on anyone all the way out here. Are you certain you’re well?”
He took one step forward. She didn’t spook or try to run this time. The wraith woman just looked over her shoulder at the gentle waters.
“I’m lost,” she whispered.
“Ma’am? Did you say you were lost?”
“I-I’m not sure… not sure which… which way I should…”
She began to panic, looking in every direction. He moved swiftly, closing off the last few paces still separating them and gently took hold of her arm.
“Ma’am, it’s okay now. Try to calm yourself down a bit. I know these woods like the back of my hand. If you’re lost, I can help you.”
The banished wraith looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt like a rabbit caught in a snare. She could smell the sweat and dirt from his hair, the gamey stench of his clothing. But she calmed when she saw the gentle kindness in his warm eyes.
“Where is it you’re trying to get to, Milady?” His smile was soft, timid. “Where are you trying to go? Or, from whence did you come?”
She looked toward the castle she’d just been exiled from, and then back to the kindly man holding her arm. When she glanced down at the hunter’s hand upon her, he quickly released her, hastily stepping back.
He blushed crimson. “Apologies, Ma’am.”
The misty-haired woman looked back up to meet his earthy brown eyes, but he was now staring at the ground, digging one booted toe into the dirt.
When she didn’t speak, he slowly lifted his head and met her softly smiling gaze.
“Please let me help you. Tell me. Where were you trying to go?”
Confusion furrowed her brow, then. The wraith studied the hunter’s troubled eyes, unsure of what to say.
“Ta-Tamar Broden.” The words fell as an icy whisper from her cracked, bleeding lips. “I wish to go to Tamar Broden.”
Chapter 20
Jezreel
(zhez-REEL)
Jezreel couldn’t help but squeak out a little scream when the door came crashing in. She immediately clasped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The enraged intruder had heard her cries, she was sure of it. She stumbled as far back into the hidden room as she could. With her hand still clamped firmly over her mouth, she sat down on the tiny stool and waited… horror stricken.
It was apparent—albeit way too late—she had been a fool to stay. She could’ve left with Alastyn, but she’d been too stubborn and headstrong, like always. Oh, how she regretted her rash behavior now. She could literally hear her own heartbeat echoing in the darkness.
The angry voice tore through the house, rumbling. She frantically blew out the candle and waited, listening for approaching footsteps. All was quiet, deathly so. Until the closeness of that deep voice snatched her breath from her lungs, causing her next yelp of fear.
“What are you doing in there, my young love?”
She didn’t answer him, even tried to hold her breath.
“Please do not hide from me, tiny angel.” His voice was soft now, almost gentle. “I mean you no harm, my love.”
Jezreel whimpered softly when she heard the large bookcase being pulled further away from her secret hiding place. Hot tears burned the backs of her eyes. A choking lump grew in her throat.
“Is this where you’ve been hiding, little one?”
&
nbsp; The irritated Prince opened wide the creaky, ancient door. He held a lamp high in the room. The flickering light spread out, illuminating the corners, revealing a trembling Jezreel sitting on a little stool by a rusty old cauldron.
“Oh. Apologies, young maiden. Did I frighten you?”
His surprised smile was radiant, mesmerizing.
She didn’t answer him; her words wouldn’t come. Her body was betraying her. She had no control. The Prince stepped closer. Jezreel’s eyelids fluttered. She felt faint. Quickly jumping up, her world began to spin out of focus. She felt the Prince’s arms around her just as everything went black.
*****
The backs of her eyelids were red and painful. Slowly opening only one, she peered through her lashes.
The sun?
Light was beaming through the delicate curtains draped loosely over the old window. Slowly taking in her surroundings, she kept only one eye open as she scanned the familiar room. She was definitely lying on Jenevier’s big feather bed, bathed in the warmth of the rising sun.
“Thank the gods,” she whispered. “It was only a dream.”
“Was it a good dream?”
Jezreel jerked up with a scream, crawling back until the headboard halted her desperate escape. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she tried to blink her pooling tears away while staring at the handsomely terrifying man sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Well? Have you lost your tongue, girl? Would you like to tell me about your dream?” He stood then, moving closer, looming over the petrified maiden. “Or would you rather answer a few questions for me? Since I was kind enough to sit here all night whilst you slept, the least you could do is entertain me with a few polite words. Wouldn’t you agree?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Come. Join me in the other room for some tea.” He headed for the door but looked back. “There will be no more screaming. And there will most definitely be no more passing out. Now come, child. We have much to discuss.”
Jezreel cautiously crawled to the edge of the bed and slowly slid down until her toes finally touched the cold floor. She obediently followed Prince Merodach as he led the way into the tiny kitchen.
The table had already been set with two dainty teacups on saucers, a sugar bowl, some fresh cream, and Marlise’s aged teapot as the centerpiece.
“Come. Sit with me.”
The Prince motioned for her to take the chair opposite where he now stood. After she was seated, Jezreel looked up at Merodach. He coldly met her terrified stare, locking their gazes, and graciously seated himself without breaking his intimidating glare.
Taking Jezreel’s cup, he spoke politely, “Cream or sugar?”
“Both please.”
A warming melodious laughter escaped him. “Ahh, the young.”
When the Prince returned her steaming teacup, she eagerly wrapped her trembling hands around it and took her first long sip. Merodach served himself—one lump of sugar and no sweet cream at all. After Jezreel had greedily swallowed about half her tea, the gorgeous man began to speak.
“Where is your lovely friend?”
He smiled, tilting his head to the side expectantly.
Jezreel didn’t feel alarmed or defensive at his questioning. In fact, she was amazingly calm, too calm. She had felt nothing but eerie peace since her first sip of tea.
“Did you drug me?”
He gave her a lazy smile, his eyes half closed. “Of course I did, my child.”
She felt no panic at his disturbing answer. Her heartbeat was steady. Her body, relaxed. She felt only dutiful loyalty to the Prince.
He softly cleared his throat. “Now, shall we continue?”
“Yes, Milord.”
He gracefully crossed his long legs and continued, “Where is your lovely friend? Where is Jenevier?”
“I’m not certain, Milord,” Jezreel said as she took another sip.
“Truly?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Truly.”
“Do you know anything of her absence?”
“Some, Milord.”
“Then tell me all you know. Start from the beginning and leave nothing out.”
“Yes, Milord.”
“How was it my wraiths could not find her? Was she not here?”
Jezreel swallowed, her cup clinking back against the little saucer. “She was here, Milord.”
“Indeed.” He narrowed his eyes. “Then please, gentle maid, be so kind as to explain how it was she managed to escape them.”
“We found an ancient, yet temporary, remedy for your mark.”
He raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Clever girl.” He chuckled. “Seems the maiden is just as resourceful as she is enchanting.”
Jezreel didn’t speak again until the Prince asked her another question. She was unwillingly compelled to answer.
“So, tell me. Did my tiny new love run away as soon as my wraiths left?”
“No, Milord.”
“No? Hmm… Interesting. Was she not terrified?”
“We all were, Milord.”
“All? Who else was here with you?”
“A boy.”
He unexpectedly slammed his hand down on the table. Jezreel jumped.
“Did this boy run away with her?” Bitter jealously was obvious in his deepening voice.
“N-no, Milord.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Milord.”
“Very well. Then tell me. How is it she was allowed to leave without protest from her friends? She left and yet you remained.”
“She left secretly while I was making breakfast and arguing with the boy. After the wraiths, well… she locked herself up in her room.”
“Because?”
Jezreel rolled her eyes. “Because she was exhausted.”
“From?” he continued to coax.
“From?” Jezreel snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. “You tell me, Sire. Only yesterday Jenevier was forced to bury her beloved aunt, host the Life Celebration, fall in love, get marked with a curse, and then figure how to keep from getting kidnapped during the night. Pick one. I’m certain you would agree that any one of those would be utterly exhausting, in and of itself.”
“Firstly, she could not have fallen in love yesterday. She missed our date. And, since she is destined to love only me, you, little girl… are mistaken. Secondly.” His black eyes sparkled. “Mind your tongue, child. Unless you wish for this to become extremely painful. I’m almost certain, you do not.” He sipped a fresh cup of tea. “Now, continue. Properly this time.”
She shuddered. “S-so, when we went to get her, she was gone.”
“How so? Did she simply disappear?”
“Out the window, I believe.”
“Is there anything else?” He sighed. “You try my patience, girl.”
“She left a note.”
He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. “And… may I see it?”
Jezreel dutifully retrieved Jenevier’s farewell letter. She handed it to the curious Prince and reclaimed her place across from him.
He made her a fresh cup of tea. “Drink.”
She obeyed.
Merodach read it several times, inhaling her alluring scent still there upon the paper. Finally, he folded it, placing it in the center of the table.
“Who is this Alastyn?” He didn’t try to hide the venom in his voice as it dripped over the boy’s name.
She finished her second cup of tea. “The boy.”
“…And? Spit it out, girl. Where is he now?”
Jezreel’s hands trembled. “I know not, Milord.”
Merodach glared at her. “Did he follow her?”
“No. I-I mean… I don’t believe so.”
“Did he run to her and take her in his inept childish arms. Did he clumsily try to claim her innocence for himself?”
“I-I don’t understand wh-what you’re talking abo—”
“Did he touch her?” His
voice was icy, terrifyingly cold. “Did he kiss her fair lips, touch her delicate breast? Did he lay with her, Jezreel? Does she yet remain pure or shall I hunt this boy down and claim not only his life but his soul as well?”
“We were all together, Milord. I didn’t see—”
“Why didn’t you take your friend’s advice and leave this place?”
“I was foolish,” she whispered.
He smiled then. “Indeed you are. Tell me. Why the Mountains of Thralldom?”
“All I know is what’s in the letter. Same as you now know.”
“Truly?”
“Truly, Your Grace.”
“I see. So my delicate little Princess departed on her own. Hmm… About this time yesterday? Headed south?”
“I can only assume so, yes.”
“Does she own a horse?”
“No, Milord.”
“Then, she travels by foot?”
“Yes, Milord, barefoot.”
He gasped. “What?”
“Her shoes remain by the door, there.” Jezreel pointed.
Merodach chuckled. “The girl must be foolhardy.”
“Not so. She is faithful, self-sacrificing. She wished me no harm… left the only way she could.”
Silent tears streaked down her face.
“Meaning?” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Meaning… if she had come for her shoes, I never would have let her go alone.”
Merodach’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re saying… she would risk death and peril, barefoot, for your comfort and peace?”
“Yes.”
Jezreel sniffed, absently wiping her wet cheeks.
“Would you be so gracious a friend, were the tables turned?”