“So we bide our time a bit longer. Let the Black Knight pursue his other prize. When he does, we strike and destroy the draks.” Edward nodded. “I have been in communication with Erec’s Greynault cousins. I shall write them. Let them know that Erec escaped. He may be making his way there. Also, perhaps we can coordinate a strike.”
Edward sipped his tea and stared at his uncle. “I will renounce the crown when Willem returns,” he said suddenly. “I won’t lead our kingdom to civil war.”
Hansel smiled at him. “I know that lad,” Hansel said as he leaned forward and placed a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “You have already demonstrated that you have more of your father than your mother in you. You are an honorable young man.”
Edward looked down into his tea cup. “Mother has seen the error of her ways,” he said.
“What happens to your mother will be up to Willem, so you have no need to convince me.”
“It’s true, Uncle. She knows she was wrong.”
“Good, lad. I’m happy to hear it.”
Chapter 22
Breston Greynault read the message from Avonvale that had been brought by pigeon just a few moments ago. To anyone that captured it, it would clearly be a secret message. The key was simple and thus it would be decoded quickly, but once decoded its secret would be believed to be a scandalous affair not, the retaking of the capital. Breston smiled at the decoded message. “My wife’s family has called her away to the north. I long for you, my darling, come as soon as you can.”
Gripping the paper tightly he strode excitedly from the room and down stone steps in search of Erec.
***
Erec and Aura sat on a small bench in the courtyard of Castle Greynault. Aura was soaking up the light, her face turned heavenward, her beautiful white wings spread out to her sides. Erec sat with a bowl of grapes, eating one at a time as he watched her.
“Why do you stare?” Aura asked without turning to face him.
Erec quickly looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…” he stammered trying to think of an excuse other than telling her that she was more beautiful than the most beautiful of sunrises and it was impossible not to stare. “I am just amazed that you do not eat—that you live off the light.”
Aura turned her head to look at him. A slight smile touched the corners of her lips. He couldn’t help but smile himself. He popped another grape into his mouth. Aura looked down at the bowl still filled with several of the berries. “And you would have me live off ingesting these things through my mouth?” she asked.
Erec shrugged and then plucked a grape from its stem and held it up. “They are quite good,” he said. “Would you care to try one?”
She smiled at him and then opened her mouth and he realized that she intended for him to feed it to her. He fought to prevent his hand from trembling as he placed the grape to her lips and watched her bite into it, the juices filling her mouth with tastes she had never imagined.
Aura moaned as she closed her eyes, a shiver running through her body as the tastes seemed to invade all of her senses at once. She opened her eyes and Erec saw them bright and excited. She licked her lips and leaned in close to him. “May I have another?” she asked as a child might ask her grandmother to sneak her another cookie before bed.
Erec chuckled, but acquiesced. He pulled another grape from the bowl and brought it to her mouth. Again she moaned, closing her eyes and enjoying the sweet and sour flavors of the small fruit. “That is wonderful,” she said.
“See,” Erec said. “Much better than sunlight.”
Aura tilted her head as she looked at him. “I would not say that,” she smiled. She stood up and then reached down pulling him to his feet. “You just do not know how to properly enjoy the light.” She began to unbutton his shirt.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” he asked as he pushed her hands away. She raised her eyebrows to look at him as a mother might a disobedient child.
“Erec, how many times do I have to save your life before you learn to trust me?” she asked.
“I do trust you, but…” he began, but a sideways look from her cut him off. He relented, removing his hands and allowing her to finish unbuttoning his shirt. She then walked around behind him and pulled the shirt off, allowing it to drop to the ground at his feet. He stood in the middle of the courtyard, bare chested. She placed her hands beneath his arms and lifted them upward to spread out at his sides.
“Look skyward,” she said. Erec did, but was forced to close his eyes as the light was much too bright. “Let the light penetrate you,” she said as she whispered into his ear. “Let it soak into your skin.” As she said the last part, her fingers ran delicately over his back and down his arms.
Erec’s eyes suddenly popped open and he spun around and took her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers. He had wanted to kiss her since the first night he spoke to her by the fire at the elophim camp, and had imagined she tasted like honey. She did not taste like honey. She tasted much better.
To Erec’s great relief she did not slice through his neck with her sword of light, nor did she pull away. To his surprise, she returned his kiss. He felt her wings fold in around them as her hands moved to the back of his head. He had wanted to kiss her for so long and he wished that he could just stay there forever, but he could not.
“Excuse me,” a voice said and Erec and Aura leapt apart guiltily. Breston stood but a few steps away, trying his best not to laugh.
“Breston, hello,” Erec said nervously and clearly embarrassed.
“I am very sorry to interrupt,” Breston smiled, “but we have a message from Avonvale.”
The embarrassment that had shone on Erec’s face disappeared in a flash as Breston handed him the piece of paper. Erec read it quickly then looked up at his cousin. “Assemble your men,” he said. He then turned to Aura. “We are going to take back my kingdom.”
Chapter 23
The air was cooler up in the Scorched Mountains than it was back in Talisaria. Tythan leaned against the highly shone white wall as he stared out over the mountains and valleys north of the White Fortress. He closed his eyes enjoying the sensation of the mountain breeze whipping through the brown curls atop his head.
Since arriving in Caerwynspire, Tythan had spent a good deal of time standing upon the walls or towers of the White Fortress. Not only did he enjoy the view, one not shared in his home kingdom of Talisaria, but perhaps more importantly, it offered him refuge from his brother-in-law, King Artur. Artur had not been pleased when Tythan had arrived at the gates of Caerwynspire instead of traveling south to Dracengard. He grew visibly upset when Tythan informed him that he did not bring his Dracenstone with him, and he leapt into a fury when Tythan explained that the stone had been sent south to Avonvale with Ariana.
Artur’s hand had gone to the gilded hilt of his sword, drawing the weapon, a blood lust burning in his eyes. Tythan had no doubt that the old warrior would have cut him to ribbons right then and there had Gwyndalin not been present to protect her little brother and calm her husband. Artur had spat obscenities at Tythan that would make a Stromish sailor blush as Gwyndalin led him from the room, calmly explaining that it was her father, Baltus, not Tythan that had given up the Dracenstone.
Tythan’s eyes popped open and he spun around quickly when he heard footfalls along the polished white stone behind him. His nerves had been on edge for weeks. He was certain that Artur was going to have one of his Paladin kill him in a way that Gwyndalin could be convinced was an accident.
When he turned he was relieved to see his big sister, who was suddenly halted by the aggressiveness of his stance. “Nervous?” she asked as a smirk spread across her face. Tythan nodded his head and chuckled to himself. He looked her up and down. Even after birthing eleven daughters, she was still very beautiful. Her girlish curves were long gone of course, but she still cut a fine figure in her soft gray dress. Her neck and the tops of her shoulders were revealed, but her arms were covered to the wrists. A shini
ng silver tiara rested upon her head and sparkled in the sunlight. She stepped toward her brother and leaned against the wall beside him as she gazed out over the mountains.
“Quite different from Talisaria, is it not?” she asked. Tythan turned back toward the view and nodded in agreement.
“I can understand why you rarely leave it to visit us,” he smiled.
“Well, there is also the fact that Father married a woman not much older than Ashleen.”
Tythan sighed a bit at the mention of Ariana. He missed her so much. “If you want to blame Father that is fine, but don’t hold it against Ariana. Do you really think she wanted to share a bed with a gruff old man when she could have had…,” but he stopped, letting the words go on the mountain breeze.
“She could have had what?” Gwyndalin asked as her eyes narrowed on her brother.
“Well, she could have had just about any young man she wanted,” he said.
“Yes,” Gwyndalin nodded. “She is quite beautiful.” She then took Tythan’s arm and led him away from the wall. “Let us take a stroll,” she smiled.
“Alright,” Tythan said, happy for the company.
As they walked, Gwyndalin laid her head against her brother’s arm. “I have missed you so much, Ty,” she said.
“I’ve missed you too, Gwynnie,” Tythan replied.
“It pains me that my brother and my husband do not like each other,” she said.
“I like Artur just fine,” Tythan said. “Save for the whole wanting to drive his sword through my chest thing, he’s really a charming fellow.”
Gwyndalin laughed. “It is a very rare thing for me to hear someone describe my husband as charming. He is sweet to me and somehow finds time to dote on all eleven of his daughters, but rarely is he charming.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to be charming. Just a little less murderous would be fine with me.”
“I think after many weeks, I have finally calmed him down,” Gwyndalin said as she smiled up at her brother.
“So he no longer wants to kill me?” Tythan asked.
“No,” she replied. “Now he only wants to kill Father.”
“Oh, well that’s just fine,” Tythan said, the sarcasm thick in his voice.
“I love my Father, Tythan, and I would very much like to prevent Artur from killing him and razing my childhood home.”
Tythan stopped walking and looked at her. “Raze Talisaria? But why?”
Gwyndalin shrugged. “Something about it being a nest of treacherous vipers.”
“Oh, the seraph help us,” Tythan said as he brought his hand to his face.
“But I have a plan,” Gwyndalin said.
“A plan?” Tythan said with a chuckle. “A plan to prevent your husband from killing every familiar face from your childhood?”
“Oh, I don’t think he’d actually kill everyone,” she said almost nonchalantly. “But, yes, I do have a plan.”
“Alright,” Tythan said. “Let us hear this brilliant scheme of my big sister.”
Gwyndalin smiled at him and led him along toward the castle. “We just have to convince him that Father is mad as a hatter.”
“That should be easy enough.”
***
Artur sat staring across the table at Tythan, his back to the castle gardens. Tythan had a perfect view of the gardens and the mountains in the distance. Most importantly, his back was to the wall of the solarium so no one would be able to slip up behind him unnoticed to slit his throat. Despite Gwyndalin’s assurances, he still did not trust that Artur wasn’t going to kill him. In fact, he could hardly blame the man.
Arthur was the King of Caerwynspire and with that came the responsibility of being the first line of defense against the forces from the Realm of Darkness. He, like his predecessors on the throne, and the knights in the golden armor that dedicated their entire lives to becoming the greatest soldiers in the realm took their duty to defend the Middle Realm against the shedom very seriously. But their focus had always been on the north. Suddenly, the threat came from the south. And the threat was not from Shebath or his shedom directly, but from a man. This had to be very disconcerting to Artur and his people.
Artur’s face was red. He was still angry all of these weeks later. Gwyndalin gently placed a calming hand on his forearm before turning to her brother. “Tythan,” she said, “Please explain to Artur what happened. Why you came to Caerwynspire instead of Dracengard and why you did not bring the Dracenstone.”
Tythan looked down at the table, not wanting to face the steely eyes that cut into him, but he finally forced his eyes to meet Artur’s. He needed Artur to believe, and what he was saying was true…for the most part.
“Father’s health has been failing for some time,” he said. “That is no secret. But his mind is also abandoning him. He has grown paranoid and almost delusional. After Gwyndalin’s visit, he was ranting and raving about your plot.”
“What plot?” Artur sneered.
“He became afraid that you wanted to take Talisaria for yourself. Absorb it into Caerwynspire. He commanded me to take the Dracenstone to the Wizard—to ally with him—but I refused. I told him that we should do as Gwyn had suggested and take it to Dracengard. He erupted into a frenzy of delusional raving. He threatened to have me arrested and hanged as a traitor—a spy for Caerwynspire. Then he started shouting that Ariana would take the stone to the Wizard.”
“And she did,” Artur said.
“As far as I know, yes.”
“Your Queen and step-mother just sailed down to Avonvale and laid the greatest weapon you had at the feet of the most terrifying threat that has existed to the realm in over one thousand years.” Artur leaned against the table and slammed his fist upon it for emphasis. “This self-proclaimed wizard has done what I would have never dreamed possible. He is uniting the kingdoms of man behind him, either by force or threat of force, to conquer the realm for the Dark Lord. Without a single se’irim stepping a hoof outside of the Realm of Darkness, man has been almost completely subjugated to Shebath.” Artur sat back and stared at Tythan. “Our greatest weapon, the only hope mankind has of defeating the forces of Shebath are the dracens that our seraph forebears gave to us. And this girl-queen just pranced down to Avonvale and handed yours to this servant of darkness.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Tythan said. “She was obeying her King, just as Gwyn was obeying hers when she came to visit us in the first place. I begged Father not to send her, but he doesn’t care about her. He never did.”
Tythan was angry now. Not at Artur, but his father. Artur was right that turning over the stone was a disaster, but he was wrong to blame Ariana. “Blame my father if you must, but do not blame Ariana!” he shouted.
Gwyndalin’s eyes were opened wide and a hand was over her mouth. “You love her,” she said as she stared at her brother.
Tythan turned to look at her incredulously. “That’s ridiculous,” he said as he waved her off. But Gwyndalin would not be deterred. Her hand went from her mouth to rest on his arm.
“You do. You love her.” She then turned to look at Artur. “It all makes sense.” Tears began to build in her eyes.
“What makes sense?” Artur asked.
She turned back to Tythan. “You were having an affair, weren’t you?”
Tythan looked away, refusing to meet his sister’s eyes. “Answer me, Tythan!” she snapped just like she used to do when they were children.
“Yes!” he shouted angrily. “We were having an affair. And I do love her. She should have been mine to begin with, but father married her instead. What does an old man like that need with someone as young and perfect as Ariana?”
Gwyndalin wiped the tears from her eyes as she stood and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ty,” she said through the tears. “He meant for you to die. He meant for both of you to die.” She released him and turned back to Artur. “Father’s mind is failing him, but he is still no fool. He knows you and he knows your temper. He had discovered that T
y and Ariana were having an affair and he sent him here, believing you would kill him.” She turned back to her brother. “He did not mean to ally with the Wizard. He sent Ariana south to her death.”
Tythan’s eyes were wide and his mouth agape. Artur’s eyes were dancing back and forth between his wife and brother-in-law. “But even if his mind is failing, I find it difficult to believe he would risk sending the Dracenstone to the Wizard just to get revenge on his adulterous bride.”
“Father doesn’t believe those legends,” Gwyndalin said. “He doesn’t think the stone is anything more than an old, dusty rock.”
Tythan was trembling at the thought that his father would try to have him and Ariana killed. Was Gwyndalin right?
“But Tythan is his only male heir,” Artur said.
Gwyndalin took her husbands face in her hands and she looked deeply into his eyes. “Our father’s mind is failing, darling. The man I knew would never have done that, but he is losing his mind.” She then lowered herself down to her knees beside Artur. “Please spare his life. He does not know what he is doing. Tythan can wear the crown, but please do not kill my father. I could not bear the idea that my husband killed my father, no matter how sick his mind has become.”
Artur sat back and looked down at his wife, on her knees begging him to spare her father’s life. She was so beautiful. He loved her so much. He wanted to kill the old man, to place his head on a pike as a warning to all the other kings and pretender kings out there that those who betrayed the light for the darkness would pay with their lives, but he relented. Even when she begged Artur not to send Ashleen on the Paladin Quest, she did not do so on her knees. He reached down and wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up off the ground and into his lap. “Alright,” he said. “I shall spare him.”
Gwyndalin pressed her lips against Artur’s. “Thank you,” she whispered to him as she pulled away, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Artur’s steely eyes once again fell on Tythan. “You shall keep your father confined to the castle grounds. If I discover he has left them, I shall kill him.” Tythan nodded. “You shall be king,” Artur said, “but you shall name Ashleen your heir.”
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