An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Merlin’s Song
ISBN # 9781419910098
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Merlin’s Song Copyright© 2007 Samantha Winston.
Edited by Ann Leveille.
Cover art by Philip Fuller.
Electronic book Publication: April 2007
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Content Advisory:
S – ENSUOUS
E – ROTIC
X – TREME
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic.
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
Merlin’s Song
Samantha Winston
Chapter One
The castle stood like a wedding cake with snow frosting its turrets and roofs and ice glittering like spun sugar on the windows. The winter solstice was approaching, but there were no decorations decking the halls, no bright holly, no scent of spices or sound of singing, and instead of the usual bustle there was only stillness echoing through the empty rooms. Fireplaces stayed cold and empty. The only things festooning the rafters were cobwebs. Winter had not loosened its tight grip and everything was dark, icy and silent.
Except for a petulant cry coming from the kitchen.
“I hate this war. It’s so boring here now. I can’t believe there’ll be no ball for the solstice. It’s the most important party of the year and it’s been canceled by that stupid war.” Kyla stomped her foot hard enough to hurt it and uttered a frustrated shriek.
“Hush. You’re not doing any good whining about it. Here, finish stirring this.” Bonnie, the cook, handed Kyla a bowl and whisk.
“Another fairy cake?” It was fairy cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner now. No ships had arrived in the harbor for weeks and supplies were dwindling. Luckily the only ones in the castle were two old ladies, the ancient groom and Kyla. They didn’t need much to eat.
“Sulking again?” Bonnie shook her head. She was old, even for a fairy, and had grown quite stout. Her white hair was piled in a haphazard bun that always looked like it was about to fall sideways and her blue eyes were surrounded by masses of wrinkles. “What do you miss most?”
That was an easy question. “I miss the balls, the pretty dresses, flirting with the men, having three or more suitors fighting to dance or talk to me during the evening. Did I mention pretty dresses? I haven’t worn a ball gown in ages! Look at me! If a man came in now he’d think I was the scullery maid!” Kyla held her flour-covered hands out in front of her. Frustration and rage made her voice crack.
“I could show you some fairy potions if you want. What one would you like to learn?”
“The ‘how to stop a war’ potion.”
“Kyla! Be serious for once.” Bonnie shook her head. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten what it was like to be young and flighty, but you have to realize that you can’t change things by complaining. You have to learn to live through the hard times as well as the good times. Now how about a love potion? That way, when the war ends and the young men come back you’ll have them all fighting again…for you!”
Now there was an idea. Kyla imagined the scene. The young men would all be falling down in a hurry to get to her side, and the other girls would be gritting their teeth with jealousy. “Oh that sounds like fun. How will it work? Is it magic? I don’t know any magic spells, but a love potion would be handy to know.”
“Fairy potions are just for fun, there’s no magic involved. When I was a lass we used to make these potions for the young men we fancied. Why don’t we make one like that? It’s guaranteed to make the man who drinks it fall madly in love with you. Let’s see. I’ll need some spring water and a sprig of wintergreen. Go fetch those and we’ll make the potion.”
Kyla was glad to do something besides cook. Bonnie was the only person in the castle who would take the time to entertain her a bit, and this promised to be more fun than her aunt’s tasks of cleaning each and every room in the castle now that it was empty.
She got the spring water and wintergreen and Bonnie showed her how to make an elixir. It was bright pink and smelled fresh, and tasted a bit like spun sugar. Very odd. They chanted a little spell over it. “Nothing really magic mind you,” Bonnie said. Fairies were adept in magic of illusion, not serious magic like the elves’ art of healing or the mages’ powerful spells. But Kyla was content to make her potion. It kept her from having to sweep, shake out rugs and stuff new feathers into the mattresses and pillows.
When she was done she put the potion in a vial and left it in the kitchen. She had to go do some gardening and then she had promised to help her aunt with some rug cleaning. She wasn’t looking forward to the rest of her day.
“Don’t forget, you’re on kitchen duty tonight,” said Bonnie.
“I won’t forget.” Since the castle was so short-staffed, everyone took turns filling in for the missing personnel. Kyla hurried off to find her aunt—not easy in a castle with over three hundred rooms—and found herself flapping rugs out the windows to air them, which was how she saw the messenger.
A horseman galloped over the drawbridge, his shadow running before him, the setting sun making his cloak, streaming in the cold wind, look like a flame. Perhaps he had news from her brothers! Kyla tossed the rug on the floor, closed the window and hurried from the room. She took a secret passage that led to the hidden panel behind the reception room. It was dark, but she’d been using the secret passages since she was a child and she didn’t miss a step. She arrived just as the messenger was shown into the reception room. She put her eyes to the peephole. He took off his cloak and ran his hand through hair the color of new copper. An elf! How fascinating. She hadn’t seen one in ages. They didn’t usually come so far south.
He was obviously exhausted. He sat on the plush velvet chair in front of the fire and held his hands out to its warmth. Her aunt came in and Kyla pulled back a fraction. She didn’t want her aunt to know she was spying.
“Merlin!” Her aunt rushed up to the messenger. She knew him? Kyla’s curiosity made her press closer to the peephole.
The messenger stood up, towering over her aunt, his face terribly pale. “I came as fast as I could. Has Sebring arrived yet?”
Her aunt looked stunned. “Your brother? No, why? What’s happening? Sit down, please, you look tired. I’ve called for some refreshments, but first, tell me the news.”
Merlin’s voice was drained of emotion, but his words made Kyla’s heart pound. “The news from the war is not good. The Mouse King has returned. He’s somehow managed to convince the barbarians fro
m the north to join his cause, and he’s also recruited the behemoths to his army.”
“Oh no.” Her aunt sank to the ground at Merlin’s feet and put her hand on his knee. Kyla almost gasped. Her aunt had never been familiar with a messenger before.
“Sebring is meeting me here. We’re taking one of the ships and heading south. Branagh thinks we can convince the Southern Isles to fight with us.”
This time Kayla couldn’t suppress her gasp of surprise. Luckily her aunt gasped as well. “But the Southern Isles refuse to get involved with our politics.”
“That was before the Mouse King returned. Now they will be obliged to help us. King Branagh had conferred this mission on Sebring and I, and we mustn’t fail. The future of Hivernia hangs by a thread. We have to leave as soon as possible.”
“I will order a boat prepared for you.”
“We’ll need the swiftest boat you have.”
Kyla’s aunt looked even more troubled, but said, “My fastest ship will be put at your disposal.”
“Thank you.” He looked around. “I’m parched, is the refreshment coming?”
“Oh Mistral! Where is that girl? Hold on, I’ll go see what’s keeping Kyla.”
Kyla clapped her hand to her mouth. She was supposed to be on kitchen duty tonight. Her aunt had probably pulled the bell ropes to her room and the kitchen, but she’d been gone. Holding her skirts high, she ran toward another, even smaller secret passage that led to the kitchen pantry. She arrived before her aunt did and hooked a pot of water on the chain over the fire, then she grabbed two cups and put them on a tray just as her aunt pattered into the room.
“What have you been doing? Hurry, we have a guest!”
“I’ll bring a tray in to him. Where is he, in the reception room?” Kyla asked, not meeting her aunt’s eyes.
“Where else would he be? Bring something to eat as well. Some sugared plums, and some fairy cakes if there are any left.” Her aunt fluttered her hands, her round face pink with emotion. “Oh, I forgot, we haven’t had sugared plums in ages.”
Kyla almost asked if elves liked fairy cakes, and shut her mouth just in time. She had to be careful. Her aunt would be vexed if she found out Kyla was spying on her. The secret passages were known to her aunt, of course, but she didn’t know the extent of Kyla’s knowledge, and Kyla meant to keep it like that.
“Of course there are fairy cakes left. I made some extra ones today. What kind of fairy castle would lack fairy cakes?” Kyla managed to keep the bitterness out of her voice. After all, it wasn’t her aunt’s fault they were at war and her father had dumped her in the southernmost land in this crumbling castle to stay with her elderly aunt. She loved her aunt. She hated staying here. There was nothing to do but cook fairy cakes, shake rugs and go for endless walks along the empty beaches.
Her aunt sighed. “I know you’re bored here all alone with no other young people around. When you bring the refreshments, I’ll introduce you to our guest.”
“Who is it?” Kyla couldn’t suppress the eagerness in her voice.
“Merlin. He is Queen Melflouise’s brother.”
Prince Branagh had married an elf woman, and now that he was king she was queen, the first elf woman to sit on the throne of Hivernia. It hadn’t pleased Kyla’s father, a staunch royalist and conservative too. He’d bellowed for weeks about change and the downfall of Hivernia. But he had met Queen Melflouise, the one they called Melle, and had fallen under her charms. He’d come back from court and had stopped blustering about the ruination of the royal family. But he hadn’t mentioned the fact that she had a brother.
Kyla wished she’d taken more care of her appearance, but she was too anxious to go meet the elf to really care. Besides, everyone knew elves didn’t care about appearances. They were rough and wild, like King Branagh’s legendary one-eyed captain and his d’ark t’uath bride. Now there was a race of elves that Kyla would never be able to fathom. A whole tribe comprised only of women. No men! Imagine that! No pleasure! And at the thought of pleasure a little shiver of heat ran through her. Elves were bigger than fairies…in every way.
Her aunt was bustling around the kitchen and didn’t seem to notice Kyla’s sudden silence. Kyla wondered if she should ask permission to turn her charms on the elf, but then she shrugged. Her aunt would probably just laugh and say, “Go ahead!” She was old enough to do what she pleased with men, and elves were men… Just slightly different. Her heart beat hard at the thought of meeting him though. She carried the tray carefully, following her aunt, who hadn’t stopped talking.
“I have to ask him for news of the family. Maybe he has news of your brothers,” she said, holding her skirts up as she trotted quickly down the hallway.
Kyla hoped so. Not knowing where they were or how they fared was torture. Every night she prayed that they would be home soon, safe and sound, and that the war would soon be won.
They arrived in the reception room and the elf stood up. He was so tall! Kyla cast her eyes down modestly as she put the tray on the table. She was just acting though. There was not a modest bone in her body. But her mother had reared her to observe proprieties. Her mother had been the royal nanny for many years, and had reared princesses, so she reared her own daughter the same way. She always said, “You can get away with almost anything if you do it acting like a lady.”
“Merlin, this is my niece, Kyla. Her mother is Lady Bluebell, and her father is Lord Flandres. Kyla, this is Merlin Winterhelm, Her Majesty Melflouise’s brother.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lady Kyla.” His voice was low and vibrant, making Kyla’s skin tingle. His eyes were dark green and cool, like a deep, shady forest pool and his spiky hair was cut short and as bright as flames.
“Have you come from the front?” asked her aunt, helping herself to a fairy cake.
“Yes, I left King Branagh not one week ago.”
Kyla forgot her shy act. “Did you just come from the war? How is it going? Have you seen my brothers Dami and Filou Flandres? Where are they? Are they well?”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. “Are they your brothers? Yes, they are fine. They’re posted with the royal guard, so far they have fared well, never fear. And if our plan goes well, Hivernia will soon win the war.”
“But the Southern Isles have never wanted to help us before,” cried Kyla. Too late she remembered she wasn’t supposed to know that. She clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Kyla!” Her aunt sounded outraged, and well she might. “Have you been spying?”
“A little,” she said, lowering her hands and trying to act like a lady. “Won’t you have some spiced tea? And try a fairy cake, I made them myself.”
“I apologize for my niece,” said her aunt stiffly. “She forgets we’re at war.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Kyla, trying to act humble now. “I promise I won’t do it again.” She crossed her fingers behind her back as she said that. Spying was what she did best, and she wasn’t about to stop.
The elf’s voice was noticeably cooler when he spoke. “Would you have anything more substantial than fairy cake? I’m famished.”
“Oh, you poor boy. I’ll see what I can find.” Her aunt would coddle anyone, thought Kyla with some exasperation. The elf was far past being a boy.
He didn’t seem to mind. He smiled at her aunt. “Don’t bother with that. I don’t want you rushing back and forth on my behalf.”
Kyla took a fairy cake and held it out to him with a smile. Obviously he was the type to make do with what was given to him.
He ignored the fairy cake and said, “I’m sure your niece will be happy to make me an omelet or find me some bread and cheese.”
Kyla almost told him take the fairy cake and stuff it in his mouth. But her upbringing asserted itself and she smiled sweetly, put the fairy cake back on the tray and stalked off to the kitchen. There were three eggs left. She sighed as she took them. The hens were hardly laying and this represented a week of looking in every nook of the hay barn. The he
ns had taken to hiding their eggs now, and it was getting harder to find them. But she supposed the elf, as a warrior, needed more food than she or her aunt did. Kyla made an omelet and then, as she slid it onto the plate, she saw the vial in the corner. The love potion she’d made that morning. An old woman’s recipe, for fun. But it would serve that elf right to fall in love with her. Then she could toss her head and tell him to go make himself an omelet and he’d be broken-hearted.
She poured the whole thing into a glass of red wine. It was too full, so she sipped some of it. There, he’d never know what hit him. She wondered if the potion worked on maidens as well, but thought not. It was a potion for men so it would only affect that bossy elf.
Kyla hurried to the reception room, pausing just outside the doorway. She overheard her aunt say, “Yes, Kyla’s mother was the royal nanny. She was Branagh’s nanny, if you can imagine. She married late and Kyla was her twilight child, as she likes to say.” Her aunt laughed gaily and Kyla’s fingers tightened on the tray. Old gossipy biddy. Go on, tell everyone she’d been born when her parents were already old and her brothers already full grown.
Pasting a bright smile on her face, she set the tray on the table and went to tend the fire. She put another couple logs on and watched the elf out of the corner of her eye. He ate the omelet with evident hunger and drained the glass of wine.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked, batting her eyelashes coyly.
He looked at her and a smile creased his lips. “Much better, thank you. If my brother comes, I hope you’ll make him the same omelet, it was delicious. I’ve never had better.”
Kyla started to feel a little more friendly toward him. “When will he arrive?”
“Tonight, hopefully. He should have been here already. We leave tomorrow at dawn.”
“Tomorrow?” She felt a pang of…something. It hurt. Her chest hurt. She put her hand on her heart.
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