by Alice Wade
She watched him and smiled. “You know, I’m very close to breaking your record at mounted archery. I think today may be a good day to prove that I’m better than you, Prince,” she taunted, seeing him begin to slide back into that sad emotional state.
He snorted but didn’t look away. “I think you are delusional First Maiden. No one can beat me.”
“If you are in a better mood now that you’ve ‘fed’, may I prove it to you?” She stood and gracefully moved towards the door where she grabbed a bag that had up to this point gone unnoticed. “I’ve even brought you proper clothing, so go change.”
Talon accepted the bag with mixed emotions. It had been five hundred years since he last wore true elven attire, and more importantly, true elven warrior attire. He wasn’t sure how he felt about donning it now. Inside the bag was a pair of soft leather pants, sturdy boots and vest made of thin material. The vest would allow his body to breathe while ensuring he didn’t become overheated during practice. It was constructed from material that was thinner than silk but stronger than steel. It was the perfect attire for warfare.
“Cuilwen…”
She heard the emotion creep back into his voice, and softened her reply, “I have permission. I calmly explained that you would cause discord or even panic if you were not wearing the appropriate clothing. If you continued to walk around in that smelly human outfit, there would be a riot to kill you by the more civilized adults of the village. Go change. You can bathe later.”
He gave her a look of mock insult, “Smelly human attire? I’m not smelly.” However, he knew to their sensitive noses, he probably reeked. Hearing her musical laugh in response was enough to get him moving towards the bedroom. There he quickly shed his current clothing and tentatively stepped into the elven clothing that he never thought he’d wear ever again. The lump in his throat hurt and he swallowed it down before he took a deep, calming breath. “Time to go,” he whispered to no one.
* * * *
Talon stood on the outskirts of the yard and inhaled while he closed his eyes to allow his elven senses to drink in all that was around him. This foolish game of Cuilwen’s became the perfect diversion to battle the sexual fire currently pulsing through his blood. Just maybe if he worked it off, he’d not ravage the first woman who crossed his path.
He tried to forget that hundreds of eyes were now focused on him, and reached out with his senses to hear and smell the horse paddock to his left. He reached further and felt their thundering hooves in the ground under his feet. At this time of day, the Warriors would be doing riding exercises, including archery practice while galloping at breakneck speed past the target.
To his right, there was a ringing clash of steel that reverberated in the air. It was the signature sound of swords that met in defense. He smiled when he heard the umph of an opponent who missed blocking and got tagged. He missed this. Taking another deep breath and smelled the sweat from their bodies as each elf worked to better the other through techniques far more superior than any human he’d encountered yet.
Before him, directly in the center of the yard, was the hand-to-hand combat ring of soft sand. Without opening his eyes, he knew immediately that there were ten elves in the ring now, five on five. All around, spectators stood in audience, while the ten fought for dominance under the watchful eye of the Chiwe, or Master of Arms.
Cuilwen inhaled when she saw him step into the sunlight. He looked like a god standing there in his tight leather pants and vest which exposed his strong arms.
“Miss this?” Cuilwen’s soft voice broke his concentration.
“Yes, I do.” He opened his eyes and turned to meet her soft eyes filled with a warmth that touched his soul. “I never believed I would be standing here again.”
She patted his shoulder. “I hoped you would be standing here again. Today, I was due for some mounted archery, so are you up for losing to me for the first time?” Talon recognized the challenge that flashed in her eyes and rose to the occasion.
“You never could beat me at mounted games. Why do you think you can now?”
“It’s been five hundred years, Prince. I’ve had more practice.” She moved off towards the stables in a taunting swagger, casting a look of pure mischievousness over her shoulder. “I firmly believe I’m better than you at this point. Shall we find out?”
“Most definitely.” His feet were already moving after her and together they entered the stables.
A hushed silence came over the building, even the horses sensed something wasn’t right and all eyes stopped to stare at the beloved prince banished so very long ago from their lands. Cuilwen ignored them, not wanting their reaction to send Talon into some emotional state. She confidently walked up to the stable master and said in a clear demanding voice, “Saddle two horses.”
When he didn’t move she said, “Now!”
“First Maiden, is this wise?” the master asked.
“I have permission you fool, so move it. I want my horse specifically, and you can find a suitable one for the prince.”
The elf nodded politely, giving Talon an apologetic look before he moved up and down the stalls, stopping before one halfway down the aisle. “Sheetal will do.” He turned his head and said directly to Talon, “He is the closest animal to Diinae that I have. I’m sorry your mount is no longer with us, but this is the best I can offer.”
Diinae was a prized beast, bred for Talon alone and was uncontrollable once Talon was banished. He knew the horse would be put down, but it was like vinegar in a wound to hear it confirmed.
Talon tipped his head, “I’m honored.” He knew this Master was trying to make amends, so didn’t react to the news of Diinae.
Cuilwen smacked his shoulder, “There. Come and prepare to lose for the first time, Talon!”
Her laugh filled the stable and everyone joined in with either a smile or a wild look of anticipation. What she was boasting was something not possible while Talon was invested as prince, for he was known to be the most skilled at all arms. He’d refused to be acknowledged as a Master, preferring to practice with the men rather than instruct.
“I doubt that you will succeed but this will be a good humbling moment for you.”
* * * *
Talon swore loudly as his arrow slipped into the target centimeters from Cuilwen’s that currently sat in dead center of the circle.
“Damn it!” he hollered as he pulled Sheetal around in a skidding halt. “That is two now that you’ve won. Impossible!”
She was beaming and covered in sweat. Winning these two hits wasn’t easy and it took everything she had in her. Inside she was screaming because this was a moment in history. That day had come. Talon was beaten.
“I have won, prince. Two hits.” Her exuberance finally bubbled forth. She whooped from her mount’s back and galloped around the yard, yipping and calling all to those near to come see the evidence.
Talon was furious. He never lost at archery. Never. As he watched Cuilwen gallop her victory lap around the yard, he couldn’t fight the smile that finally won over his anger. She wasn’t the same maiden he knew. No. She’d grown. Someone needed to replace him as the strongest most skilled warrior. She obviously was the most appropriate one. Her skills had increased and her concentration unwavered, so a part of him could not resist the smidgen of respect he felt in his heart.
Because Talon was distracted by his loss, he didn’t’ realize the audience had grown around the yard. They loitered around, looking in surprise at the target with two arrows protruding from the center, one clearly the winner. They came from all around, and flowed into the open space around the archery targets. Most were coming from the hand-to-hand ring, and the mob was quite large.
One in particular stood motionless in amazement while the others poured around his still, bare-chested body. Daerwen stared in shock between the target and his son
. Talon was obvious peeved to have lost, but watched Cuilwen with a look of grudging respect. A feeling of pride washed over him that his son exhibited the highest level of manners by not showing his disappointment, and accepted the fact Cuilwen of all elves outmaneuvered him.
Without thought, he stepped forward to congratulate his son on losing so gallantly. Daerwen’s eyes lingered longer than normal on Talon’s short hair, cut as of one the banished. Like lead, his feet slowed and finally stilled as the reality of the situation descended. Talon was his son no more. Banished and condemned. It was out of the kindness of Daerwen’s heart that Talon was allowed a slight reprieve to walk free among the people under the guard of Cuilwen, his most skilled warrior.
To hide his shock, Daerwen pulled his long reddish blonde hair over his shoulder, smoothed it out, then flipped it over his shoulder to lay smoothly down his pale and flushed back. No, he would not address either Talon or Cuilwen this day. Just as he turned to leave, his eyes crossed Talon’s pained gaze and Daerwen’s heart lurched.
Talon sat on his horse, ignoring the chaos of elves patting his leg and the chorus of cheers around Cuilwen. He and his father stared at each other over the crowd.
Daerwen saw the evident look of longing and wanted nothing more than to rush to Talon, console him on his loss, but he wouldn’t. Instead he frowned. Turning his back, he left the yard at a brisk pace. He felt the eyes of his son bore into his back as he disappeared down the path and out of sight. Grateful for that because he could not hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
Daerwen found himself holding a tree, weeping for the unbearable loss of his son. “Why did you have to disobey me Talon!” he hissed through the sorrow. “Why, did you have to leave me?”
“Because I was stupid,” Talon said behind him. When his father spun around, he bowed in respect. He continued his approach after the bow and ducked beneath a branch to face his father. His heart beat frantically in his chest out of fear, for Talon wasn’t quite sure what he was doing.
Daerwen spun around and nearly tripped over a rock, but the tree saved him once more. He wasn’t expecting to be followed. “You are Cûrion. You should not speak to me so.” His words didn’t carry the same bite they did days before, but the meaning was still clear—his son wasn’t yet forgiven, if forgiveness was going to come.
Etiquette dictated he turn around and leave, being that was a clear order for dismissal. Yet Talon remained with his face gripped in a grimace of torment as he tried to battle his warring emotions. He wanted desperately to talk with his father, to have him listen to what actually happened. He never had that chance so long ago. Talon knew his father was furious with him which is why he was banished before he had that chance. Talon was crippled with the loss of their relationship and until recently, didn’t understand the depth of that pain. Being here, right now, he found he was in a situation where he was raging out of control of his own emotions. Being distraught wasn’t something he understood and most definitely didn’t enjoy.
“Iondwë Daerwen,” he finally said while bowing his head, “I only wish…” he stopped and closed his eyes in an emotional display, “I don’t know what I wish. I’m not sure why I followed you, other than my body just did so without thinking.” He had not opened his eyes for he didn’t want not to see the rejection glaring back at him. “My apologies. I’ll leave you now.”
As he turned, Daerwen recovered from his shock, “Wait.”
Talon froze, trembling slightly out of fear for what could be said next.
“You were stupid, arrogant and young. You paid for that mistake and will continue to do so, however…” he paused. “However…” His fist connected with the tree as he punched the trunk.
Talon flinched at the sound. It was out of character with his normally controlled, passive demeanor. The vampire didn’t move an inch for fear of what could come next.
“Damn you!” Daerwen yelled, his voice thick with anger and the tears that threatened to return. “You disobeyed me! Your own father!” He stalked forward and gripped his chin, forcing his son to look at him. What he saw were ice blue eyes consumed with humiliation and grief. “You shattered my life with that action. You broke my heart with your disobedience. I loved you. Now look at you. Ruined.” With a flourish, he cast his son’s face away as if that little contact burned him.
Talon was never more ashamed than in that one moment. He couldn’t look at his father any longer and was relieved when he wasn’t forced to stare into those eyes full of such rejection and anger.
“I’m sorry,” Talon whispered as if he were a small child being scolded.
“You are sorry.” Daerwen laughed. “You are sorry for destroying all that we had together. Sorry is just not enough. You are Cûrion now. Whatever it was you wished for is not possible, so I suggest you leave before I change my mind on not killing you.”
“What about the captured elf?”
“That is business for elves to discuss. Leave now.” Daerwen felt the words char his lips as they left his mouth. What he really wanted to say was ‘I forgive you’.
Talon moved off. Just as he cleared the branches and found the path once more, he encountered Cuilwen standing there, hand gripped over her mouth and tears flowing freely down her cheeks. He met her saddened expression with one that said ‘leave it be’ and stalked past her heading straight for his room.
Moments later, Daerwen emerged and stopped. “What do you want Cuilwen?”
She removed her hand and a small sob escaped, “Why do you have to do this? Why can’t you try to see this was all some horrific mistake and listen to him?” she wailed. “Why can’t you see that you both miss each other?” Then her anger emerged, “Why do you have to be so stubborn!” She didn’t wait for a response and followed Talon back to his room.
Daerwen watched after her in shock. No warrior should speak to his or her king in such a tone, but Cuilwen just did. To say he was stunned was an understatement. Why exactly was he behaving this way indeed? It was a good question.
* * * *
Talon slammed to the door closed behind him and had only taken two steps into the room when it burst open to admit Cuilwen. She was in his arms in moments and held him tight, giving him the freedom to vent the grief for what just happened.
He buried his face in her hair and allowed her to comfort him, bodies pressed close together. After what felt like hours, he finally leaned back and looked into her wet eyes.
“I can’t do this much longer. I need your help. I need you to make him agree to send a small party back with me.” His long fingers stroked her cheek, wiping away her own tears. “Can you do that for me?”
“I already said I would do anything for you.” She moaned, tears threatening to fall again. “Damn you for ruining my moment of beating you!” Cuilwen slapped his arm and pushed away. “I should be celebrating at this moment and instead I’m crying. Damn you.” She teased him in an effort to get past the emotional torrent she just witnessed and her own anger at Daerwen.
He read into her motive and sighed. “He won’t change. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I followed him, but a small part of me hoped he’d listen. I was wrong. You are not to be angry with him. This is not about you.”
“I know that, but still. Why is he being this way?” she challenged.
“Because he has to. He is the one who banished me and would be perceived as weak if he changed his mind. Allow him that power,” he paused, “regardless if it’s wrong.”
She was outraged, “How can you just accept his behavior towards you? You should be furious. You have every right!” Cuilwen wasn’t sure what exactly she felt at the moment, but it wasn’t acceptance.
“Cuilwen. Stop.” He approached and gripped her shoulders in his strong hands forcing her to be pinned facing him. “Stop. I appreciate this. I do; but I need you to let it go. This was between my father
and me. I disobeyed him, got caught and was punished. He has to stand by that punishment or he is a poor leader. Don’t you see that? Not to mention, he is entitled to be angry with me for a lifetime if he so chooses. I’ll just have to accept the consequences of my actions, so let it go.”
“I don’t.” She pulled away and stalked beautifully to the opposite side of the room, clearly unhappy about his acceptance of this situation. She cast him a bitter glance, not trusting herself to not yell at him at the moment.
He followed her to where she stood and hugged her to his chest from behind. “It’s fine. Just help me get the approval to take you and your chosen warriors with me and I’ll go. I have no life here anymore, so his forgiveness really doesn’t matter.”
Cuilwen leaned back against him, feeling the firmness of his chest press into her back, “It means something to me.”
She stiffened when he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”
“Liar.”
He laughed while giving her one last hug then moved away. “I need you to leave now…for reasons I would rather not discuss.” The heat of sexual need wasn’t eliminated with his archery challenge as he’d hoped. He needed her gone before he did something he would deem unforgivable. This was most definitely not a life or death situation and bedding Cuilwen would be wrong.
“Talon—”
“No, please just go. I’ll see you later once I’ve rested. I just need some time alone,” he interrupted.
Cuilwen turned and watched him, clearly seeing something of his need but didn’t push it. She’d already pushed too far already and knew that if he stated he needed to be alone, she’d allow it without argument. “Very well, but I’ll be back around the evening meal. You aren’t allowed to join the main hall, but I have plans for us in the garden. You’re not an animal and I’ll not stand for your continued imprisonment.”