Griffin's Shadow

by Lelsie Ann Moore

  Raidan shook his head. “Perhaps the girl won’t want the child.”

  “Of course she’ll want it! It’s a royal bastard!”

  “First my brother and now my own son!” Raidan muttered with bitter amusement, unable to ignore the irony of the situation. “Raidu must learn to deal with his own messes,” he stated flatly. “Since he’s admitting it’s his, he’ll do the honorable thing and support the child and its mother, but with his own money, not ours.”

  They sat quietly for a time, each of them lost in thought.

  I must not let events control me! As soon as they do, all is lost!

  All of these things can and will be resolved, my love, but you needn’t worry about them now… Let me soothe you, Husband…

  Taya folded his hands in hers and leaned forward to gently press her lips to his. Raidan felt the familiar, welcome stirring in his loins that always happened whenever his wife touched him. The anger and frustration built up within him drained away, and desire took its place. He pulled Taya hard against him to deepen their kiss. The wards remained in place; no one could enter the room without Taya’s leave. They were completely safe.

  Raidan reached up and removed the ornate gold pins that held Taya’s hair in place. With a shake of her head, she sent her auburn tresses tumbling down around her shoulders and back. Her jade-green eyes smoldered as she let her simple lounging robe slip to the floor. Languidly, she moved from the window seat to the couch and lay upon it, ready to receive him. Raidan took a moment to savor the sight of his wife’s nakedness, then eagerly freed himself from the confines of his own clothing.

  With a heartfelt sigh, he sank into Taya’s embrace. After so many years together, they no longer needed words when it came to the mutual pleasuring of their bodies, and at the exact moment of climax, Raidan felt his consciousness merge with his wife’s; for a time, they were as one, sailing together on successive waves of ecstasy.

  It was this unity of consciousness that Raidan so craved, loved, and valued. Because he could only achieve it with Taya, he had no desire to make love to any other woman.

  Afterwards, they lay together on the couch, sipping cool, sweet wine from silver goblets. As Raidan stroked his wife’s smooth back, his thoughts were wistful.

  Ai, when we were young, Wife, you could get me up again with just a smile…Ah, well. That time is past now. Age does take its toll.

  This realization did not make him sad, though. The intensity of their lovemaking had only grown stronger as they had aged, even as the frequency had declined.

  It’s an equitable trade.

  He breathed in the intermingled scents of jasmine and sex and allowed his mind to float. Taya shifted in his arms, then sat up and looked down at him, frowning “Husband…” she started, but he laid a finger on her lips.

  “Hush, Wife. Not now,” he whispered. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter 7

  The Search Is Over

  "Jelena… Wake up.”

  Jelena awoke with a start. She had no memory of having fallen asleep. She opened her eyes and extended her arms to Ashinji, a drowsy smile curving her lips. The bed in which she lay felt soft and comfortable, and she would not have stirred for anyone except her husband.

  Despite her weariness and the lateness of the hour, the sight of his face sent a tingle of desire coursing through her loins. “What are you waiting for? Come to bed,” she whispered invitingly.

  “Jelena, listen to me,” Ashinji murmured. “You have to get up and get dressed now. The king has commanded that you be brought to him.”

  Jelena sat up, all sleepiness evaporated. “The king has sent for me? Now? But…but it’s the middle of the night!” In the dim light cast by the single lamp, Ashinji’s eyes looked as dark as the sea during a tempest and she saw fear in their depths.

  Her heart leapt like a deer. “Ashi, what’s wrong? What is happening?” She reached out to him and the coverlets slipped off her bare torso. Ashinji drew her to him and held her so tightly, she gasped. She could feel his body shaking. He caressed her breasts and she responded with a sigh, her nipples hardening under his gentle fingers. She buried her face against his neck, drinking in his scent.

  As she slipped her hands beneath his tunic, he groaned and pulled away.

  “We can’t do this now. My father is waiting downstairs. Get up and I’ll help you dress.” He twitched back the covers and scooped her up, setting her on her feet by the side of the bed.

  “I…I haven’t had time to unpack…I have only my old clothes…. What am I supposed to wear?” She stood with arms wrapped around her body, shivering, though the room was not cold.

  “Your old clothes will have to do. I don’t think the king will notice what you are wearing.” He reached into the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out Jelena’s tunic and trousers.

  As she donned her garments, she watched Ashinji from the corner of her eye; she could see him struggling to remain calm. Jelena swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “We’ve spoken of this, Ashi. If the king is my real father, it changes nothing.”

  “You’re wrong, love. It’ll change everything,” Ashinji said quietly.

  Jelena sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on her boots, then rose to check herself in the looking glass. She plucked at the coiled mass of her hair, fluffing it into a less unruly arrangement, then squared her shoulders. “I’m ready,” she declared. Ashinji pulled her close and kissed her neck. “Don’t be afraid, Ashi,” she whispered. “I’m your wife now. No one, not even the king, can separate us!”

  “The king can do whatever he likes with his own,” Ashinji replied, then took her hand. Together, they descended the stairs to the sitting room.

  Sen and Amara stood side by side in the center of the room. Both of them fixed their eyes upon Jelena as she entered. Without warning, a wave of dizziness overcame her and she staggered against Ashinji, who locked his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

  “What is it, love?” Ashinji’s face looked stricken.

  “Jelena! Are you feeling ill, my dear?” Sen must have noticed her momentary distress.”

  “I just felt a little dizzy…It’s nearly passed,” she said. Ashinji stared at her, frowning. “Ashi…really. It’s passed, I promise,” she added. “I’m just very nervous about meeting the king.”

  “Jelena…This is what you’ve been waiting for!” Sen laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Tonight, your search ends.”

  “May Ashi come with me?” Jelena asked.

  Sen nodded. “We will accompany you to the king’s presence, but he will speak with you alone. Come now, let’s not keep him waiting.”

  Amara kissed Jelena lightly on the forehead. “Don’t be afraid…” then added in mindspeech, Remember who you are!

  Jelena nodded in reply.

  “I don’t know when we’ll be back. Don’t wait up!” Sen called over his shoulder as they departed. “She will, of course,” he muttered as he closed the doors behind them.

  Sen led the way through the dim halls of the night-shrouded castle. Jelena gripped Ashinji’s hand as if her very life depended on not letting go. After passing through a set of large doors guarded by a pair of stone-faced soldiers, the three of them walked through a final set of doors into a small room furnished with a writing table, a couch, and several stools. The man seated at the table looked up as they entered.

  Jelena knew immediately that this must be Keizo Onjara.

  The guard who had announced them withdrew, and the king stood. Jelena dropped to one knee and lowered her head in the Soldaran style as Sen and Ashinji bowed.

  “Majesty, this is my son’s wife, Jelena,” Sen stated. Jelena sensed, rather than saw, the king move to stand in front of her. His presence felt like a glowing furnace, blasting her with energy. She felt something within her respond, tugging like a hound eager to slip its lead. She dared to look up.

  Eyes grey as a winter storm met hers, yet she saw no coldness there.

 
“Thank you, old friend,” the king replied, then addressed Ashinji. “Captain Sakehera, I need to speak to your wife in private, if I may.” His level voice revealed nothing of what he might be thinking.

  Jelena looked over her shoulder at her husband. The king didn’t need his permission, of course, but Jelena saw that Ashi appreciated the gesture of respect. He nodded and replied, “Of course, Majesty.” A single tear gathered at the corner of his left eye, but he reached up and dashed it away before it could fall. Sen looked at her and smiled, then he and Ashinji exited the room, leaving Jelena alone with the king.

  “You may sit,” Keizo said, indicating a cushioned stool to her right. Jelena got up off her knee and settled upon the stool. She folded her hands in her lap and kept her eyes downcast.

  The king sat in the chair at his writing table. “How well do you speak Siri-dar?” he inquired.

  “Well enough, your Majesty,” Jelena answered. “I am getting better every day.”

  “Your accent is still quite heavy,” he commented, but she heard no unkindness or criticism in his tone. “Your name is Jelena.” He phrased it as a statement, not a question. “Tell me about yourself, Jelena.”

  Jelena raised her eyes.

  Ashinji and Sen both, at times, had referred to the king as Silverlock, and Jelena now knew why. The hair from which he derived his nickname fell unbound to just below his shoulders. He looked to be about the same age as Sen, with a lean and ascetically handsome face. Fine lines creased the corners of his eyes.

  He wore a deep blue tunic and trousers of raw silk, richly decorated with an embroidered pattern of sleek, calico carp. Padded socks and leather sandals covered his feet. He wore no jewelry save a large ruby in his left ear and a heavy signet ring of white gold upon his right hand. He held his left hand closed around something.

  The king studied her closely, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face. Jelena had to struggle not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. He tilted his head to one side, expectant.

  Nervously, she cleared her throat.

  “I was born at a place known as Amsara, in the castle of my uncle the duke. My mother was his only sister.” Jelena told her story concisely, with little embellishment. She had no desire to inspire pity in this man, nor did she want any special favors from him. She only wanted to know if she had the right to call him ‘Father’.

  As she spoke, Silverlock continued to study her, but his manner remained reassuring, and she felt her apprehension slowly melt away.

  “And so, my father-in-law brought me with him to Sendai, so that I might ask your help, Majesty.” Jelena fell silent, her story concluded.

  “Sen Sakehera is my oldest friend. We were boys together,” Keizo said, a wistful note coloring his voice. He rolled the hidden object around in his left hand, then opened his fingers to reveal Jelena’s ring. “But even Sen didn’t know certain things about me…until tonight.”

  “That is my ring, Majesty, but…of course, you already know that. Did it tell you anything…about who my father might be?” Jelena asked. She almost dared not breathe.

  “Let me tell you a story now,” the king replied softly. “Many years ago, a young man set out on a journey to visit the home of an old friend who lived far to the east, a friend he hadn’t seen in awhile. While on the road, he heard stories of increased trouble with humans in the border areas to the southeast. Because he held a high position in the land, he felt it was his duty to investigate, and so he made a detour for that purpose.”

  “While riding through the forest along the border, the man stumbled upon an armed human patrol. The humans immediately gave chase, and the man rode for his life, knowing that if the soldiers caught him, they would kill him. He managed to lose his pursuers, but his horse stumbled badly and threw the man down into a dry creek bed. He landed hard and broke his leg.”

  Jelena gasped in dismay, but said nothing, not wanting to disturb the king’s train of thought.

  “He lay for a very long time in that hot, dry streambed, tormented by pain and thirst. He nearly lost his life, but the Goddess at last granted him mercy and sent his deliverance in the form of a woman. This woman shielded him from his enemies and tended his body while his injuries healed.”

  “Ai,” the king sighed, “those weeks were so long, pain-filled, and fraught with peril… not just for the man, but for his caregiver as well, for, you see, they were in constant danger of discovery. The man pleaded with the woman to leave him and return to her home. He knew that if she were found harboring him, she would share his fate. Her own people would kill her, just as they would kill him. She refused.”

  It’s just as Claudia told me…as my mother told her, Jelena thought. She dared to look directly at the king as he spoke, and imagined what her mother’s feelings must have been like while gazing at the same face.

  “A strange thing began to happen between the two of them,” the king continued, “although, if one thinks about it, it doesn’t seem so strange after all. Like a rose through winter snow, love bloomed in their hearts. The strength of his feelings took the man completely by surprise, but the woman confessed to him that she had known, from the beginning, that this was meant to be.”

  “They spent three, joyous, heart-wrenching days as lovers. The man, despite his pain, made love to his dear one with intense, bittersweet passion. They both cried many tears of anguish, for they knew their love could never leave the shelter of their hiding place. It had to end when he became strong enough to make his escape.”

  “On the day he left, the man gave the woman the only possession of his that he had to give. A small remembrance, perhaps, but after all, it was enough.” He leaned forward, his eyes locked to hers, then said, “I slipped my ring onto Drucilla’s finger and left her behind. I never looked back, dared not, for if I had, I might not have had the strength to leave, and we would both be dead now. And you would have never been born.”

  Jelena felt a mantle of calm descend upon her. All of her anxiety melted before the power of the king’s revelation.

  Keizo slipped her ring onto the middle finger of his left hand, then extended both hands, palms down, towards her. Her ring was an exact match to the one he wore on his right hand. Both rings gleamed softly in the lamplight, but the king’s seemed brighter, somehow. Jelena could only stare, first at Keizo’s hands—so fine and beautiful—then at his face.

  “One final test remains, a confirmation, really, of what I know in my heart to be true.” The king removed the ring from his right hand and held it up before Jelena’s eyes. “This is the White Griffin, the Ring of State that has passed down from one Onjara sovereign to the next. It has been over a thousand years since its making, and it contains powers that only one of true Onjara blood can awaken. Your ring is a copy of this one. ” He held out his hand. “Put it on, Jelena.”

  Jelena looked at the ring on his palm, so like hers and yet…. “What if I put it on and nothing happens?” she whispered.

  “Something will happen,” the king declared. His tone left no room for doubt. Jelena picked the ring up off his palm and slipped it onto her right index finger.

  The metal flared to life and glowed like a blue-white star, startling Jelena and dazzling her eyes. She felt the energy of the ring’s magic pulling at her; deep within herself, her own magic—that which Amara called the Key— stirred in response. She looked at the king in astonishment. “It…I…” she stammered, unable to say anything more.

  Keizo nodded in understanding. “Jelena, I could not have known that I left Drucilla with child, though I plead guilty to pushing the potential consequences of acting on our love from my mind. It was terribly selfish of me, and I realize that my excuses can only sound disgustingly weak to you…you who had to suffer from those very consequences. I never would have left you among your mother’s people if I had known about you. Somehow, I would have found a way to rescue you.”

  Deep within her, Jelena felt a dam burst. She opened her mouth to cry out, but a mere tri
ckle of sound escaped her lips, a barely breathed word.

  “Father…”

  The king opened his arms. “Come, Daughter,” he whispered.

  Jelena went to him, laid her head upon his chest, and lost herself in his embrace.

  This can’t be happening! I must be dreaming and I’m going to wake up any moment!

  “What are you thinking, Jelena?”

  Jelena sighed and opened her eyes. Keizo gazed earnestly at her, faint worry lines creasing his forehead. “I was just wondering when I was going to awaken from this beautiful dream,” she answered.

  “‘Tis no dream, child. I’ll gladly pinch you to prove it.” He smiled, and Jelena’s heart fluttered. That this man…this man, of all men, was her father seemed truly astounding.

  “I…I do not know what to say, how to act. I’m just a…a…” She searched in vain for the correct word but the king spoke before she could.

  “You are a daughter of the House of Onjara. In ancient high Siri-dar, onjara means ‘griffin’. Our line has ruled unbroken in Alasiri for over a thousand years. Never doubt your blood, Jelena.”

  “You said that you loved my mother. How is that possible, that an elf could love a human?”

  The sweet notes of a nightingale’s song wafted in through the open window on a whisper of breeze. The glow cast by the brass lamps highlighted the planes of the king’s face. His eyes were pensive. “Does not Ashinji Sakehera love you? It’s easy, Daughter, when a man and a woman see each other as just that, and they refuse to allow petty distinctions to cloud their ability to give and receive love. Drucilla, to me, was my savior. I didn’t see a human female when I looked at her, I saw the woman I loved.”

  Jelena looked down at her palms and saw the callused, work-roughened hands of a servant, not the fine smooth ones of a princess.

  How will I ever find a place in my father’s refined world, she thought.

  A sudden wave of fear swept over her. “I…I cannot do this!” she gasped. “I haven’t the slightest idea of how to be a…a princess! I was raised as a servant! I’m still amazed that Lord and Lady Sakehera have accepted me, but I don’t for a moment believe that any of your other lords will. You don’t have to pretend, Father. I know my very existence will cause trouble for you.” Desperately, she looked up and dared to meet the king’s eyes, searching for the slightest hint of anger or regret, but she saw only tenderness and understanding.