A War of Silver and Gold

by Minerva J. Kaelin

  She remained there for the rest of the evening, till the clock on the east wall rang twelve and the King pulled away from the Feast to rest in his quarters. She returned to her chamber then. She opened the door and closed it swiftly. She pressed her back against the cold wood and sighed. It was harder than she remembered. The acting of being a heartless bitch.

  She pulled away from the door and looked into Ael’s room. He hadn’t returned. At least, it was alright that one of them was having a great time. She went to her bathroom washed her face from the makeup and shed her clothes, she snuggled into her nightgown. She returned to back to her room. She let the green clothes in the chair before the vanity desk and placed the circlet and the belt on the desk.

  She went to her bed, pulled the covers and lay under them. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, but slumber didn’t come. She waited at her bed, cleared her mind without dwelling on thoughts about the men she killed that night.

  She knew that part of their death was her fault. She should have stood against the King, plead him to set them free, but they had almost committed murder and that was unforgivable.

  The door opened, not her room’s, but Ael’s. She had forgotten the door that linked their chambers opened. She cursed herself for being too careless before she closed her eyes and fought for slumber to take her. She heard him grunt as he went into his bathroom. She heard the tap of his shower and she heard him moaning.

  She blushed, she felt myself blushing. She didn’t know why, she never blushed, but Ael had planted a need, a want inside her. Maybe she wasn’t trying enough to shun him away, but she couldn’t keep herself from looking at him or being close to him.

  He must have gotten out of the shower and dried himself. She heard a rustle of clothing and light, feather-like steps approaching her. A silent, stifled groan escaped him. Maybe he was far too drunk.

  Her sanity screamed at her to turn around, push him out of the room and tuck him into bed, but she feigned sleep, lying on her side, and pressed her eyes firmly shut.

  The coverlets of her bed were pulled to the side; a shiver ran through her from the chilly, night air. The bed shifted under his magnanimous weight. He snuggled closer to her; his one arm circled her waist as he let his head fall onto the pillow and pulled the covers over them both.

  Deciding to let go for a moment, she moaned in the close proximity that was so rare for her. He thought, after all, that I was asleep. She pushed closer to his body, loving the warmth he emitted. Maybe he was drunk, but it didn’t matter in that moment. Under other circumstances she would have jumped from the bed and sliced his throat with her dagger, which was safely tucked underneath her pillow, enfolded in her fist, but she didn’t.

  He grunted softly, his thumb caressed the covered skin of her waist, and she shivered. He spoke; his voice was warm against her neck and silent, husky. “I had two willing she-elves begging me tonight, but I couldn’t even touch them. I thought only of you.” His breath came closer and she debated inside her whether he had understood that she was awake or he was making confessions to her sleeping state. “I can’t keep my mind away from you. You have enchanted me, Caradah.” He hissed and pressed himself closer to her. “Look what you do to me.”

  She wanted to moan, but she didn’t. She suppressed it. Indeed, under other conditions, she would have killed him already. She would have summoned her mighty dagger and plugged it on his flesh in a delirious state of independence. She pressed her eyes shut firmer and swallowed slowly, trying to calm her beating heart. He remained there, his arms securely placed over her waist, keeping her pinned to him.

  She loved the feeling. But she would never admit it. She couldn’t admit it, not to him.

  He kept her in his arms through the night. Sometimes sleep took her mind and he was still holding her tight, his soft breath on her neck lulled her to sleep, but also made her want to stay awake to savour in her memory this little moment of happiness.

  The only moment of happiness and fullness that I had experienced in my life.

  It was heart breaking, but it was true. She smiled through her slumber and moved closer to him. That was the only moment of contentedness she had felt in her life.

  17

  She woke up to an empty bed, but the sheets where Ael had slept the previous night were still warm. He mustn’t have had a long time since he left from her bed. She hadn’t had nightmares the previous night and for that, she was more than grateful. Ael’s presence was a soothing balm to the opened wounds of her past. His confession the night before was something she hadn’t expected. She had only shown him the harsh part of her, the fighter, the warrior, the Heir. It made her relaxed somehow, knowing that he had seen beneath those layers of hardened flesh and magic.

  Ael was by far the most surprising elf she had come to know, and that filled her with a will to smile on the inside and feel free and careless. It felt so wonderful when he told her he couldn’t be with other females because of her. It was pride that filled her that moment. She liked the fact that he was somehow only hers in a most strange way she couldn’t find the words to explain.

  She nuzzled her pillow, smiling sheepishly like a young elfling, before she pulled the covers off her and stood. She stretched her arms and yawned. She turned around and glanced about the room. The door, which joined their bedrooms, was open and the sounds of water splashing came into her room. She shook her head smiling like the fool she was.

  If she had been bolder in the matters of the heart and of the flesh, she would have marched into this bathroom, stripped from her clothes and joined him. Alas! She wasn’t bold; she shied away and crawled back when she was to face those matters. She turned away from his room; she grabbed her robe instead and went out to the balcony.

  The air was not as smoky, and about the Citadel there were illusions with green fields and flowers beyond the walls. It was a spell the King kept up at all times, an illusion for the citizens of the Citadel. The sun seemed to rise low in the pit of the skyline, towards the mountains, towards the Adanei lands.

  She shivered against the slightly cold winds that swept her hair back away from her face. Her keen ears caught the silent footsteps of the lycan as he walked closer, she must have been standing there for a few minutes, marvelling at the greatness of the King’s magic. He came to stand beside her.

  She swallowed the foolish thoughts of being terrified of giving in to her feelings and raised her head. She glanced at his relaxed brow, the slight smile tugging at his lips and moved closer. She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her cheek against his clothed chest, the strong, unyielding muscles flexed underneath. His scent, citrus and something else that must have only been him, made her dizzy, but she didn’t make her fuzziness known to him.

  He tensed underneath her touch like something had struck him hard on the head. She knew he never anticipated in his entire life; she would embrace him voluntarily. After yesterday though, after the lives, she took with her sword and his sweet, soothing words of the need he had for her. She had to grasp on something to give her strength. He wrapped his arms around her and plastered a small kiss on her hair.

  She sighed and opened her eyes. “He made me kill yesterday night.”

  He remained silent for a moment before he tightened his arms around her. “I am sorry.”

  She shook her head; he had nothing to be sorry for. The fault was wholly the King’s. “You couldn’t have done something to prevent it anyway.”

  “Still,” he trailed as she nuzzled deeper into his chest and sighed heavily.

  The sun seemed to have risen further up on the sky. It seemed better that way; it gave more life to the scenery before them. She had so many years to see that much green lands, even though the greenery was a mere illusion.

  “Did you have fun yesterday night?”

  He chuckled heartily, maybe relieved to believe that she had heard not one of his words. “It was fairly fine, but there was nothing that managed to catch my attention.”

&nbs
p; “Too bad. That means that you didn’t play with any she-elves?”

  He went rigid against her; the beating of his heart increased drastically. He pulled away. She snapped her eyes opened and glared at him. She knew she was pressing on matters spoke of only in the haze of drunkenness, but she couldn’t help it. She had acquired a liking for his annoyance.

  “She-elves are a disaster for me, actually.”

  His eyes left hers and concentrated somewhere behind her, maybe on the green, enchanted fields, he seemed too absorbed thinking, contemplating his fate. “Pity. I knew though your preferences were she-wolves.”

  He took a step forward, trapping her between his chest and the tall handrails of the balcony. “And women.”

  Her mind grasped around his innuendo. He knew that she was half human, he knew that well enough. She grasped the meaning of his hint too quickly and too brazenly. She straightened her back and glanced up at him; unease grasped around her spine and held her stiff by the throat.

  “This is not actually going to take you somewhere.”

  He didn’t chuckle as she anticipated he would do. He remained calm and nonchalant. His hands didn’t even twitch at his sides. She couldn’t read him well like she could do with the rest of the world. It agitated her; it wrapped around her gut and made her so angry she couldn’t see within an inch in front of her.

  “I think it will.” He answered, his voice a bit husky maybe from desire, but also maybe from anger because she wasn’t giving in to him. Not now, not without a fight.

  “I have a meeting with the King. Step aside.”

  He chuckled then and leant farther against her, his eyes bore into hers and a silent shiver of desire crashed through her. She prayed that he couldn’t see it, feel it, but it was almost impossible being that close to him. He smiled; she swore under her breath and tipped her chin higher.

  “Your body has a mind of its own, though.”

  She pushed hard against his chest and he pulled away from her, she rushed into her room as she grabbed her robe and shook her head angrily, cursing herself that she even allowed herself the comfort of relaxing in his arms. Oh! Shit, shit!

  + + +

  The King, as far as her knowledge went, needed only one thing and had only one purpose to hold such a council. She had gone to the council room earlier than expected, her face unfeeling and mind shielded from possible intruders. She didn’t know what to expect.

  She had seated herself on one of the twelve thrones around the room, crossed her legs and waited. When people began gathering in the chamber, she began counting them. Apart from the horse of Lords, there were others too; advisors, heirs and commanders, generals. She hadn’t anticipated that, not such great a gathering.

  The King had one sole purpose, he wanted to go to war against the Adanei because he was certain his sources were correct and the Adanei were gathering forces to go against Nevdor. There was a group of people that objected at this. Lord Thearton was most insistent to stop this madness.

  The King never wanted anything else than taking over the Adanei lands, he needed power, he fed on it. It was his sole life-source. Cassia stood from the throne and the room became silent as they directed their eyes to her, waiting to listen to her speech.

  She was ready to confront them. She knew that after her speech many would want to follow her and not the King, but that didn’t matter. She cleared her throat, her hand gripping her sword tightly.

  “Beware, Lords,” she said as her eyes skimmed through the thrones and she stood in the middle of the circle. “The King holds power beyond any of you.” She could feel the King humming in approval of her words. She knew he would be fuming with hate in the next words, though. “However, he is afraid of what you can do united. There is great terror going on in the lands around us. But it is not the Adanei that we should be afraid of violating our borders. The Adanei are only fighting back.” She turned on the balls of her feet and glanced at the King. “My sources, my Liege reported to me; a few days ago there were troops –our troops- on the borders sabotaging the Wall separating our races.”

  The King laughed, obviously alarmed from her speech. “What are you implying, General?”

  “There are two obvious answers. Maybe troops have gone rogue. However, that is highly doubtful, all the troops are brainwashed, you and I know this perfectly well.”

  “The second one?” Someone asked from the back of the room.

  “You commanded them, your Highness.”

  The King laughed then and shook his head. She knew that it was the King’s talent to hide his thoughts and fears. “That is certainly the most absurd thing I have ever heard.”

  “Maybe it isn’t. My sources are reliable.”

  “You are lying, daughter.”

  “Prove me wrong.”

  She crooked an eyebrow to the King. She knew that he always favoured a challenge, which was what she presented him with. She moved away from the middle of the room and returned to her seat. Under other circumstances, she would have tried to avoid this council, but she was the Heir and she had responsibilities to her people and to herself. Her good name had never been at stake, she preserved it well and there was no possibility she would have given to her people a reason to defy her. She hadn’t tortured them secretly and she hadn’t hurt anyone of her own.

  Not like the King had done.

  She rested her hands against the armrests of the throne beside her grandfather’s and narrowed her eyes to Lord Abertron. His long blond hair and blue eyes were the only evidence he was, indeed, Ael’s father. Abertron was her rival in many ways. He was jealous of her, of having so many blessings from the King while he was given with a piece of land and nothing else on his name.

  She prayed that Ael wouldn’t have to meet that despicable elf. It was pathetic of Abertron to erase his son’s name from history because of the beliefs his offspring held on. She wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have tried to kill her own offspring. Alas! She couldn’t have any. That was the most malicious thing she had ever encountered. It was atrocious, it made her guts hurl. She needed to relieve the pain in her stomach, but she couldn’t let the King know she had been fairly intimidated.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at Abertron with disgust. She hoped he hadn’t seen Ael or heard his name being uttered throughout the court. She was thankful Abertron never talked with the servants or socialised with nothing but Lords and Ladies of the High Court. She was ready to skin him alive should he lay a finger on Ael. Ael was her responsibility too; a citizen of her city and no one had any right to him but her.

  If Abertron wanted to touch him, he would have to pass through her, over her dead body which he knew was quietly impossible to happen.

  “Is there any possible evidence that your words are not plain lies, General?” The King asked, a smile playing over his lips.

  She knew that he was toying with her, he always liked to toy with her and what she was. “There is no evidence in yours, my Liege.”

  The King never tried to tie her down or force her to neglect what she was, he needed a direct Heir for his throne and he would have never settled if she was to deny her heritage. She was frolicking with him, too. The King never despised a good game as long as he had the upper hand in it.

  He nodded and returned his attention to the rest of the attendants. “Is there any chance the General’s words hold true?”

  Lord Thearton spoke then with a hasty and sharp tone. “That worm Abertron would have done anything to make the Heir look foolish before us. I believe-”

  “We don’t care about what you believe, Thearton,” Abertron spoke; his voice was calm and sophisticated as always. That bastard.

  She doubted there was a person in this room that didn’t nurture a hate for Abertron. He was a monster, body and soul.

  A hazardous situation erupted into the chamber like every time these two Lords were together in a room. Cassia stood from her throne and shouted throughout the room, “I haven’t come here
to listen to your pretentiousness.” The King’s glance turned to her; she withheld all of his attention. “While you are fighting the enemy is plotting against us. There must be put an end to this. I don’t care what Thearton has done to you Abertron, I care for our people and for our lands.”

  She turned her head and glanced towards the King; she raised her chin high and held the King’s eyes. “Did you know that Lord Abertron had a son, your Majesty?”

  “Your Highness,” Abertron stood from his throne. It angered her, the fact that he tried to lie to the King and force him into believing lies. But most of all it angered her because she wanted to avenge for Ael.

  She summoned a whiplash of red magic with her left hand, whorls of burning enchantments and rusting, thick dust, erupted from her fingertips. She took in a deep breath and threw the leash around Abertron’s neck. He deserved every ill treatment she could give him. He was the worst of the worst. She tugged violently and the elf clashed against the marble floor in a heap of blue elvish robes and golden jewels. She kept the leash around his neck.

  “Don’t interrupt me, you filth!” She screamed and tugged at the whiplash with more fierceness. He seemed to nod under the heavy influence of the leash. She lowered her magic and straightened her back. Abertron was the most filthy elf she knew, his soul was so polluted and so contaminated that she couldn't have done anything else but spat at him.

  “Did you know, my King?” She asked again as she turned to look at him again.

  “I didn’t. And what happened with the son?”

  “He,” she pointed to the elf on the floor. “Fed his son to the wolves.” She smirked as a sinister thought crossed the threshold of her mind. “Do I need to remind you; what is the punishment for the intentional death of such a close relative?”

  “Dismemberment.” The King answered sporting a smirk of his own. They were the same being, the same bad, sinister, foul being cast into two different bodies. He had made her this way, it was his fault, but it was her own too.