Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition

by Vijaya Schartz

  “Thank you, my lady.” The lass rose suddenly, dropping her needlework on the chair.

  “And Ceinwyn?” Pressine called at her retreating back.

  The girl turned around half-way to the door. “My lady?”

  “You do not need to sneak out like a thief at night.” Pressine smiled at the girl’s surprised look. “You are not a child anymore, and I am no jailer.”

  The lass blushed a deep crimson. “You knew?”

  “I pay attention.” Pressine picked a blue thread for her work. “You were quite taken with the Edling, even as a young girl, but in the past few months I have seen you blossom into a contented woman. Only love can perform such miracles.”

  Ceinwyn flashed a timid smile, then she curtsied and left.

  “Young love,” Pressine sighed. Although still young herself, she’d never really been a child. Too many responsibilities had weighed upon her.

  She hoped Ceinwyn would have a good influence on Mattacks. That, and the tiny drop of Fae blood in his veins, along with his father’s loving guidance, might help the Edling become a decent king when the time came. He was still young and impetuous, but in time, he might learn wisdom.

  Pressine’s mind returned to Elinas. Not only could she not reach his mind, since she’d lost her gifts, but she could send no word of the stillbirth, or of her remarkable recovery. Winter storms and heavy snowfalls plagued the countryside, preventing messengers from riding.

  Beyond the shuttered windows, the courtyard had grown quiet. The servants ventured outside as little as possible, to draw water from the well, fetch salted meat from the larder, visit the midden, or restock the piles of logs and peat by the fireside.

  As time passed slowly, Pressine missed the activity of the great hall. While the larger animals remained safely stabled, she imagined goats, ducks and chickens roaming the halls, sharing their warmth at night with the servants. As in years past, it would be a time for storytelling, spinning wool, weaving, and reading stories aloud by the fire.

  Pressine’s bodily aches had vanished quickly enough, but she still recuperated from the emotional wounds of the tragic stillbirth. She coped with remnants of guilt and grief at losing her firstborn. Secretly, she thanked the harsh weather for keeping Elinas away. At least, he would not blunder into her chambers and trigger the curse by breaking his oath.

  She shivered at the thought that he might forget his promise. The wrath of the Goddess terrified her. She must be out of childbed before facing him. When the dangerous time had passed, their love would sizzle again. Reunions after a long absence always ignited new sparks of passion between them, and she wanted to be ready to satisfy her beloved husband’s hunger.

  * * *

  In Whithorn’s hall, Elinas enjoyed the hospitality of King Emry of Galloway, along with many royal guests detained for weeks after Imbolc celebrations, because of inclement weather. His return journey after Dewain’s passing had included short visits to several barons and tribal kings. After so many weeks away from home, Pressine’s health weighed heavily on his mind. But a ruler never bared his feelings in formal surroundings, no matter how great the pleasure or the grief.

  Sitting in the alcove of a high window, Elinas savored a ewer of Frankish wine and a game of chess with Prince Pepin of Aquitaine, by the feeble light of another dreary day. His opponent, barely older than Mattacks and wearing a bright yellow tunic, sat in a black leather chair. The young man’s long eyelashes shadowed piercing blue eyes attesting to his Frankish ancestry.

  “Mind your bishop, Lord Prince,” Elinas warned, playing the congenial guest.

  “You left me no choice.” The younger man’s charming accent reminded Elinas of Pressine’s.

  “No, I did not.” Elinas smiled.

  The Frankish prince moved his knight out of harm’s way and pushed back a strand of light brown hair from his face. “Your mastery of the game makes me feel inadequate. But I like a challenge and will not surrender.”

  “Good. Neither will I.” Elinas snatched the exposed bishop, an exquisite piece carved in a segment of walrus ivory. “Years of experience taught me never to underestimate my enemies, not even after I crushed them.”

  The central brasier crackled, releasing the sweet scent of birch wood. High flames projected moving shadows on the polished chessboard and chased the chill in the air.

  “Say, Lord King.” Prince Pepin’s gaze focused on the spread of the game. “Your oldest son is of marriageable age, is he not?”

  “Certainly.” Elinas eyed the young man, admiring the offhanded ease with which he broached such a delicate subject.

  “My father refuses to travel in winter, but he asked me to find a suitable match for my younger sister, Lady Radegonde of Duras and Florimond.” The prince moved his rook, then glanced up. “I believe she would feel honored to marry into your family.”

  Elinas hid his surprise under a mask of concentration. When did his small kingdom attract the attention of the mightiest family in the empire? “It would be a great honor to have a lady of Aquitaine as the future queen of Strathclyde,” he commented guardedly.

  “A granddaughter of Charlemagne, no less.” The young man looked proud of his ancestry.

  “Who could refuse such a match?” Elinas moved his queen to a strategic position. “But I wonder what directed your father’s eye toward my modest kingdom.”

  Prince Pepin leaned against the leather back of his chair. “The success of your military campaigns has heightened your reputation, sire. My father Louis believes your kingdom will encompass more than just Strathclyde when you pass it on.”

  Elinas chuckled. “He gives much trust to my future luck in battles.”

  Pepin steepled his fingers and cocked an eyebrow. “The western world sees in you the future high king of Alba. Soon, you will become as legendary as the Pendragons of old.”

  “I see...” Elinas could indeed guess the great emperor’s design. After ruling the continent through family ties, Charlemagne wanted to secure the Christian fealty of troublesome Alba. “And what if I fail in my quest for unification?”

  The young prince gave him an amused smile. “Judging by your mean game of chess, sire, I wager you will succeed.” Pepin stared down at his touching fingertips and pursed his lips. “I hear that the Edling is a very capable young man, fostered in these very halls. An exemplary Christian according to the abbot of St. Ninian.”

  “Indeed he is...” Elinas congratulated himself for giving his Edling a Christian tutor.

  But he also knew that imposing Christianity throughout the civilized world figured eminently among Charlemagne’s designs. And the girl’s father was nicknamed Louis the Pious for good reason. Such a Christian queen for the stern Christian Edling would bring Alba under Charlemagne’s control.

  Needing time to think, Elinas returned his attention to the game and moved his knight with a flourish. “Checkmate!” he announced triumphantly.

  “I believe my defeat is complete.” Prince Pepin refilled the wine cups and relaxed into a friendly smile. “So, will you consider the offer?”

  “By all means, Lord Prince.” Elinas sipped the smooth Frankish wine, rolling it against his palate, enjoying the rare treat before swallowing. “Whithorn is my last visit on this journey, and I do not intend to tarry. As soon as the roads clear, I shall ride home and discuss the matter with my son.”

  “And I shall await your answer in Aquitaine.” Prince Pepin drank, fixing the king with an appraising eye. “You have until Easter before I contact any other prospect.”

  Wondering whether the offer constituted a blessing or a curse, Elinas returned the measuring gaze. “Tell your father Louis that I appreciate the rare honor. You will hear from me before then.”

  Elinas looked up when one of his young servants came running. “A messenger from Dumfries castle just arrived, my king.”

  “At long last! What are you waiting for? Bring the man to me.” Elinas hoped his eagerness did not show too much. “This means the roads are
passable again,” he added for Pepin’s benefit.

  The messenger hurried to the alcove. Icicles decorated his beard, and he looked grateful for the many brasiers in the hall. The melting snow from his coat dripped on the marble floor. With trembling hands, he extracted two sealed parchments from a leather sleeve, then handed them to Elinas with a bow. Upon a wave of the king’s hand, the messenger retreated to the end of the hall, where soldiers and guards gathered around long trestle tables.

  Recognizing Pressine’s elegant scroll on one of the missives and Mattacks’ sober handwriting on the other, Elinas rose and bowed slightly to his chess partner.

  “Prince Pepin, you make a worthy opponent.” As he said it, Elinas wondered whether the Prince of Aquitaine had lost the game on purpose, to give his request a better chance. “I shall see you again before I leave.”

  Pepin of Aquitaine casually raised his cup and smiled in friendly dismissal. Or did he already drink to the health of the future couple?

  Crossing the great hall, Elinas strolled toward an empty alcove, nodding right and left in response to greetings from other guests. After learning of Pressine’s dire condition through their magic conversation, he had feared the worst. The gods be praised, she was alive, and well enough to write. Good news indeed! He grinned with eagerness as he broke the red wax of Pressine’s sealed parchment.

  The contents of the missive only increased his excitement . Although the child had died, he could not feel sorrow for a stillborn runt. What mattered was that his precious queen fared as well as could be expected. She loved him and did not fault her husband for causing her suffering, as many women did after a difficult birth. It was time to go home to his loving family.

  Mattacks’ message, although confirming Pressine’s, spread doubt and confusion in his mind. Elinas understood that the queen had used Fae powers to save her life and accepted that. But what about the child’s club foot? Would all of Pressine’s children be affected the same way, as the Edling suggested?

  The story of a reckless ride into the woods and Pressine fornicating with wolves sounded downright preposterous. The Edling’s words made no sense. It could not be true. Did the crown prince suffer from hallucinations after indulging too long in a religious fast? Elinas would have to investigate. For the safety of the land, the future king had to be sound of mind, especially if he were to marry Charlemagne’s granddaughter.

  Elinas hoped the Edling would be well enough to consider the proposal made by Prince Pepin of Aquitaine. A tempting alliance to be sure. Bred and raised among Frankish royalty to become a queen, Lady Radegonde of Duras and Florimond would bring prestige and nobility as well as charm and wealth to the Edling and to Strathclyde.

  Elinas inquired from several nobles. All spoke highly of lady Radegonde’s delicate beauty, perfect manners, and agreeable nature. He shook his head at the irony. Charlemagne, who never allowed his own daughters to wed, apparently had no qualms about using his granddaughters as political pawns.

  But the old emperor’s iron grip on the western world would soon end with his reign, and none of Charlemagne’s three sons had inherited their father’s ambition and abilities. Elinas realized with awe that Pressine’s Goddess had kept her promise to elevate Strathclyde. This fortuitous offer would propel the small kingdom to the highest spheres of influence.

  * * *

  By the time the messenger returned to Dumfries to announce the king’s imminent arrival, Pressine breathed easier. She fussed in front of the small mirror, adjusting the sash on her favorite blue dress. Her body had not suffered from the pregnancy. On the contrary, Pressine had blossomed from the lithe figure of a young maiden into a beautiful woman with devilishly appealing curves.

  More importantly, her powers had returned, and the threat of the curse had passed. Now out of childbed and relieved from confinement, she could meet Elinas and celebrate his homecoming with the rest of the household. She felt better than ever, whole again. Most of all, she could spend the night in her husband’s arms, enveloped in the warmth of his enduring love.

  Smiling at her reflection, she pinched her cheeks to bring more color to her face. Then she snatched a hooded mantle of rich brown wool and threw it over her shoulders. “Ceinwyn, are you coming?”

  “Yes, my lady.” The lass stopped short in front of Pressine. “You look beautiful,” she exclaimed with a smile. “The king will be pleased.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Pressine laughed as they crossed into the courtyard in the frigid afternoon. Would this winter ever end?

  As Pressine waited in front of the great hall, the king and his retinue rode through the main gate, cheered by the guards and the entire household. Sliding down from his horse in front of Pressine, Elinas embraced her in an overwhelming display of affection.

  Pressine welcomed his strong arms, and lost herself in his woody smell. Life made sense again when she surrendered to the safety of his embrace. She pressed her wanting mouth against his cold lips and unkempt beard, savoring the faint taste of spiced wine on his breath. While savoring his heady kiss, she realized that Elinas had become the center of her world.

  As he gently detached himself from her, she let go of him with reluctance.

  After hugging his youngest children from his previous queen, Elinas exchanged a few words with Mattacks. He seemed concerned about the Edling. Now recovered from his wounds, Mattacks cast the only shadow on their happiness. Would he tell Elinas about the incident in the woods? No. It would be too humiliating for him to admit defeat against a woman.

  But with her returning powers, Pressine sensed much repressed hatred and frustration in the young man’s mind. For the remainder of this day, however, she decided to ignore it. Tonight, Elinas belonged to her, and the Edling would just have to wait.

  Elinas smiled and squeezed his oldest son’s shoulder. “It feels good to be home.” He turned to Pressine and offered his arm. “But I am frozen solid.”

  Pressine accepted his arm. “I had the servants heat water for a bath.”

  Elinas winked. “Keep me company while I bathe.”

  “I dare not disobey my king.” Pressine chuckled at his puzzled expression and walked with him through the courtyard, toward the royal buildings.

  * * *

  When Pressine looked away as they walked, Elinas flinched at her mention of disobedience. But he would not bring up the matter of her forbidden ride to the woods. He refused to let Mattacks’ accusations spoil this long anticipated reunion with his beloved wife. The questions churning in his mind could wait until morning.

  There was not enough time before dinner to fully demonstrate his all consuming love to Pressine, but after dismising the servants, they stole a few more kisses and chatted with exuberance while he soaked and relaxed his sore muscles, washing away the cold and the fatigue of the road.

  “You look even more beautiful than I remember,” he ventured, avoiding painful topics.

  “It is your presence that makes me glow.” The laugh died in Pressine’s throat as her face grew serious. “I missed you all these weeks.”

  She sat on the side of the wooden tub. Her gray eyes misted as she gazed into the distance, but as if taking his cue, she did not mention anything unpleasant. “I am glad you are back. I feel safe when you are close.”

  “I am a lucky man.” Elinas sighed. “And happy to be home.” He kissed the palm of her hand, then closed his eyes in contentment.

  Once clean and warm, in extremely good spirits, Elinas wanted to prove his love to his wife, but a feast requested their presence in the great hall. So Pressine helped him dress in fresh tunic and trews. As usual, she had worked her womanly magic and made him feel welcome in his own castle. How had he ever managed without her?

  * * *

  The banquet in the great hall that night meant more to Pressine than any festival. She tasted life with a new awareness. How could she possibly have thought of welcoming death, even in her darkest hour? For the simple pleasure of living with Elinas, she would endur
e whatever challenges the Goddess threw at her. Even the duck aged in lard and the blood sausage tasted better when he sat at her side.

  Mattacks’ austere expression, at the far end of the high table, only made her want to laugh. He would never forgive their encounter in the woods, but he would get over it. In time, Pressine would explain the incident to Elinas. She shuddered at the thought, hoping he would understand... and forgive her disobedience, since he’d forbidden her to ride while with child. But Pressine yielded to a higher power than that of a king.

  When Elinas laid a hand on her thigh under the table, Pressine’s body heat flared, responding to his touch.

  “Shall we retire early?” Elinas suggested with an expectant smile, as soon as they finished the meal.

  “As you wish, my king.” Pressine rose, feeling as if the entire assembly stared at her.

  Even Bishop Renald and Urien of Lanark studied her quizzically, while Mattacks whispered in the bishop’s ear, as usual. Ignoring them, Pressine let Elinas throw her mantle over her shoulders, then she followed him out of the hall into the night.

  A cold wind whistled through the leafless trees as they crossed the castle yard. Pressine shivered through her layers of clothing, but Elinas laid his arm across her shoulders for warmth and protection.

  “You will never know how often I have dreamt of this very night,” he murmured in a dreamy voice. “I waited for the time when I could lie with you again. I missed you more than words can tell.”

  Pressine linked one arm around his waist, enjoying his reliable presence. “I know how you feel.” She grinned for only the stars to see. No matter what happened later, tonight her dreams would come true. Her beloved husband had returned home, and all was well in her world.

  Chapter Four

  “You almost died. And our son might have lived if you had not disobeyed.” Elinas slapped Caliburn’s scabbard against his leather trews.