Pressine had not seen him so upset since the first day he’d barged into these very rooms, after she had cleaned and rearranged them, erasing all traces of his departed queen. Even the roaring fire in the hearth did not dispel the chill.
“I did not think the child would suffer. At the time, I had to save the villagers.” Still, the guilt weighed heavily on Pressine’s chest, robbing her of the will to defend herself.
“Endangering your life and his, to confront a pack of hungry beasts... alone?” Jaw twitching, Elinas locked his hands behind the back of his purple coat and paced like a caged wolf, eyes ablaze with simmering fury.
“I had the power to stop the carnage. No one else could.” Heart racing, Pressine smoothed her blue dress, trying to sound convincing. “In my vision the wolves slaughtered many women and children. It was my duty to help.”
Elinas rolled his eyes toward the wide beams holding the ceiling. “Do not talk to me about sacred duty!”
Walking the length of the table, he ignored the untouched breakfast of pea flour bread, boiled duck eggs, and fresh goat cheese. If Elinas infuriated so easily, now would not be the time to tell him that Mattacks had tried to kill her. He would never believe it.
“Maybe you did as you pleased among the Ladies of the Lost Isle...” Elinas turned fiery eyes on Pressine. “But in my castle, I am responsible for your well being. You should never have endangered your life. No duty of yours is worth dying for.”
Pressine’s chest tightened at the harsh tone. Where had all the love and tenderness gone? Was this the same man who had pleasured her all night on this very bed, whispering sweet words in her ear?
“You deliberately endangered your life!” A heavy fist slammed the table.
Pressine jumped along with the breakfast food, the pewter cups, and the ewer of mulled ale. Elinas’ anger hurt so much, she wanted to cry, but she steeled herself against the onslaught.
Although deeply shaken, she managed to keep her voice calm. “I am not just your wife, not just a queen. I am a Priestess of the Lost Isle. I belong to the Great Goddess. I thought you understood, since you have some Fae blood in you.”
“So I am told, but it does not affect my judgement.” Elinas glowered from across the table. His dark stubbled jaw tensed.
Pressine braced herself to weather the storm.
“After three years of marriage, you still remain a mystery to me. What are you really?” The feral eyes narrowed to slits. “How many deadly secrets are you hiding from me? Would you leave me if the Goddess demanded it?”
Pressine remained silent. Would she? Could she?
Elinas paused, as if stunned by the implications of her silence. He turned away and stared at the rug, shoulders tense with raw emotions. “What else are you not telling me? Will all our children be deformed?”
The despair in his voice made Pressine cringe. She struggled to steady the pounding of her heart. “Only male children are at risk. Not all are affected, but yes, there is greater danger of abnormal male children among my kind.”
Elinas exploded into a mirthless laugh. “You choose a fine time to tell me!” The derisive tone sounded threatening. “Do you not know that only boys matter to a king? What if my three sons die early?” He shrugged. “Daughters cannot rule the land. They are only good to marry off to seal alliances.”
Insulted by the remark, Pressine decided to fight back. Leaning for support against a heavy oak chest, she molded her palms around the smooth carvings of the lid. “Women could rule in the old days. Women went to battle. When did we become weak and unable to decide for ourselves? I was not raised to do the bidding of a man. I serve the Goddess and obey the laws that govern the Otherworld.”
“What a perfect excuse!” The sarcastic tone cut into the stifling air like a sharp dagger. “What else?”
Wondering how Elinas would react to more forbidden knowledge in his present state, Pressine hesitated.
He lifted a heavy chair and slammed it down on the flagstone in his rage. “Speak now, woman! Afore I run out of patience and banish you from my sight.”
Taking a deep breath, Pressine let out a reluctant whisper. “Longevity.”
Elinas’ eyebrows shot up questioningly. “What about it? Pray tell.”
“When Aunt Morgane came to our wedding, you thought you recognized her.” Ignoring the lump in her throat, Pressine paused to watch understanding dawn on her king’s face. “You were right. It was her you met as a lad. She has not aged a day since.”
“Morgane?” Doubt crept into the angry voice. “That was thirty years ago and she barely looks thirty now. How old can she be?”
Elinas no longer seemed angry, but Pressine refrained from smiling at her small victory. “I do not know exactly, but she knew King Arthur, the bear of Britannia. She remembers former lives as well. She claims to have witnessed the Trojan Wars, and she speaks about Hercules and Achilles as if she knew them well.”
“Ridiculous!” Elinas turned away as if to dismiss the idea, then looked out the window. “These are only legends.”
Pressine swallowed hard. “All legends are rooted in reality.”
“Do not mock me, woman.” A calm, threatening tone returned to the king’s voice as he faced her again.
It crossed Pressine’s mind to use her powers of persuasion to influence him, but such coercion would not be fair to the man she loved, or even to herself. She needed to be understood and accepted for what she really was. Harnessing her courage, she pushed herself away from the oak chest and walked toward the table that separated them, keeping her chin up.
“This may sound unbelievable to you now,” she explained softly, “but in the ancient world, immortality was not unheard of.”
“Oh? Go on.” Dangerous challenge filled his voice.
“My mother grew up on ambrosia, the food of the gods. It is an extraordinary bread made with a white powder of elemental gold. This special nourishment, combined with my mother’s heritage, makes her immortal.”
“Really?” A glint of interest lit the king’s eyes despite a few traces of impatience. “What heritage?”
Encouraged by the positive change in the king’s attitude, Pressine relaxed a little. “Long before the time of antiquity, the ruler of the heavens came with a great army of angels.” She took care to speak slowly, soothingly, so as not to provoke his anger. “At some point, a mutiny broke out among the celestial beings. The revolt failed, and to punish the rebels the ruler of the heavens decided to abandon them on Earth.”
Elinas emitted a sarcastic snort.
“Let me finish,” Pressine commanded, delighted to see Elinas somewhat mollified. “When the master of the heavens ordered to close the gates of his palace in the sky, other heavenly beings remained trapped on Earth as well.”
Still as a statue, holding the back of a chair with a white knuckle grip, Elinas stared at Pressine, his expression unreadable.
“Over time, the heavenly beings had children with Earthlings.” Pressine kept her voice even. “The dissident angels and their progeny rallied under their leader and have been doing mischief ever since. The good angels and their children gathered around the Great Goddess. Ever since, they have helped simple humans in their fight against the dark angels.”
Elinas’ brow shot up. “You are descended from angels?”
“So are you, remotely. And our children, although of lesser blood, will live for many centuries.” Once told, the forbidden knowledge did not seem so dangerous anymore.
Elinas resumed pacing the room, flushed with the excitement of sudden understanding, all anger now replaced by wonder. “By the fires of Bel, how do you expect me to believe such a fantastic tale?”
Pressine smiled with indulgence. “Whether you believe it or not, time will tell. Like Morgane, I will not age, at least not in your lifetime. Do you understand now why I hesitated to tell you? Mortals are not ready for such truths. Even you cannot quite believe it, despite your own ancestry.”
Elinas stopped paci
ng and rubbed his stubble of beard. “Indeed I cannot. And I am trying very hard.”
Pressine wanted to reach out and touch him, but the table stood between them. “I shall always love and respect you, Elinas, but I bow to a higher power.”
Elinas frowned but only with slight annoyance. “You still owe me obedience as the ruler of this land.”
“Only by the grace of the Great Goddess, Elinas. Never forget that.” Pressine expected a stronger reaction, but as the king did not protest she went on. “The Goddess probably chose you to be high king because of your drop of Fae blood. I wager some of your ancestors lived unusually long lives.”
All anger seemingly forgotten, Elinas shrugged. “They might have, if they had not died on the battlefield.”
“I am sorry.” Breathing easier, Pressine walked around the table. Now that the truth was out and accepted, she needed his contact. She faced him and touched his arm, her heart full of hope.
Elinas turned away. “I want to believe you, or at least give you the benefit of the doubt.” His expression grew somber as he faced her again. “But our child died, and I almost lost you, too.”
Pressine’s gaze fell and her throat constricted. She leaned back against the table and stared at her hands. “It is punishment enough to know I am responsible for his death, believe me.”
Stepping closer, Elinas said gently, “Promise me to never again endanger your life.”
“I promise to try.” For now, it would have to be enough.
When he took her hand and brushed her fingers to his lips, Pressine could not help but seek refuge in his arms. He welcomed her and their slow, loving kiss reminded her of their tender night.
When they disengaged, Elinas breathed deeply, his broad shoulders sinking as he exhaled. “What am I going to tell Mattacks? I cannot ask him to keep quiet about it, and I cannot tell him that tale either. If I can scarcely believe it, how could he?”
“I agree.” Pressine gazed into his soft brown eyes. “Telling him anything that does not fit his beliefs would only make you suspect in his eyes, and you cannot afford to lose the Edling’s trust.”
“If he speaks to the council, I must vouch for his sanity. As distorted as his perception was, he never lied, nor did he lose his mind. He reported the mere facts as he understood them.” Elinas gave Pressine a sharp look. “His only concern was for me, which is more than I can say about you.”
Pressine endured his stare. She still could not tell him that Mattacks had attempted to kill her with his spear. Without proof, Elinas would never believe her. Finally, he looked away through the open window. A timid sun pierced the morning clouds. Soon, it would be spring.
As if suddenly remembering breakfast, Elinas came to sit at the table. “If divulged, this incident could jeopardize Mattacks’ wedding.”
Pressine glanced up at the last words and sat across from him. “What wedding?”
“I received a very palatable offer.” Elinas broke a piece from the round loaf of pea bread.
Over breakfast, Elinas explained in detail the proposition of Prince Pepin of Aquitaine. Pressine listened intently. She understood the tangled webs of influence and power. No doubt, Mattacks would choose to marry Charlemagne’s granddaughter, Lady Radegonde of Duras and Florimond. It constituted the most advantageous choice for his future crown.
Pressine’s heart went out to Ceinwyn. The feelings of a young servant girl, however noble, would weigh nothing against matters of the crown. Pressine would try to prepare the lass, but Ceinwyn had grown so infatuated with the Edling that she would surely end up with a broken heart.
* * *
Three weeks later, after an idyllic reunion, Pressine had to contend with the king’s absence once more. Looking up from her needlework, she gazed out her window across the drenched courtyard at the closed shutters of the royal bedchamber. How she missed the tenderness of his embrace.
Ceinwyn’ voice broke her reverie. “Why did the king have to leave this time?”
Pressine glanced at the lass. “He went to recruit young knights for his army. And on his way back, he will stop in Ayre to retrieve Prince Conan returning from fosterage.”
“Prince Conan must have grown in the past three years.”
“And matured.” Pressine smiled at the thought. Fond of young Conan, she found herself curious to find out how much he had changed. “I hear he is an excellent archer on horseback.”
Conan would return home in time for Mattacks’ wedding. But Ceinwyn did not know about the nuptials yet. The news, kept secret so far, would soon spread on the wings of returning birds, making smiles blossom like timid rainbows on most faces. Not on Ceinwyn’s, though... Pressine had waited too long for the right time to warn the girl, and time had run out.
Catching Pressine’s gaze, Ceinwyn lowered her embroidery. “You seem thoughtful, my lady. Is anything the matter?”
Making up her mind, Pressine set aside her needlework and laid her hands on her lap. “You are not going to like what I have to tell you.”
“What is it?” Alarm widened the girl’s clear eyes.
Pressine took a deep breath. “The king is considering marrying Mattacks to a Frankish princess.”
Ceinwyn’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. After the initial shock, anger flared in the set of her brow. “I cannot believe the king would consider any other marriage for Prince Mattacks. The Edling must have told him we are in love.”
Ceinwyn rose, threw her embroidery on the chair, and twisted her hands on her chest as she faced the window, staring in the direction of Mattacks’ chambers.
Pressine’s throat tightened as she watched the lass. “Whether or not the king knows will not change anything. But the Edling has the final choice in the matter.”
A ray of hope brightened Ceinwyn’s face. “Then I have nothing to fear. Mattacks loves me too much. He will refuse the foreign bride.”
Pressine sighed. “I would not be so sure. For a future king, matters of the crown take precedence over personal feelings. This alliance would give him high status on the continent and bring prosperity to this land.”
Resolve tightened Ceinwyn’s jaw. “Well. We shall find out how the Edling feels. I shall ask him directly.” She ran out the door.
“Ceinwyn wait...” Pressine started after her, but what more could she say? She shook her head. “Poor child.”
Through the open window, Pressine watched the lass splash across the puddles in the courtyard, on her way to Mattacks’ chambers. This might be for the best. Ceinwyn deserved to be happy... she deserved a better man than the Edling.
* * *
“Are you daft, woman? My kind does not marry your kind.” Mattacks had avoided Ceinwyn, knowing it would be unpleasant. It galled him that the little pest dared to confront him on matters of the crown.
“I am of noble birth,” Ceinwyn protested then bit her lips.
Mattacks sneered. “Not noble enough to make you queen, my dear.”
“But you promised. You said you loved me!” Her wounded doe-eyes begged.
Feeling guilty, Mattacks changed his approach. “I do love you, but royal marriages have nothing to do with love. We can still be together. I will make you my favorite concubine.” He realized with a start that he did not want to lose her.
“A concubine?” Ceinwyn’s rosy cheeks deepened to crimson. “I will not live in sin. I want a lawful husband who will love and respect me, and give me legitimate children. You promised yourself to me, and now you will marry another and ruin my life?” The girl raised a face full of tears. “I cannot wed a proper Lord, now that you took my maidenhood.”
The lass went a little too far, but Mattacks controlled his anger. “You should have thought of that earlier, my sweet. May I remind you that I never asked for your favors. You offered yourself to me. You should be proud of having caught my eye. All the ladies in the kingdom vie for my attention.”
Ceinwyn broke into sobs.
Mattacks smiled and wiped her tears with a silk
handkerchief. “Here, here.” He kissed her forehead. “Do not be sad. You still have me, if not the crown.”
When Mattacks enfolded her in his arms, however, Ceinwyn wrenched free of his embrace with surprising strength.
“Leave me alone,” she cried out, an expression of disgust on her face. “I want nothing to do with you, ever!”
Mattacks’ smile froze. The wench was angry. The blow to her pride had shaken her. That would teach her to aspire above her station.
He locked his hands behind his back. “You will freely come back to my bed within a few days if you know what is good for you. Or should I have you forcibly brought by my personal guard next time I require your ministrations?”
“I hate you,” Ceinwyn spat between sobs, then marched out of his chambers and slammed the door behind her.
The Edling chuckled at her dramatic exit. He knew the little minx quite well. She would soon come back to her senses and return begging for his forgiveness. She always had before.
Mattacks’ smile faded as his mind returned to the most urgent matter at hand, getting rid of the heathen queen before she became an embarrassment at his wedding. No devil worshiper should preside over the envoys of the Holy Roman Emperor, and Mattacks just had a clever idea to prevent it.
* * *
“Are you sure, my prince? These are very troubling accusations.” Bishop Renald frowned, grizzly eyebrows shading his dark eyes.
Mattacks nodded gravely, glad he’d finally decided to act.
The bishop glanced furtively at the dozen Christian barons invited to sit around the table for this secret council. “And against the queen, no less. I doubt that the king shares your convictions.”
“He does not.” Mattacks, presiding at the end of the table in his father’s absence, leaned over the table and used a tone of confidence. ”My father fell under the heathen’s influence years ago! The woman is evil.” He lowered his voice further. “I will tell you a secret that cannot leave this room.”
The barons nodded, intent on Mattacks.
“I saw her fornicating with wolves, and the king knows it.” Mattacks paused for emphasis. “Yet he did nothing.”
Curse of the Lost Isle Special Edition Page 24