To all, the three seemed compliant and content in their situation. They never flinched at the sneers and insults dealt to them by their enemies or fought back when they were abused by the Queens consort, Ryn Eurion.
Deep in their hearts, the princes were dreaming of escape and none more so than the eldest, Bleddyn Seren Du. In their chambers at night, he would tell his young brothers stories of their kingdom and the great land through the portals, a land where there was no war against them, where the Autumn Queen had no power or influence. Bleddyn practiced his father’s magic in secret, teaching his younger brothers the secret powers of their kind, how best to fight the Seelie, and all the while, he planned their escape.
Knowing that the only way to protect his brothers was to be above suspicion, Bleddyn set about earning the favor of the Autumn Queen. There had long been whispers around the court that the Queen’s appetites had become insatiable and distorted in her proclivities since the death of the King, many fearing to become the object of her desire. Bleddyn began to pay the Queen attention until at a ball, Ryn had men hold him down, and they beat him. Through the heavy blows, Bleddyn continued to watch the Queen, his eyes burning with an unspoken promise.
“Why do you not look away though you are beaten for it, insolent slave?” she asked on the fourth day.
“My glorious, Queen, how could my eyes look at anything else?” he replied. That night, instead of being dragged back to a cell, Bleddyn was taken to the Queen’s chambers. Dismissing her attendants, the Autumn Queen took the Unseelie prince into her milk baths and gently tended to his wounds. He watched her silently with the same intensity that he wore during his beatings.
“You do not fear me,” she said, “You do not fear pain or retribution.”
“No, my lady,” he answered as she ladled the healing milk over his battered body. Her white fingers dug into the bruises on his arms. His breath sucked in sharply, but he didn’t flinch or pull away from her. Her red lips curled.
“Do you find the pain exciting, Unseelie?” she asked lifting herself up so that he could see the beads of milk dripping down the sloping curves of her breasts. Bleddyn grabbed the Queen by her long white neck, pinning her to the stone wall of the bath.
“Do you?” he demanded.
The Autumn Queen’s eyes flashed in anger, and she struck him, her nails opening his pale skin. He did not move as the crimson drops of blood fell to mar the white milk. Bleddyn watched her, his body towering over hers and the anger in her eyes melted under the heat of her own desire. She kissed him, biting his lips in her eagerness. Bleddyn allowed it only a few moments until he held her back firmly.
“No.”
The Queen was shocked, her fury growing inside of her. “I am your queen. I own the very breath in your body.”
“But you do not own my heart or soul,” Bleddyn whispered in her ear. “And if you take me unwillingly you will never know the secret to the greatest pleasure that only the Unseelie can give you. It is dark magic, and it has never been given to a Seelie before. It is not something you can take like you took our lands. It must be given.”
Bleddyn walked from the pool, leaving the Queen wondering what the secret magic could be, for the only thing she loved was power.
From that night the Autumn Queen forbid any of the Court from touching the Unseelie princes. They no longer had to wear the chains and slave collars around their necks and hands in the ballrooms. Bleddyn acted no differently from this special allowance only to bow to her in silent thanks on behalf of his brothers.
This act sparked malcontent in many subjects for the Unseelie princes were beautiful, unusual creatures that they had enjoyed using for whatever pleasure they saw fit. All were afraid of the older prince, but the Queen’s edict had robbed them of their treasured entertainment.
As he knew she would, the Queen summoned Bleddyn two nights later. She was wearing a fine gossamer shift that accentuated, rather than hid the nakedness underneath it. Her attendants were dismissed, leaving her alone with him once more.
“Come sit beside me,” she commanded.
“I would rather stand, my queen,” answered Bleddyn politely.
The Queen’s eyes flared. “You would deny me this one small thing after the great favor I have shown you?”
“I am grateful, my queen, but the chambers that Lord Ryn has locked us in are very cramped. We enjoy being able to stand properly when we can.”
The Queen’s red brow furrowed as she got to her feet and walked slowly to him. She snapped her fingers and his threadbare shirt melted away. Bleddyn did not move as she scraped her long nails down his back.
“Why do you resist me so much, dark one? Why do you hold yourself back from the pleasure I offer you?”
“I mean no disrespect, but it is my awe of you that I must control myself. The Unseelie lovemaking is far more passionate than the Seelie and I would not wish to harm the queen for fear her wrath would turn to my brothers. It is a far better thing to resist what you offer.”
“I will not harm your brothers if you lay with me,” she said as she put her hand in his long, black hair, pulling it hard as she kissed him. His hands gripped her hips roughly, lifting her up. He carried her over to her bed of red silks, pushing her down onto it. Gripping the front of her shift, he tore it in half. He bit her breast hard enough for her to cry out in sudden pain. Bleddyn let her go and got back to his feet. A bruise was already blossoming like a purple autumn flower on her pale skin.
“I am sorry, my queen, but I cannot come to you as I am. You are the greatest queen in the entire world. I will not touch you with my soiled hands and body. It would be insulting to you.”
“You insult me by denying me,” the Queen said, touching the bruise, “but this last request I will grant you.”
The Unseelie princes were moved that very night to one of the finest chambers in her court. There they had servants bring them hot water for baths and new clothes of the finest silks and velvets. An elaborate meal was brought to them, and the princes ate well before hiding their knives in the folds of their clothes, listening as Bleddyn laid out his plans to them.
The next night, they went to the ball, the younger princes given free rights to roam where they pleased. Bleddyn danced with the Autumn Queen and made her laugh with his observances of the dour-faced courtiers. When she retired, she took Bleddyn’s hand openly in front of her advisors and led him to her chambers.
“I have given what you asked for, Unseelie, now give yourself to me as promised,” the Autumn Queen demanded.
Bleddyn took the knife he had stolen from the banquet dinner and held it against her chest. The Queen gasped as he ran the flat side of the cool blade down her skin.
“You mean to kill me, Unseelie?” the Queen asked, laughter bubbling out of her.
With a steady hand, he slid the blade down the front of her jeweled bodice and cut the ties one by one until her body spilled free from it. She tried to move, but he held the blade to her throat, stilling her as he kissed her breast through her thin undergarment. Two quick flicks of his hand and the shoulders of her gown tore away. A thin line of blood welled up where the blade had caught her, and he quickly put his mouth over it, drinking a drop of her blood before it healed. The Queen kissed him, viciously.
“Tell me what the Unseelie magic is,” she demanded breathlessly.
“Can you not feel the spell beginning to move through you?” Bleddyn asked as he ran the blade between her breasts, shredding the fabric and leaving a line of welling blood. Her back arched as he licked it, her eyes clouding, unseeing of the small cuts he was making in her. He cut the skirt of her dress to shreds, the Queen trembling with fear and excitement to be in the hands of her armed enemy. Wherever she felt the cold touch of the blade was followed by the sensation of his tongue until she was dizzy with need.
Bleddyn felt strength returning to his limbs, the magic in the blood filling him. With every cut, he grew stronger, and the Queen, caught up in her own desire, grew weaker.<
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Every moment he spent with her, his brothers were making their way to their agreed meeting place. Taking strips of her ruined dress, he tied her arms above her head, her legs to the posts of her bed.
“You mean to make a prisoner of me, Unseelie? I could burn these bonds with a thought,” she mocked.
“I would never want to imprison you, my Queen. My power is no match for yours,” he said as he ran his long body along hers, making her shudder with anticipation. He gripped her hair in his hands, lifting her pale white neck up toward him.
“Do you want to know want to know the secret magic of the Unseelie, my Queen?” he whispered against her skin.
“Yes…yes, my prince, tell me,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming.
“Then you shall have it,” Bleddyn watched her face change in fear as his teeth lengthened. Before she could cry out, he bit hard into her exposed throat, sucking the scream from it.
In her blood, he saw all the wards, the guards and the ways to escape their underground prison. He saw the spells she had cast, felt her magic in every drop. He saw memories and drew the one of the night of his father’s death to him. He saw how Ryn Eurion had killed his mother and delivered the heart to the queen. He watched as she ate it, stealing all of his mother’s magic into her.
He bit harder, his urge to kill more potent than anything he felt before but he saw the magical ties she had within the palace itself. If she died, it would turn against them, and he and his brothers would never escape.
He drained her until all of the youth shriveled out of her, and her true age was revealed. Red hair turned to white, her plump lips and body shriveling underneath him. A single drop of blood he left in her before he let the body go.
Upon the wall hung the sword of this dead father and Bleddyn held out his hands, whispered a word and Widows Fury flew from its bonds and into his hand. He heard it call out to him for Seelie blood, but he silenced it and placed a glamor spell upon it so none of his enemies could see it. He did not spare the Queen a glance as he left her chambers.
“The Queen asked not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening,” he instructed her guards, and they shared a knowing smile.
Under the gaze of the Seelie courtiers and warriors, Bleddyn walked through the halls of the court, and he and his brothers escaped through the supply tunnels. Using the Queen’s magic, he passed through the wards until they ran out into the crystal night. So overwhelmed they were to see the sky and stars again that they stood in awe.
“Come, my brothers, our new world awaits,” Bleddyn said, and they ran through forests to a doorway between the worlds. Not knowing where they were going or what lay before them the three brothers took each other’s hands and walked through the spaces of the world until they found the land of the creatures called Man.
They were free from the rule of the Autumn Queen, but she did not die as Bleddyn had hoped. She recovered her strength and sent warriors in between the worlds to hunt and kill the Unseelie that evaded her and the prince that tricked her.
She hunts them to this day in her relentless pursuit to try to reclaim what was stolen from her: her pride, her dignity, and her heart.
***
It was late when Rosa finished reading, her eyes burning and her throat dry. She touched the final page, an illustration of Prince Bleddyn holding a large black sword high, before shutting the book.
“Well, that’s certainly a story I’ve never heard before,” she whispered as she clutched it to her and carried it upstairs. She climbed into bed, the story twisting about inside of her, its roots hooking into her heart and soul and mind.
That night, she did not dream of the woman calling out to her, but of the Autumn Queen deep underground surrounded by her vicious faerie warriors, her demented tinkling laughter haunting her.
Prince Bleddyn moved through her dreams, his eyes looking down at her, reminding her of someone as he took her in his arms and whispered, “He’s dead, Rosa. I’m sorry, he’s dead.”
Chapter Seven – The Paintings in the Attic
Rosa spent the next day in a blur. She had barely slept in the past two nights, and she found herself bumping into doors and hearing voices in the walls. She cleaned rooms alone trying to get her mind together, but she ended up staring blankly out of the windows, wondering about faerie princes and whether or not the Autumn Queen was still angry.
You are going crazy, Rosa. It was just a story, no matter how real the dream seemed.
Upon waking, she had remembered the last time she had heard the words from her dream. She was a little girl, and Eli had picked her up to carry her away from her father’s body. “He’s dead, Rosa. I’m sorry, he’s dead,” he had whispered as he had held her tightly. How could she have forgotten that? This crazy house is getting to you, Rosa.
Being back in Gwaed Lyn was making the long-buried feelings and memories rise, forcing her to remember.
You can’t run from them forever, Rosa. It’s time to grow up and know the truth.
She knew she had to ask Eli about what had happened with her father’s death. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t end up seeing either Eli or Balthasar that day, and she felt strangely grateful about it. She needed a decent night sleep before she talked to either one of them.
That night, Rosa went up to the attic to put the letters away. In the chests, she found two small portraits of Balthasar and Jane. She took them downstairs and placed them on her bedside table.
“Don’t worry, guys, I will find out what really happened to you and stop getting distracted by messed up fairy tales,” she said feeling emotional and a little foolish. The paintings were beautiful works like much of the art in the Vane mansion. Rosa climbed back into bed and picked up the portrait frames. One side was of dark-haired Jane with her pale blue eyes. She had a sweet look on her face and a soft mouth. The other one was a familiar serious face with high cheekbones, Balthasar Senior. She stared at it for a moment longer before she propped it up under the lamp and grew frustrated when it wouldn’t sit up straight. She flipped the portrait over and spotted something sticking out the back of Jane’s picture.
Rosa took out her nail file and gently pried the back apart. A sealed letter dropped out from behind it and onto her lap. It had been tied with a black ribbon and sealed in wax. Rosa opened it, and a clipping of a small obituary fell out. She read that Jane Louise Rutherford had died by drowning while visiting the Lake District with family.
1815
My Jane
I don’t know why I write you this letter. There is no way for you to read it now, so far away from me. Never again will I hear your laughter or see the light in your eyes. I failed you. I failed to protect you from this life, from who I am. I tried to warn you away, but you wouldn’t listen, my beautiful, stubborn girl.
I know he ordered your death. When I confronted him, he denied it. He gave me a lecture, though I was mad and foaming with grief and rage. He will have no distractions. He will have no competition. He will let me have nothing of my own. I have to get away from this place where I see the ghost of you walking beside me. I have seen so many horrible things, done such horrible things, but nothing will haunt me the way your pale body in the lake will haunt me. Blood Lake has had its fill. If the ghosts of that lake could rise, they would swallow us all.
You once told me that a man has a hole within himself; that if it is not filled with love, he will fill it with violence. I have lost you, my beautiful Jane. The love has gone from me, so I will glut myself on violence and rage until all that is broken and frail inside of me is burnt away. I cannot bear the suffering of the humanity in me, so I give in to the beast. Napoleon has escaped from Elba. I know the monsters he rallies to his side. I will go to the battlefields of Europe, and I will kill them all. I may hate my father, but he still holds Albion safe against the ravages of the French. He will release me for this. If he doesn’t, he knows my rage will turn against him.
I loved you, Jane. I loved you.
***
“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep much last night,” she mumbled. Rosa had been awake since she had finished reading the letter.
Balthasar Senior must have covered up the murder of the woman he loved to protect his family. Goddamn Vanes. In 1815, who would have questioned them? Jane’s death was reported as a misadventure. She had gone swimming, been tangled up in weeds and had drowned. The obituary had minimal details, and Rosa had fought with Gwaed Lyn’s terrible internet connection in the early hours of the morning, searching through digital archives until she had found the same obituary on Jane. Nothing was mentioned of an investigation, the Vanes or the fate of Jane’s family.
“Well, Rosa, I’m happy you’re up. Eli has decided to let us know that he’s holding a soiree tonight, so I’m going to keep you down here with me today,” Vera said as she came out of the walk-in pantries with her hands full. “We are going to have at least twenty to cook for.”
Cecily came in a short time after and scrutinized Rosa’s puffy eyes and hastily pulled back hair. “Were you drinking again last night?”
“No, it’s lack of sleep. Really, I wasn’t feeling well,” Rosa fumbled for excuses. It wasn’t a lie. After reading such private thoughts and intimacies between two people, only to have one of them murdered on a whim, it had devastated her.
The letters also highlighted cruelly and severely what Rosa had lacked in every relationship she had ever had. She did not think that the fairy tale version of love existed, but clearly, it had. For them, it had been deep, true and all consuming. It had been real. No wonder he had lost his mind and went to try to kill himself in the war. Rosa had tried to find his obituary, but there had been no mention of his death in the war with Napoleon or even fifty years after it. He had vanished into nothing. Just another body on a battlefield.
Wylt: Book One The Blood Lake Chronicles Page 7