Damn him. Laen cursed Corin, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth hurt. He stared out of the window at the glowering clouds hanging low in the sky and held on tight to his anger. It was harder than he would have credited not to let his attention wander and remember the softness of Océane’s breast beneath his hand, the feel of her nipple peaked and taut under his fingers. Oh gods. It was everything he could do to keep himself from running back to her room to see if he could coax her into his arms again. He would be kinder this time, he vowed. He would make amends for his brutality. The thought of seeing the fear in her eyes again when she looked at him made him feel sick to his stomach. He had to ... He needed to ... Damn. What the hell was he thinking? She was a prisoner and here for good reason. He had no business thinking about the desire he had received from her, about what it would be like to taste her. He swallowed hard and tried instead to focus on the crop yield his farm manager had predicted this year, but found the only yielding he could think about was hers as she had leant her head against him with a moan that had set his blood on fire.
“Laen!”
He jumped as he remembered he was not alone and tried to remember what the hell they had been talking about.
“Have you been listening to a word I said?” Corin asked in exasperation.
Laen turned away from the sight of the dismal weather and went to sit down behind his desk. “I said you could take the woman out, did I not?” he growled, reaching for his glass once more.
Corin tutted and tried to reach for the decanter again but this time Laen was too quick for him. He scowled at Laen and put his empty glass down with a thud. “No actually, you just grunted. Am I to take that as a sign of approval?”
Laen groaned and put his head in his hands. “Yes, yes, anything. Just go away and leave me alone will you.” Why, why? Why was this going so badly wrong? It had been the first time in years his father had actually spoken to him - to entrust this task to him. It had given his ego something of a boost to know that there was no one else in the Kingdom his father would trust to get the job done. Of course it had occurred to him that it had been chosen as a perfect opportunity for him to get himself killed but he preferred not to consider that.
He snorted inwardly. He had suffered a lifetime of hatred from the man whose blood ran in his veins and yet still he clung to the grain of hope that he would one day be seen as a worthy heir to the throne. What a fool he was to believe that. Well, any hope of that was gone for good now. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care what the old bastard thought of him, not anymore, but he did care whether the King came to hear how he had made a mess of the whole thing. Idiot, he cursed himself. His father had done nothing but abuse and humiliate him since he was a boy.
He looked up and stole a glance at the man who had saved him from the misery of his childhood. Corin was a good man, a good friend. He alone had saved him from the hell that had been his existence from the moment his mother had died. He had never let him down, had never stopped being a friend despite the fact that Laen’s father despised him and made it dangerous for them to be friends, despite the fact that Laen had often not deserved his friendship. He gave a heavy sigh. So what if he had botched the job, it wouldn’t change a thing in his father’s eyes, just as it wouldn’t change anything if it had been a complete success. And after all, he had retrieved the blade. He just hadn’t bargained on Océane ...
Once again his thoughts wandered, and he groaned anew.
***
Corin looked over at Laen, who was quite obviously in turmoil, and shook his head. He was beginning to deeply regret having played any part in this farce at all. Things were going exactly as he had planned, and he was not at all sure he was pleased about it. In fact he was fairly certain he didn’t like it in the least. He should have just seduced the girl when he’d had the opportunity. Then he could have discovered the truth about the book so that Laen would have let her go home and all could have returned to normal. Of course sooner or later Laen would have started a war with the rest of the Fae Lands and the human world and Corin would have been forced to stand against him. He simply had no choice in the matter. He may have a well-deserved reputation as a hell-raiser and a womaniser but he was not entirely irresponsible.
He looked out at the appalling day beyond the window and cursed inwardly. Laen’s lands had always been subject to violent storms whereas, up until more recent times at least, it had rarely rained in his own. It’s coming for you, a malicious voice whispered in his head. He shut it off abruptly as the cold feeling began to grow inside him. He cast a longing look at the decanter and closed his eyes. He could not take Océane out if he was drunk. The words circled in his brain though, snide little whispers that hissed and spat with venomous enthusiasm and he wondered just how much longer he would be able to shut them out for before he had to act or simply lost his mind altogether.
“Very well, then we are agreed,” he said, tutting again as he realised Laen wasn’t attending him in the slightest, so he raised his voice. “But I do hope the weather clears as I’m certainly not going out in this!” He gestured outside in disgust and received a glower from Laen in return. Corin was well aware that he was baiting him. It was a dangerous game and he wasn’t entirely sure it was the best way forward but he was extremely irritated, and well past caring.
Giving up on the idea of getting a response to any further enquiries, he left Laen to brood and stalked out of the room, muttering about idiot friends. Once away from Laen’s eyes he took the book from his pocket and looked at it again with a strange feeling in his chest. He smoothed the soft leather between his hands and heard again the resentful murmuring of the voice . His heart began to pound as he traced the words of the title, The Dark Prince. For a moment he had been terribly afraid that ...
He put the book back in his pocket and steadfastly ignored the way his hand trembled. It was Laen’s story, not his. It was fine.
Gods he needed a drink.
By lunch time the weather, whilst not exactly glorious had cleared up enough for Corin to ask the kitchen staff to prepare a picnic and to go and save Océane from another moment languishing in her room. He tried to ignore the anticipation that stirred in his blood as he approached her bedroom door. She wasn’t for him, not this time. He had to follow the plan. Of course if he had been following the plan it would be Laen who was taking her out for a walk around the garden and not him. It should be Laen. This was his land after all. Corin gritted his teeth and suppressed a surge of jealousy. What the devil had gotten into him? He stopped in his tracks as the uncomfortable realisation spread, because he knew full well what was wrong with him. Aleish was right, he was lonely. Oh gods he was lonely. He was tired of taking a different woman to his bed every night. He wanted ... He wanted ...
He remembered the distant look in Laen’s eyes as he had sat thinking about Océane, and he knew it had been her on his friend’s mind. There was no doubt of it. Maybe, finally there was a woman Laen could care for and who could love him in return as he deserved to be loved. Maybe they could be happy together. Corin closed his eyes as his chest began to ache.
Anyway, for him she would have been just a woman, just another woman who would come and go. Far better that she love Laen. Corin would never fall in love. He wouldn’t allow it.
***
When Corin arrived to say he’d persuaded Laen to let her out for a walk, Océane could have wept at his feet. As prison cells went, it was luxurious in the extreme but she was bored out of her mind. Worse than that, however, was the fact that her enforced solitude meant she had plenty of time to torment herself with thoughts of Laen and whatever it was that had happened between them.
What had happened between them kept going round and around in her head and she simply didn’t know what to make of it. She did know that she had to get out of here, however, before she did something that would get her certified for life, and she sincerely hoped that Corin had come up with an idea.
Of course that would mean never seeing Laen again.
The thought popped into her head unannounced and she rejected it immediately, if reluctantly. That was the whole point, the man was a psycho! She refused to allow herself to believe there was a single part of her that regretted that fact.
She glanced at Corin as he led her through the endless corridors of the castle and gave him a grateful smile for ending her captivity. The look he gave her in return was enough to make her cheeks heat and she turned away. She wondered if she was foolish to go wandering the grounds with him, but then if he had any nefarious ideas he could have easily made use of the fact she had been locked in a bedroom. There was no need to go traipsing the countryside. In fact, she thought as her blush deepened, at the time she had been more than willing to give him anything he wanted. She swallowed, feeling his eyes on her and she had the uncanny sensation he knew what she was thinking. Well anyway, she didn’t believe she had any reason not to trust him, although ... She stole another glance at the gorgeous man at her side. She really had never seen anyone so beautiful in all her life, not even in films but ... But there was something about him that did worry her, disturbed her, something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Laen was brutal and violent and very obviously someone she should not trust. Corin though ... Never trust the Fae. His own words echoed back to her and she shivered and wondered whether Laen were truly the more dangerous of the two of them.
They reached the bottom of the staircase that brought them into the great entrance hall and she cast aside her concerns as the vast scale of the building took her attention. She looked up and up at ceilings that loomed over her, taking in the beautiful designs wrought upon the heavy stone. They swirled and twisted, elegant and deceptively graceful against the sombre grey granite and she felt her breath catch as she stood still, drinking it all in. It was certainly a very beautiful place. The castle itself was stark and imposing but in places it still managed to attain a homely feel, though there was evidence of neglect as her eyes fell upon dusty furniture, and furnishings that showed signs of wear. It appeared as if this was being taken in hand, however, as they passed an open door to see Aleish scolding an uncomfortable gathering of housemaids and making obvious reference to the state of the castle.
“She’s a scary woman,” Corin whispered, and Océane grinned as they crept away.
She returned her attention to the building and found that there were many wonderful paintings once you got past the terrifying relatives, though the family resemblance to Laen was uncanny. They were all tall and white blond with fierce dark eyes that seemed to bore into your own until they reached the truth. She wandered from painting to painting until she came across the largest and most forbidding yet. A great mountain of a man looked back at her through the paint and even this two dimensional representation made Océane want to cower at his feet.
“Laen’s father, the King,” Corin said, and Océane looked up, startled by the anger and disgust in his voice.
“You don’t like him?” she ventured, and turned to follow Corin as he walked away with a bitter laugh.
“Don’t worry, my dear, the feeling is entirely mutual.”
Océane glanced back at the furious-looking King and wondered just what kind of father could treat his son with such callousness and cruelty. It certainly explained a lot about Laen. She shook her head, wondering why on earth she was trying to make excuses for him. “What is he like then, the King?” The words were out of her mouth before she could consider her motives any further, and Corin turned back to look at the painting of the monarch in all his royal finery. Even in paint the King exuded power and menace as the promise of violence lingered in his black eyes, in the harsh sneer that might have passed for a smile, in the meaty hands that held on to the hilt of a fine sword in the manner of one who was well used to wielding it. Océane took a step back as she saw the hatred in Corin’s eyes.
“I have sworn that I will kill him one day, if that answers your question.”
She took a breath before fear stopped the question on her tongue. “Why--”
When Corin replied his voice was soft but no less angry. “Because of what he did to Laen, to us both.” He looked up as if remembering himself and who he was talking to, and he shrugged apologetically. “Families,” he said with a wry smile. “Come on, Océane.” He paused in the doorway and gestured outside. “I think we had better make haste or we will get wet.”
Océane looked at the ominous clouds that mottled the sky like bruises on a pale face and couldn’t help but agree with him. She wished that she could ask him more about Laen but something told her that he didn’t want to say anything else, and she felt it was perhaps too much like prying to pursue the matter, no matter how much she wanted to know.
“I wish I could show you my lands,” Corin said, sounding rather wistful as he led her down the steps and onto a gravelled path. “I think you would like it there. This is very beautiful but rather wild and unkempt. Laen is not much interested in the land. I have beautifully landscaped gardens, lakes and waterfalls, oh and you should see the rose gardens, the scent is divine when they are in bloom.”
Océane looked at him in amusement. The two men were obviously used to competing with each other over everything, women included, though she could tell by the pride in his voice that he was sincere about his gardens. She wasn’t sure she would agree though. She had always found formal gardens a little claustrophobic, like nature was being bound to the will of the gardener. She much preferred this landscape, where nature was being held gently in check. They walked up to a high brick wall with a door in it and as Océane stepped through, her breath caught in her throat. It was stunning.
“This used to be an orchard,” Corin said as he led her through the trees. “It was planted by Laen’s mother but when she died, the orchard sickened and died with her.”
Océane gasped. “How is that possible?”
“We are Fae, Océane, our lives and the fertility of our land is one and the same. He or she who rules over the land influences how it looks and the health of the land is tied to our well-being, both mental and physical. This was his mother’s land, and when she died it became Laen’s. The rest of the Kingdom is subject to the King alone.”
He smiled as she gaped at him, trying to understand what he was telling her. “That’s incredible.”
Corin nodded. “When his mother died, Laen could not bear to destroy the orchard. It was a place that she had loved very much. So instead he planted wisterias to grow up the dead trees and make it seem as though they lived again.” She watched as he reached out and touched one of the plants. Its head hung heavy and dejected, beaten by the recent storms. As his fingertips touched one of the blooms, the whole plant seemed to sigh like a woman beneath her lover’s touch and the petals smoothed out, their bruises fading away until they were fresh and unblemished once more. New shoots thrust out as more buds appeared and bloomed before her eyes and all around him birds and insects gathered, the lazy drone of bees mumbling softly as they searched and flew away, dusty with their golden treasure. She watched with tears in her eyes as he moved slowly, from tree to tree until the whole orchard was like a scene from an impressionist painting but too perfect, too vibrant to be real. She had to be dreaming.
Océane looked around and tried to reconcile the Laen she had experienced so far with the man who could create a memorial of such beauty for a loved one. The ground was carpeted with fallen blooms in delicate shades of purple and lilac through to white, and as the heavy drapes of flowers tumbled around them Océane thought she had never seen anything so exquisite or so touching in her life.
***
Corin stole a glance at Océane and sighed, knowing that she was thinking of Laen and not of him. He shouldn’t have shown her his powers, shouldn’t be able to do that at all. Not here. This was Laen’s domain not his and he certainly shouldn’t touch the land without permission. Just for a moment though he had wanted to show her, even though he knew she would not be impressed with his parlour tricks. Her thoughts were with his friend, just as they should be. He had known it was just the sort of romantic story that would warm her tender heart. The story was also entirely true, but suddenly he wished he hadn't told her.
“Come, Océane. This way.” He took her hand and she followed him out of the orchard, though he could sense that she didn’t want to leave. He led her along a little farther and paused as she stopped, turning to frown into the distance.
“What’s that?” she asked, rubbing her arms as though she was cold.
Corin looked back at the menacing shadow that sullied the horizon like an inky smear on a clean sheet of paper. “Dark wood,” he replied before turning quickly away. “Never go there.”
Océane didn’t move, as though she was unwilling to turn her back on the place. “I wouldn’t!” she exclaimed. “Not willingly at least but ... why? Is it evil?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. No the place is not evil but the things that live in it ...” He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper as though he was afraid to be overheard.
“They are?” she finished for him.
“It is not as simple as that, Océane.” He looked back at Dark Wood and pushed away memories that would have sent him to his knees if he let them, nightmares that were not just in his head, but existed in the gloom of the trees, abiding in mouldering obscurity, lurking in the shadows, walking the dark places - the dwelling of old gods. “Not evil but ... ancient. Powerful.” He shook the lingering gloom that talking of the place seemed to cast over him, and he forced a smile to his face. “These trees however are rather less threatening.” He gestured to a well-worn path that led them into the woodland that skirted the gardens where the floor between the trees was thick with bluebells, their tiny bells covering the ground with a haze of colour as intense as a Mediterranean sea.
“Oh!” she exclaimed and pointed at the flowers. Dozens of tiny hummingbirds no bigger than a large moth darted back and forth between the blooms with sharp movements like they were tugged by strings as they collected the nectar. Their feathers glittered brightly in the dim light of the forest. The tiny, fluttering, airborne jewels glinted in shades of deep ruby and amethyst, and Corin watched Océane with pleasure, glad that he could share in her discovery of their world. “So pretty,” she breathed. Corin held out a finger and a tiny bird came and alighted for a moment, allowing Océane to gently touch its downy feathers before it flew away. She grinned at him in delight and he smiled back, finding that he wanted to show her everything, wanted to make her happy. A little farther along on the trail a young deer bounded out onto the path before stopping dead and staring at them, ears twitching back and forth nervously. Océane was transfixed.
“Oh how beautiful,” she said.
“You’ve never seen one in your world?”
She shook her head and he thought she looked sad. “I live in a city. You don’t see this kind of thing there. I’ve always wished ...” She trailed off and shrugged and instead took a tentative step forward. Corin grabbed hold of her arm and she looked at him in surprise.
“No closer, my dear, they can be vicious creatures.”
She laughed at him, her eyes alight with humour. “A deer? Vicious?”
“This is not the mortal realm, Océane,” he cautioned. “Things are not always as they appear.”
She turned back and the deer suddenly bellowed at her, showing double rows of nasty sharp teeth before bounding away. She shrieked in alarm and stepped backwards so quickly that she lost her balance. Corin stepped forward and grabbed her, and didn’t pass up the opportunity to pull her into an embrace. She fell with her hands pressed against him and he watched as she was confronted with his golden eyes, knowing what effect they had, knowing there was something between them.
“Are you falling for me after all, sweet Océane?” He gave a low chuckle and watched in amusement as she swallowed nervously.
“Sorry,” she said, failing to break away from the intensity of his eyes on her, “it made me jump.”
Corin looked at her in his arms and fought very hard to behave himself. Every instinct was raging with the demand that he pull her closer, that he kiss her and make her his own, but then there was a deep, angry rumble of thunder and he looked behind them, glaring into the forest.
“Come,” he said in a dull voice feeling regret sweep over him before he had even let her go. “We had better keep moving. I fear the weather is not going to be kind to us.”
He led her even farther down the winding path, past wild honeysuckle that tangled and twisted in the trees, the pretty white and yellow flowers perfuming the damp air with their heady scent, past rhododendron bushes that towered over them, blocking the light and engulfing them in a darkness so profound only the white glow of their flowers lit the path like stars glittering in an icy night sky and finally out to a little stone folly that stood on the edge of a grand lake. It was ancient and ivy clad, the skill of the mason all but obscured by the lush green coat, leaving just glimpses of the beauty that lay beneath, like a Victorian lady revealing an ankle. It was sheltered with a roof and closed in on three sides, giving complete privacy and a fabulous view over the glistening, black surface of the lake. With the dramatic skyline of thunderclouds as a backdrop it was stunning in its harsh beauty, and dreadfully romantic. The staff had laid out a wonderful picnic for them and it was quiet and secluded. At least here they should be free from prying eyes.
***
Laen swore to himself as he realised where Corin was going.
Damn him.
Now he would have to tear the folly down stone by stone with his bare hands. Anything rather than look at the place again and consider what had gone on there ... what was probably going on right at this minute. Thunder crashed overhead and the first heavy drops of icy rain began to plummet from the skies as he promised himself the pleasure of beating Corin black and blue in the very near future. He had seen his friend take advantage of the situation when Océane stumbled and a fury had come over him that he simply could not understand. After all he knew better than most exactly what Corin was about, what Corin was always about, and exactly how he would try to get Océane to tell him the truth. He would have been foolish indeed to believe Corin wouldn’t seduce her. Why in the name of the gods this bothered him so much he didn’t know, but now at least he had to admit to it.
It bothered him.
It bothered him very much indeed and he was now deeply regretting agreeing to Corin’s scheme. Like the fool that he was he had gone and given out permission for another man to seduce her. It should have been him sitting next to her in that folly. Not to seduce her but ... to try to make her see that he wasn’t the bastard she believed him to be. Not completely at least, not to her.
More than anything he was furious that Corin had taken her to his mother’s orchard. He couldn’t figure out why but he realised that he had wanted to show her that place himself, one of the last places he had ever been happy. He wanted to show her everything.
All of it.
He wanted ...
He raged at his chaotic thoughts internally. She was driving him insane. The sooner they found out what Océane had been up to with that book and got rid of her, the better. Then things could return to normal. He thought the words with vehemence, but he knew he was lying to himself. The idea of returning to his normal life filled his heart with dread. And the idea of his home without Océane in it ...
With fury he returned to the castle, his heart full of rage and regret and with no other thought in his head than of beating something or someone to a pulp.