Ainthas saw the fierce look staining Randir’s features as he stalked across the bridge, the ropes swinging with his weight and every angry step. Eldrin turned to face him, brushing Ainthas’ shoulder almost as though he knew he intended to block the man from getting to the princess. Behind him, he could hear Laerwen suck in a sharp breath and knew standing as a blockade was the right decision. She’d had enough stress for the day.
“Move aside, highness,” Randir said, his eyes boring into Ainthas.
But Ainthas wasn’t swayed. “What business have you with the princess?”
“That is none of your concern. I wish to speak with her so move aside.”
“I fear I cannot,” Ainthas said. “For the princess is attending official royal business with me, my brother and the Lady of the Skye.”
Randir leaned around Ainthas to see Lady Talaiel who merely smiled sweetly and kept her cool. Laerwen’s face was still pale as she tried to recover from the news the rest of her people were dead. She wouldn’t meet Randir’s gaze and instead kept her eyes lowered. Now was not the time to confront Randir. But he wasn’t to be pushed off so easily. He looked at Lord Eldrin.
“And this is?”
“My brother, Lord Eldrin.” Ainthas’ voice was ice cold. “Surely you’ve heard of him? One of the best rangers. He helped lead the Battle for the Otherworld.”
Randir took a step back and then stopped. He charged forward. “Move aside. I wish to speak with my betrothed.”
As he charged, Eldrin removed his sword and pointed it at the man. “You threaten the crown prince of the Woodlands, sir. Stand down.”
Randir held up his hands in surrender, consternation look of consternation crossing his features. “I meant no harm. I merely wish to speak with Princess Laerwen.”
“Now is not the time,” Ainthas said.
The last thing she needed was an altercation with Randir. Learning those who had been left behind were killed had left her in shock. Her face had paled—he had never seen her so pale—and she had crumbled to the stairs. All he wanted to do in that instant was comfort her and hold her. He had tried but she had rebuffed him.
“Be gone before I have the guards arrest you.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
They stared at each other for a long moment in a silent standoff. Until at last Randir took several steps back. He positioned himself so he could make eye contact with Laerwen.
“I will see you soon, Princess.”
He stalked away, leaving the rope bridge swaying once again in his wake. Eldrin put away his sword. Ainthas relaxed his fists, realizing only then he had clenched them. Behind them, the princess blew out a low breath of relief.
“Who was that?” Eldrin asked.
“Just who he said. My betrothed,” Laerwen said, her voice cool and controlled. She sounded as though she’d regained some of her composure. Ainthas admired that she could pull herself together so quickly. “Thank you for begging him off for me. I don’t believe I have the energy to speak to him yet. I’m not ready to tell anyone else about the fate of those left behind in the Hin’Dar Rhule.”
“He seems rather forceful,” Talaeil observed.
“He doesn’t mean any harm. Not really. He wouldn’t hurt me, though I believe he thinks he still holds a claim to me no matter that my kingdom has been utterly destroyed.”
“Has the marriage contract been dissolved?” Eldrin turned toward her when he asked the question.
“No.” As she answered, she met Ainthas’ gaze.
Hope prickled through him. As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn’t. He held her gaze. He could see fear and pain and anguish in those whiskey-colored eyes and it squeezed his heart. He wanted to help her. He wanted to see that marriage contract dissolved as much as she did. Or, rather, he hoped she did. Because he couldn’t stop the need for her from racing through his blood. He couldn’t stop the want for her from skittering through his veins. No more than he could stop the desire from clouding his brain.
He meant what he said earlier—he shouldn’t take liberties with her. But that kiss was oh-so-sweet. He could still taste her on his tongue.
He was quickly losing himself to her.
Eldrin cleared his throat, bringing Ainthas’ attention back to the marriage contract. “Well, mayhap you can help her with that, brother.” He clapped him on the shoulder then held his hand out to Lady Talaiel. “Come, my love. Let’s rest before we meet for dinner.”
Without a word, she placed her hand in his and they walked away, leaving Ainthas alone with the princess. She clasped her hands and looked away, unable or unwilling to hold his gaze any longer. He could see a faint flush creep into her cheeks.
“You’ll have to excuse my brother,” he said at last. “He often speaks his mind before he should.”
“It’s…it’s all right.” She turned away, her hands gripping the rope handhold and staring off into the distance.
He had never seen such a faraway look before and it made him ache. He moved to stand beside her, keeping a fair amount of space between them. Not wanting to get too close. Not wanting to acknowledge the feelings pressing into him.
But he had to acknowledge it, didn’t he? He had to talk to her about the kiss they’d shared. He had to know where he stood with her. The look she gave him when discussing breaking the marriage contract told him she wanted that. She didn’t want to marry Randir.
“Princess, about that kiss—”
“Please don’t.” She whispered it so softly the wind nearly blew away her words.
“Why not?” he demanded a little more forcefully than he intended.
She closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them again. “I cannot.”
“You cannot what?” Ainthas couldn’t stop from reaching for her. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “You can’t break the betrothal? Laerwen, if that’s what you wish then I can help you. I can see to it—”
“Stop it.” She shrugged his hands off her and stepped back. Away from him. He could see the pain in her eyes and he didn’t understand it. Did she love Randir and she was keeping it from him? “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me.” He took a tentative step toward her, closing the space between them. He had to be close to her.
“Lord Randir is…he is a Fire Elf.” She clasped her hands together, holding them in front of her as though she tried to keep them still. To keep from fidgeting. “The betrothal cannot be broken.”
“Aye, he is and I am not. All betrothals can be broken in some way. I can—”
“No.” She looked at him then, her gaze piercing through him. Her eyes glinted with a hard edge. “It cannot. And you are not a Fire Elf. That is why this thing between us can never be.”
“Princess, I fail to see why that matters. My brother married a Skye Elf.”
“My kingdom was destroyed!”
She spun from him, shoving the veil from her hair. It fell back against her shoulders, showing her beautiful hair. He resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her hair.
“My kingdom is gone and Lord Randir is one of the few remaining nobles. I know what my parents would want me to do. What I should do.”
“But not what you want to do.” Again that hope pressed against his chest. This time it coiled there, hiding.
“No,” she whispered.
“Laerwen—”
“The kiss meant nothing.” She turned to face him, the color high in her cheeks and her eyes shiny with tears. “Nothing. Do you understand? I’m going to do the right thing. I’m going to marry Randir and once this…this war is over, we will return to the Hin’Dar Rhule and rebuild. Together. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Nothing? Challenge accepted. “I understand.” He closed the gap between them, stepping so close to her he could see the freckles dotting her nose. Freckles he had never noticed before. How truly delightful. “But because I understand doesn’t mean I have to like it. I will fight for you, Princess. He doesn’t love you.”
She stared at him a long moment before putting her hand on his chest right over his heart. Right over that coiled up hope. “Neither do you.”
The words were like a stab in the heart. No, mayhap he didn’t love her thus far. But he knew he was attracted to her. He knew he liked her fierce strength and her courage. He gripped her hand in his, brought her delicate fingers to his lips and kissed the tips.
“Not yet, Princess.” He smiled.
She slipped her fingers out of his hand and stepped away. This time he let her. But she never took her eyes off his as she continued to back from him until at last she turned and darted inside the palace.
* * * * *
Laerwen hurried through the palace halls until she made it back to her chamber. She slammed the door and leaned against the Elven wood, her heart hammering a wild beat.
What had just happened? Everything had spun out of control so quickly she hadn’t a chance to process it all. First Randir appeared, demanding to speak to her. She could guess what he wanted. No doubt to chastise her for disappearing from him earlier that day. The anger was clearly written on his face.
It was at that point Laerwen knew what she had to do. He was her betrothed. Her parents had made the arrangement long ago to strengthen the line. They were both Fire Elves, of the same blood. She owed it to them and her people to do the right thing and marry Randir, returning to rebuild.
But Ainthas…when he looked at her, she could see the fire in those jade eyes. She could feel it too when she placed her hand over his rapidly beating heart. Desire and need were clearly etched in his face. Burning in his eyes. Like he might die if he didn’t hold her in his arms.
She might die if he didn’t hold her in his arms. An admission she would never speak aloud.
And she could not forget that kiss. She had urged him on like some wanton wench. That searing kiss full of need and want and yearning. She could still taste the sweetness of his lips. The wild berries and honeywine on his tongue.
You taste like spun sugar.
His words echoed in her head. Her heart did a wild beat as she pressed her fingers against her lips.
She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the vision. To make her forget his words. When she saw Randir’s face, his rage, she knew she had been selfish. She knew she would have to make it right with Randir.
Laerwen pulled herself together, changed into a royal blue sari she had from the dressmaker. She covered her hair in the veil, throwing one end over her opposite shoulder. She would be the perfect princess. She would most certainly not make eye contact with Prince Ainthas and she would never use his given name. Not again.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her chamber door and headed to the dining hall. When she arrived, she was greeted with the sight of several nobles she had yet to meet. She hadn’t expected that. In fact, she was under the impression the dinner was for the four of them when the prince mentioned it.
Prince Ainthas and his brother, Lord Eldrin, were already there. Lady Talaiel was at Eldrin’s side looking radiant and beautiful and elegant in a gown of sapphire trimmed in silver. Laerwen would look like a wilting flower next to her. She took a step backward to disappear out of the dining hall before anyone saw her.
But Prince Ainthas caught a glimpse of her and smiled, waving her over.
Too late. No escape now.
Taking a deep breath, she headed toward them. Lady Talaiel greeted her with a smile and a hug.
When she pulled back, she held her at arm’s length. “How lovely you look in that color. It’s quite flattering.”
Ainthas nodded agreement, his gaze slipping over her before meeting her eyes. “You do look quite ravishing, if I may say.”
Laerwen couldn’t stop the blush rising. “You may. Thank you.”
Ainthas waved toward the long table in the center of the room. “Now that we’re all preset, shall we dine?”
He started for the table. Laerwen fell in step with the Lady of the Skye who hooked her arm through hers.
“He’s quite taken with you.” She spoke low so only she could hear.
“I’m sure that’s not true, my lady.” Laerwen didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want there to be anything to change her already made-up mind about marrying Randir.
“Oh, but it is. Have you not seen the way he looks at you?”
“I choose not to see.” She kept her gaze forward and off Ainthas. The last thing she needed was meeting his gaze yet again.
“Why is that?”
“My lady, I don’t believe anything can come out of a liaison with the prince.”
“Because you are from two different clans?” When Laerwen nodded, she squeezed her arm. “That can be overcome.”
“You only say that because you have managed to overcome it with Lord Eldrin.”
But what she wanted to say was Lord Eldrin was not crown prince. He was not next in line for the throne. Lady Talaiel was leader of the Skye Elves and though her position was not much different as princess to the Hin’Dar Rhule, there were vast differences. The Skye Elves were known recluses. Whereas the Fire Elves were not. Her land in the west was one of the first kingdoms travelers came to from the shore.
“Give it some time, your highness.” After another gentle squeeze, she released her to join her husband.
Before she could find a place as far from Ainthas as possible, his hand clasped her by the elbow and steered her toward a seat next to his.
“As my honored guest, I have a place for you near the head of the table,” he said and then lowered his voice. “Near me.”
A cool shudder shifted through her. There was no getting away from the prince this night.
Several candelabras adorned the table, their candles blazing brightly. There were platters of freshly baked bread, wheels of cheese, piles of fruit. They took their seats and the first course was served. A roasted boar and several roasted fowls. A servant poured honeywine in each goblet.
“Thank you all for coming,” Ainthas said. “I’m sure you all know why you’ve been asked here this evening.” Nods and murmurs of agreement before he pressed on. “Princess Laerwen’s realm, the Hin’Dar Rhule, has been destroyed by the Fomorians. We believe that threat is not over.”
“What’s being done about it?” It was one of the nobles sitting farther down the table. She didn’t know his name but she knew he was high-ranking with the Wood Elves.
“I have asked the Skye Elves for their assistance as well as the Fae,” Ainthas said.
“And we have agreed to help any way we can,” Lady Talaiel said.
Laerwen couldn’t help but admire her. She was cool and confident. A leader she would like to emulate.
“And I’ve received word from Queen Elyne in response to the missive I sent her a few days ago. She has agreed to send troops as soon as we need them,” Ainthas said.
“All that is well and good, Prince Ainthas, but what is our position?” the same nobleman asked. “Why have you called us here this night?”
“I’ve called to ask you to for your approval to form a war council. With my father’s failing health, it is left to me to find a solution to this matter with the Fomorians.”
“So it’s to be war, is it?”
“What Lord Malack means to express is that war is costly. Not only to the royal coffers but to lives,” another nobleman said.
“Aye, I agree, Lord Calnon. But I believe it’s a necessary war. An unavoidable war. One that we must face.” Ainthas gripped his goblet, his nail beds turning white. “If we do not prepare now, we will be ill-equipped for battle. I will not risk lives of innocents. I will not stand by and do nothing.”
“Nor I.” Lord Eldrin leaned forward and pinpointed his gaze first on Lord Malack and then on Lord Calnon. “It is our duty to respond to this new threat.”
“What makes you so sure the Fomorians are coming back?” Malack fiddled with his knife, spinning it round and round as though bored with the entire discussion. “It could be they were sated with the destruction of the Hin’Dar Rhule. Though I can’t see why they wanted to destroy such a desolate area.”
“A desolate area, my lord?” Laerwen spoke for the first time, her voice cold as the first snowfall. “Should I remind you the Hin’Dar Rhule has provided you and other realms precious jewels? Some were even forged from the first fires of the volcanoes.”
“And not much else. We can get jewels just about anywhere.” Lord Malack didn’t bother to hide his snooty tone. He even punctuated his insult with a sniff of derision.
“So are you then saying the Hin’Dar Rhule doesn’t matter?”
Malack looked right at her, his eyes dark and shadowed. “Aye. That’s what I’m saying.” He pressed his lips together to punctuate his sentence.
Anger surged through Laerwen’s veins so immediate she fisted her hand and bashed it against the table. Plates clattered in the aftermath. “My people were murdered. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Lord Malack, do not downplay the tragedy at the Hin’Dar Rhule. For it is a tragedy.” Ainthas reached for her, placing his hand over her fist. She relaxed then, his touch calming her. “The women were raped. The children were killed. The men who tried to defend them were slaughtered. The Fomorians did not take mercy on anyone. Even the king and queen were not spared. This is not something to be taken lightly. They will never be sated with that. They are nothing but barbaric brutes. A real threat to the Otherworld.”
She glared at Lord Malack from her place at the table. His eyes touched on their twined fingers before meeting her gaze. He swallowed hard. Mayhap swallowing his pride as he said, “You have my condolences, your highness. I deeply regret my words here this evening. However,” he paused and looked at Ainthas then, “I cannot give you my vote for a war.”
“I can,” Lord Calnon said. “You have my support, Prince Ainthas.”
“And mine,” Lord Eldrin said.
“Then shall we take an official vote? All those in favor of the war, say aye.”
It would have been unanimous had Lord Malack voted but he abstained. The bastard. Laerwen would remember that, for now he had become her enemy.
“Now that the business has concluded, mayhap we can continue to dine with more pleasant conversation.” Ainthas had yet to release her hand and she was reluctant to remove it. He picked up his goblet and held it aloft. “To Princess Laerwen and the Fire Elves. Your fight is not yet over.”
“Huzzah!” they cheered and toasted her.
All but Lord Malack who shoved his chair back, the legs scraping along the wood floor. He flung his napkin into his seat as he stalked from the dining hall. Everyone watched his retreat. Ainthas squeezed her hand.
“Do not let him ruffle you, Princess,” he said. He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed the tips.
“Aye, ignore the bastard,” Lord Eldrin added. “He’s a crotchety old man who needs nothing more than a good lay with a woman to fix his bad attitude.”
“Eldrin!” Talaiel scolded on a gasp. “That’s not appropriate dinner conversation.”
But Laerwen laughed. It felt good to laugh, releasing all the pent-up tension and anger and allowing her to enjoy her food.
The heavy meal included leek soup followed by roasted pheasant, roasted mutton, mushrooms in a cream sauce, as well as other vegetables and oat cakes. Dessert was some sort of frozen delight covered in chocolate sauce. She had never experienced anything like it but devoured it. When she scraped the bowl clean, a smiling Ainthas pushed his bowl to her. She gave him a questioning look.
“You seemed to enjoy it.”
She attacked it with relish. Far more than she had in years. She loved the way the cold dessert froze her tongue.
“We have nothing like this in my realm,” she said. “What is it?”
“My human friends call it ice cream. One of them—a lady named Maggie—taught us how to make it.”
“You mean you have more human friends than Sir Drake?”
He chuckled. “Aye. It’s quite a story if you’d like to hear it someday.”
“I would.”
The light moment was interrupted with Leopold, Ainthas’ servant. He seemed to appear out of nowhere and leaned down to whisper something in Ainthas’ ear. Laerwen watched as the color drained from his face and his brow was immediately creased with worry. He nodded and rose, his gaze seeking Eldrin’s.
“Lord Eldrin, would you come with me at once, please?”
Eldrin rose. “Is something wrong?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
Laerwen watched as they left abruptly. Fear crept over her. She had a terrible feeling it had something to do with the king.
Ainthas hurried from the dining hall with Eldrin at his side.
“What is it?” Eldrin asked. “Is it Father?”
“Aye.” Ainthas couldn’t stave off the fear gripping him.
“What did the message say, Ainthas?” Eldrin’s tone was demanding. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a stop. “Tell me before we arrive.”
“He woke again. He’s stayed awake but he doesn’t look well. We must hurry.”
By the time they got to their father’s chamber, Sobriel was at his bedside. She perched on the edge, holding his hand. Navin stood on the other side, staunch yet stiff. Brom, their healer, stood at the foot of the bed waiting for them to arrive. But seeing his other siblings already there, Ainthas knew nothing good would come of this.
“You’re here at last,” Brom said on the breath of relief.
“Thank the gods you came.” Sobriel jumped from the bed.
“Is he coherent?” Ainthas asked.
“Aye…I am.” The king himself answered. He lifted his hand and waved Ainthas toward him. “Come closer…my son.”
Ainthas stepped toward the bed, took his hand and sat. Sobriel and Eldrin crowded around him. He had to admit his father didn’t look well at all. His skin was pale and thin. So thin, he could see the veins running a wiry path. His lips were stark white. While he held his hand, Ainthas could swear he could feel every bone, he was so frail. It saddened him because he knew what was to come next. He knew his father would not live to see another sunrise.
“Father, you had us all worried,” Ainthas said and forced a smile.
He coughed a deep raspy cough before he got it under control. He squeezed Ainthas’ hand. “I’ll not live much longer.” His voice was a whisper.
“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine.”
But Urdithane was already shaking his head. “You know it…to be true.” He gasped for a breath, as though trying to suck as much air into his lungs as he could.
“Father…”
“Ainthas…you will be king now. You…must protect the realm from…that monster. And…break the betrothal.”
“That monster?” Ainthas glanced back at Eldrin.
“He must think Marath still lives,” Eldrin said.
Aye, of course. He wouldn’t know the lord-regent had been killed or that Sobriel had been saved from marrying him. “Father, Marath is dead. Sobriel is safe. We are all safe.” It was a kind lie. One that would send his father to the gods with peace in his heart.
Urdithane patted his hand. “Good. That’s good.” He closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillow. “I know…the kingdom is safe…with you on the throne. And your brother…leading the rangers.”
“Aye, Father.”
Behind him, Sobriel sniffed and hiccupped with a sob. She knew, as they all did, this was the final time their father would speak. He stole a glance over his shoulder, saw tears streaking down her face as Eldrin stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders for comfort.
“You will be a good king, my son,” Urdithane said. His eyes fluttered open once more. He took a moment to look at each one of them. His gaze lingered on Navin first, then Eldrin, the Sobriel. “You have all made me proud. My children.”
With that he closed his eyes. His hand relaxed in Ainthas’. He knew without a doubt his father had gone to the gods.
“Is he…” Eldrin started but stopped.
“Aye. He’s gone.”
Sobriel turned into Eldrin and wept openly.
“May he find peace,” Brom said.
They all bowed their heads in their own silent prayer.