Bound to the Prince (18 page)

The blanket slid down her shoulder and fell
to the ground. Slowly she entered the pool, shivering when the cool
water played around her feet. But it felt refreshing at the same
time and soothed the aching muscles of her calves. She waded deeper
into the pond, easing through the water lilies, brushing the leaves
gently aside with her hands. After a few steps she detected that
the pool was much deeper than she thought, for her feet could
hardly reach the ground anymore. Igraine held her breath and dived
down. Drifting weightlessly in the water was wonderful. Coming up
again, she rubbed her skin as hard as she could, trying to wash off
the blood and dirt as thoroughly as possible. After that, she
proceeded with her hair, scrubbing her head with her fingertips
until her scalp hurt, but in the end it seemed to be clean
enough.

She sighed when she thought of Elathan’s
luxurious assortment of soaps he kept in his cave by the lake.
Smiling, she plucked one of the water lilies and started to rub the
delicate petals over her face, neck and shoulders, then over her
breasts, hoping the sweet scent would still cling to her body when
she returned to him.

Sinful thoughts occupied her mind. Closing
her eyes, she threw back her head and remembered the hot trail his
lips and tongue had left on her skin, the perfect feeling of his
hardness entering her, moving, thrusting deep … A soft moan escaped
her lips, and her hand glided over the sensitive side of her neck,
slowly wandering down to one of her breasts, cupping her aching
flesh, all the while wishing it were his long, sensitive fingers
that touched her instead of her own.

So lost was she in her dreams that she didn’t
notice when the water started to move around her. At first, she
didn’t feel the touch of small hands that caressed her hair, her
back and sides, so light it could have been the lily flower that
had fallen out of her hand, floating on the water’s surface beside
her. Soft kisses rained on her face, no more but the fluttering of
a butterfly’s wings on her cheeks.

A pearly female laughter sounded close to her
ear, and whispers filled the air. “She had him. I can smell him on
her skin.”

“I taste him on her face,” another voice
said, sweet and high, almost like a child’s.

“And I still feel his heat where he took
her,” a third voice piped, while slender fingers trailed over her
thigh, brushing slightly over the soft mound between her legs.

Slowly, Igraine opened her eyes and looked
directly into the deep, blue-green gaze of a woman. Her mind didn’t
seem to function normally. She should have been frightened to
death, yet she wasn’t. It was hard to think clearly, as if her
thoughts were lost in a thick cloud that filled her head. Suddenly
she felt sleepy and longed to return to the water's edge, just to
take a little nap. Still she couldn’t resist watching the beautiful
creature before her.

It was a young woman - very young indeed, for
she seemed to have just blossomed into womanhood. She was
completely naked, with small soft breasts and a lithe, slender
body, her skin so white that is was nearly translucent. Igraine
could see a delicate net of bluish veins at the girl’s neck, even
the blood pulsating near to her throat. Green tendrils of water
plants were entangled in her long, auburn hair that reached down to
her waist and was plastered to her wet body like a natural piece of
clothing. But the girl’s eyes betrayed her outer appearance. They
seemed to belong to a much older being, not innocent but glowing
with wisdom and malice.

A light touch at her shoulder made Igraine
turn around. There were two other women, one on each side of her,
who looked exactly like the first one. Their soft white arms
encircled Igraine closely, as if they wanted to embrace her. But
she could still feel how strong they were, more than mere girls
should be. They were holding her imprisoned, and there was nothing
she could do against it. When she struggled to free her arms, they
only clung tighter to her body, making it impossible for her to
move at all.

The first girl smiled sweetly, revealing
white teeth that seemed to be sharp with tiny fangs. Perfect for
tearing apart the flesh of fish and little water animals, Igraine
realized without knowing from where the thought had come. When she
took a closer look at the woman’s neck, she saw gills behind her
ears, barely visible because their color exactly matched the pale
skin. She lifted a hand to caress Igraine’s cheek, and there were
even tiny webs between her fingers.

Mermaid, a voice whispered inside Igraine’s
head. But the girl had perfectly human legs, so she must be
something else … A water nymph, Igraine thought in wonder, so
fascinated that she didn’t realize the deadly danger she was
in.

“Little sister,” the nymph said, her voice as
caressing as the touch of her hand on Igraine’s cheek. “Come with
us. You will forget everything that ails you, bathing in the sweet
warm waters of oblivion forever. No fear, no pain, I promise. We
will care for you, young one, I and my sisters. We’ll comb your
beautiful hair and braid it before we lay you down on a bed of
flowers at the water’s edge. The prince will find you there when he
comes for you. He'll never see you fade as you grow old and weak,
his desire eternal and undying. The beautiful image of your pale,
still body will be engraved in his mind forever, and he'll keep it
in his heart always. You will be … immortal.” The last word was but
a whisper into Igraine’s ear, sending little shivers down her
spine.

Igraine felt the creatures' magic all around
her, coaxing her to let go of her life without fighting against
them. Just for the blink of an eye, she wondered how it would feel
to sink into their white arms, allowing them to draw her down into
the deep waters of the pond. But she managed to shake her head. The
first nymph who had spoken hissed and narrowed her eyes.
“No,” Igraine whispered. “I can’t. Elathan … he needs me.”

Suddenly, the nymph’s beautiful face was
contorted with hatred and fury. She drew back her lips over her
sharp teeth, making her expression look almost reptilian.

“He needs
you
? A human?” she shrieked,
her voice not sweet but high and shrill now. Igraine felt the
fingers of the nymph’s sisters dig deep into her flesh as they
began to pull her down, towards the bottom of the pond.

“He doesn’t need you,” one of the other two
added, very close to Igraine’s ear. “We had him long before you
were born, all three of us. He could never find pleasure in the
arms of a mortal woman after being with a nymph,” she remarked
cruelly.

“Oh, we know the prince, little human,” the
third one continued in a mocking tone. “He took me in every way
imaginable. I had him, between my thighs, in my mouth … I will
never forget how hard he is, how strong, and how he tasted when he
…”

Igraine had enough. She felt a hot rush of
anger racing through her body. At the same time, an overwhelming
feeling of jealousy and possessiveness took hold of her. “Stop it!”
she cried out. “I don’t care if you had him ages ago, fish women.
We shared our blood. He is mine now, and there is nothing you can
…”

A cold hand covered her head and pushed her
under water before she had time to hold her breath. Instinctively,
she gasped for air instead of closing her mouth. Cold water filled
her lungs, and she began to struggle desperately against the nymphs
who dragged her down, deeper and deeper, but it was in vain.

The last thing she saw before the black water
swallowed her world were his golden eyes, looking at her with
concern when she had left him in the clearing. A sudden knowledge
came to her, a feeling so pure, so strong she had never even
imagined herself to be capable of it. But it was too late.

I love him
, a clear voice in her mind
whispered before darkness embraced her. Then, as the nymphs had
promised, all fear and pain was gone, and she sank down into sweet
oblivion.

To Igraine’s surprise, she was not dead
yet.

She didn't see Elathan when he stormed into
the glade like a flash of silvery light, his regal face a grimace
of deadly fury. She didn't see him throw his lance into the dark
waters of the pond, piercing the heart of the nymph who had her
hand on Igraine’s head, mercilessly pushing her down with a cold
smile on her delicate features while she openly enjoyed the human’s
desperate struggle for breath.

She didn't hear his voice rolling like
thunder over the calm surface of the water, ordering the other two
sisters to leave his forest and never return if they didn’t want to
suffer the same fate, while the dying nymph’s blood gushed from the
wound like a red fountain; a crimson pool forming around her and
spreading over the pond. She didn't see the naked fear on their
innocent faces before they took their sister, retrieved the spear
from her chest and pulled her down into the depths, escaping
through some underground water system to another lake or river
before Elathan could end their lives, as well.

And she didn't see him plunge deep into the
pool, searching for her as she slowly drifted to the ground, her
long hair floating around her head like a cloud. Finally, he
grabbed her arms and pulled her out to the water’s edge, where he
lay her down on the soft grass. He covered her mouth with his,
breathing life into her until she coughed and spat out the water
that filled her lungs.

As Igraine slowly came to her senses, she
felt strong arms around her, cradling her to a muscular chest. She
felt smooth skin that felt burning hot against her icy cheek, heard
the quick pounding of a strong heart. A deep, melodic voice, nearly
breaking with emotion, murmured words in an unknown language to
her.

“
Ná faigh bás, Igraine. Ná faigh bás,
”
he said again and again. It sounded like a command, as if the words
held a magic spell that could bring her back to life. It wasn’t
necessary to know his elven tongue to understand their meaning.
Do not die.
He pulled her even closer, resting his chin on
her head while he chanted those three words like an ancient song,
rocking her back and forth like a child. His hair fell forward over
his shoulders, caressing her naked body like a lover’s touch.

The prince noticed the regular beating of her
heart and the faint color that had come to her cheeks again. Before
he finally fell silent, he said something else. It was but a
whisper breathed into her hair, but she heard the words
nevertheless. “
Tá mé i ngrádh leat.
” Although she didn't
comprehend what he meant, all of a sudden she felt like her heart
would break.

They both realized that she shivered; he let
go of her for a moment to quickly to pull off his shirt and dress
her cold, wet body in it. His warmth still clung to it. Igraine
sighed when his unique scent surrounded her like a caress, calming
her fears. “I need to get you warm,” he said. “Let’s leave this
evil place.”

He swept her up in his arms without waiting
for her approval, standing up with ease. Then she watched in awe as
the elf stretched out his hand from under her body as if he
expected something to be given to him. Suddenly a long root on the
ground slowly wound itself around the shaft of his spear and raised
it up to him, placing it into his palm. Igraine gasped and looked
into his eyes questioningly. “You are a magician,” she said at
last.

“Not exactly,” Elathan answered, while he
started to walk. To her surprise, he was carrying her effortlessly
in his arms. He ignored the elder bushes at the edge of the glade
that parted to let him through. “My people would call me a
wood-former, but this magic is not my most important ability. I am
also able to summon fire if I wish, as well as control or destroy
it. The power over the flame is a very mighty gift, and it is only
bestowed to the throne heir, the king’s oldest son. I was born with
it.” He grinned. “You should have heard my nanny’s screams when I
set the nursery on fire for the first time. She was a cave troll
and gave me the beating of my life to teach me not to do it again.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Next place where I started a fire was
her bed.”

“You must have been a charming little
prince,” Igraine remarked, and he chuckled. She loved it when a
smile softened his sinister features. It made his face almost
painfully beautiful. Hesitantly she stretched out her hand to touch
the old scar across his cheek, tracing it with her fingertips. “My
dark angel,” she whispered. Elathan's eyes widened, and it occurred
to her that, it had been a long time since he heard an endearment
like this, if ever. He held her close to the hard muscles of his
chest, as if she was made of glass and he was afraid to drop her.
Never before in her life had she felt so safe.

When they reached the clearing, a merry fire
was burning in the middle. The boar Elathan had brought from his
hunt was roasting on a wooden spit that seemed to turn on itself,
enhanced by magic. But when Igraine looked closer she saw several
tiny lights flying around one end, obviously moving it. She
stiffened when she recognized them. They didn't seem to like what
they were doing; she could hear their high, agitated shrieks.

“Yes, some of your little friends who tried
to lure you into the bog,” Elathan said close to her ear. “It is
part of their punishment. They fear nothing more than open fire,
for it can burn their delicate wings if they are not careful. I do
not take it lightly if someone tries to kill what is mine, even if
it is in their nature. They are vile little creatures.”

He shooed them away with a gesture of his
hand, telling them something in his elven tongue. It sounded like a
warning. Igraine guessed that it might be an old form of Gaelic,
but softer and less guttural. His mesmerizing voice would have made
any language sound like an alluring song. She loved just listening
to him.