Bound to the Prince (34 page)

“I, Ruadan, will bring the kingdom back to
its former glory. Too long have we allowed the kingdom to be
weakened by those who wished to govern their own people, defending
their own borders without subjecting to the law. First we’ll
conquer the Fae who haven’t agreed to become a part of the kingdom
yet, and they will answer to my royal call. The dark elves of the
wild lands in the south, the giants, the seafolk and the creatures
of the underworld, they all will bend their knees and swear their
oath to me.

“Then, the guild of magicians who still live
in their hidden valley and answer to no one, not even their
rightful king. I will grant mercy to those who succumb to the law
and agree that all usage of magic will be controlled by the council
of elders. Stripped of their honors and selfish pride, the
sorcerers will become what they are meant to be – servants to the
people, helping them whenever the council deems it wise to use
magic, considering the dangers.

“Finally, I will reach out into the world of
humans. Fools as they are, unaware that only a thin curtain
separates them from the Fae, and that we can cross the threshold
any time we want. Their ignorance and disbelief makes them easy
targets. The strong ones will be useful as slaves to build the new
palace I’m planning. The rest of them will surrender or die, like
they are destined. King Bres has kept the peace for many years, but
he has left his people weak and unprotected against any enemy who
should choose to attack the elven realms. Now, the reign of Ruadan
has begun.”

Without waiting for the appraising noise that
would unerringly follow, he stretched out his hand for the golden
crown that one of the druids held up on a silken pillow, ready to
crown himself in the time-honored tradition of all the great kings
before him.

“Nice speech, brother,” a deep, melodic voice
broke the silence. Ruadan’s hand fell to his side, and he turned
towards the crowd, which had parted to make way for Elathan, who
had dropped his hooded cloak to the floor. A collective gasp went
through the elven nobles as they recognized their prince. Behind
him, the Prince’s Men had cornered the armored trolls and held them
captive with their swords while the prince walked up to the dais.
“You seem to have great plans. But I fear that your efforts were in
vain. As King Bres’s firstborn son, I have come to claim my right
to the throne.”

The trolls’ snarls and growls were the only
sounds in the hall while the courtiers turned to the throne
again.

Ruadan looked at him skeptically, lifting one
arched black brow. “Interesting attempt, traitor. I wouldn’t have
expected you to come back after you killed our noble father. Now I
suggest that you order your men to release my guards and let
yourself be taken to the dungeon where you will patiently wait for
your trial and execution.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Elathan
asked.

“Because my trolls found this worthless
creature, shortly before the ceremony. She was wandering around in
the tunnels under the castle.” Ruadan gestured, and one of his
servants opened the door to the antechamber where a screaming and
kicking Igraine was tied to a wooden beam. “I assume this shapely
human belongs to you?” At his side, Breena smiled sweetly.

Elathan narrowed his eyes, but the expression
of his faces stayed unmoved. “A slave? I have never seen her
before,” he said coldly.

“So you won’t object if we kill her right on
the spot,” Ruadan suggested. The servant pulled out a dagger and
held it to Igraine’s throat, waiting for his master’s order.

Elathan closed his eyes shortly. “I thought I
told you to stay back in the woods,” he said, loud enough for
Igraine to hear him. Then he called out to his men. “Release the
trolls.” Looking at Ruadan, he nodded. “You will let her leave
unharmed, accompanied by my men,” he said. “Swear it in front of
this court. In return, I will not challenge your right to be king
again, and I’ll declare myself guilty at my trial without further
resistance.”

“Agreed,” Ruadan answered. “I swear. Now
seize him."

* * * * *

As soon as the servant cut her loose, Igraine
ran straight to the door to enter the great hall. “No!” she cried.
“You can’t take him! He is not guilty! Elathan didn’t kill the
king, he was with me!”

Her voice was suffocated by the deafening
noise that was coming from the hall when all hell broke loose. A
horde of trolls surrounded Elathan, who simply stood there with a
bored smile, presenting his wrists to be bound while they took his
sword from him. Women screamed, Fae of all races flew from the
throne room not to be trampled down by the furious troll guards,
driven by their instinct to kill once it had been awakened.
Elathan’s warriors stormed into the antechamber, gathering around
Igraine to protect her.

A wall of tall, muscular elves stood in her
way now. Out of her mind with anger, she tried to push them away,
helplessly hitting against their metal armor with her bare hands.
“Go back!” she shrieked, “Defend your prince, for heaven’s sake!
What kind of guard are you if you just let them take him away?”

“We must, my Lady,” one of them said, a young
elf with golden hair and sunburned skin. She thought that she had
heard the others call him Kalan. “We have to follow my Prince’s
orders.” But when she looked up into his face, she saw that his
eyes were filled with unshed tears.

Igraine wanted to answer, trying to change
his mind. Right then, she looked over his shoulder into the throne
room and saw Elathan, with a troll’s short, broad sword pressed to
his neck. They had removed his armor and stripped him down to the
waist to wrap heavy iron chains around his body. She saw that the
metal burned his skin, but he didn’t flinch or move at all. The Fae
have an intense dislike for iron, she remembered from a book she
once read, and now she knew why.

The prince’s face was as hard and unmoving as
a stone, so different from the carefree, enamoring elf who had told
her stories by the fire at night. Their days in the Enchanted
Forest seemed to be ages away now, like a wondrous dream that had
ended all too soon. Feeling her gaze on him, he turned his head
slightly and looked her right in the eyes, and just for the merest
moment they were aflame with all the love he felt for her.
Go,
Igraine
, she heard his deep voice inside her mind, and it
wasn’t a plea. It was a command.

A strong arm reached around her waist and
pulled her away. She broke into breathless sobs when the door to
the great hall was closed, separating her from Elathan forever. But
Calatin was there, holding her in his embrace while she cried
desperately, aware that there was nothing she could do to prevent
what would happen. They would kill her prince, and he’d die alone
and dishonored. It was her fault. He had ordered her to remain in
the woods, waiting at the entrance to the secret tunnels that led
into the castle. But she could not endure staying away and followed
at a safe distance, fearing that she could not fulfill Aon’s
prophecy and save him when his life was in danger. Now her own
foolish actions had sealed his fate.

Firmly urged forward by Calatin, Igraine ran
along the secret corridors underneath the palace. The elven
warriors were close on their heels, tortured by their own wish to
go back and fight for their prince. But Calatin had made it clear
that they had to escape before Ruadan changed his mind and ordered
his trolls to kill them all. Although the knights were more than
ready to die for Elathan, they agreed that it would be best to
leave now and come back to free him later. The prince had told them
to protect Igraine no matter what happened to him, and they had to
respect his last wish, whether they liked his command or not.

At a bend in the tunnels, the magician told
his men that he wanted to speak to Igraine alone, and he sent them
ahead. When they were gone, he turned to her with a penetrating
look. Breathing heavily from the long run, she leaned against the
humid rock of the wall.

“My Lady,” Calatin said, hesitating. “May I
ask how far you would go to save Elathan, if there was a
possibility?”

Angered, she narrowed her eyes at him. “How
dare you ask me such a question, Calatin? You are his best friend.
I expected you to know about the bond we share. Do I really have to
tell you? I love him. I would readily die if I could save his
life.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips,
laughing when she pulled her fingers away. “Forgive me, Igraine. I
never questioned your feelings for my Prince, but what I wish you
to do is so terrible, so dangerous that Elathan would kill me for
it if he knew I asked it of you. I know that I have sworn to
protect you. But even if we attack the castle with all our men and
peasants who are loyal to the prince, even if my magic was strong
enough to bring us right into the inner bailey, there won’t be
enough of us to kill all the troll guards and the rest of Ruadan’s
followers. We’ll die a noble death in battle for our prince, but it
will serve him nothing.

Ruadan can’t be crowned now that Elathan has
challenged his right to the throne, so he has to get rid of him
quickly. He will be executed in two days. It is the fastest way to
get him tried by the elders, who would never condemn a prince
without believable proof, even if Ruadan threatened their families.
But Elathan has sworn to confess to being guilty in exchange for
your safety, and he will keep his word. By law the court of the
elders can’t doubt the word of a royal prince, and they will
sentence him to death, even if they know that he didn’t kill the
king.”

Igraine put a hand over her chest to steady
the frantic beating of her heart. “How…” she began, but the rest of
the words got stuck in her throat.

“Beheading. With his own sword,” Calatin
answered darkly. “It is the most honorable way to die for a noble
traitor.”

“Tell me what I can do,” she whispered.

“There is a city which is forgotten by most
of the Fae because it is one of the darkest, most dangerous places
in all of the Elven Realms. It is inhabited by sinister creatures.
They will kill anyone who enters their realm unbidden, tearing him
to pieces before he can utter a single word.”

“Then how can I …”

“Gargoyles,” Calatin continued, his eyes
holding hers captured. “You wish to ask me why they should let you
pass, a human woman? They won’t, for they answer alone to the king
of the Tuatha Dé Danann, or to his true heir. You are Elathan’s
slave of pleasure, Igraine. You have his blood in your veins, since
you bonded with him.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “But how will they know
that if they don’t even let me speak?”

“They will have to taste his blood in yours
when they attack you. If not too many of them wound you at once,
you’ll live long enough to let them recognize you as Elathan’s
mate. They will let you enter their city then, and you can ask
their chieftain for help. They are well versed in the use of magic,
so they might even heal you. If we had them on our side, the
greatest army couldn’t resist us.”

Igraine almost laughed. Her chances in this
mission were nearly nonexistent. She cleared her throat. “So you
suggest that I try to enter this city of gargoyles, hold still
while they attack me in order to let them draw my blood, all the
while hoping that they’ll taste Elathan’s blood in mine? If I
survive all this, I am to talk to their chieftain so the gargoyles
will help us to fight Ruadan’s guard and free Elathan before he is
executed in two days’ time?”

Calatin winced, not able to look into her
eyes anymore. “That’s right,” he admitted.

“Sounds great. Now would you please show me
the shortest way to this city of gargoyles?”

“The gargoyles will go for your eyes first,
Igraine,” Calatin said calmly while created a magic door in the
cavern wall, much similar to the one that had led her to the
Enchanted Forest. “They like to blind their victims before they go
for the kill. And never lie to them, for they will know it and kill
you instantly. They can smell your fear when you don’t tell the
truth.” Slowly the rock moved aside and gave way to a blinding
light, so they couldn’t see what was on the other side. “If it’s
necessary, remind them of the oath they swore to the elven kings
long ago: That they should help the realm in times of need. In
return, they were granted their independence and the right to abide
by their own laws as long as they didn’t hurt any Fae.”

It didn’t escape Igraine’s notice that the
rule about not hurting anyone obviously wasn’t valid for humans.
Shrugging that small detail off, she simply closed her eyes and
stepped into the silver light that poured through the opening in
the rock. “Farewell, my Lady,” she heard Calatin’s voice behind
her, clear but slowly fading away. “We’ll await you in the woods
until tomorrow at sundown. After that, we’ll head to the palace to
defend our prince, come what may. I’ll pray to the gods for your
safe return. You are our only hope now.”

The light was so bright that she was even
blinded through closed lids, so she covered her face in her hands.
Then, it was gone and a deep darkness surrounded her. When a cool
breeze touched her skin, she let her arms fall to her sides.
Opening her eyes, everything was black for a moment, but she heard
a sound that she had not expected; possibly since she had just been
in cave tunnels, deep inside a mountain. It was the song of a night
bird.

After a while her eyes adjusted to the dark,
and she saw that she was in the open, though she couldn’t see the
sky above. She was standing on a narrow forest path, with
incredibly high trees growing on either side. Their branches were
densely covered with leaves and entwined, so that they formed an
arched ceiling, allowing just a hint of light to pass through.
Igraine had no choice but to follow the path, stumbling along in
the hope that she wouldn’t fall over a root and sprain her ankle or
break her leg.