Conspiracy (7 page)

I knelt down beside him. “Gregor, what’s wrong?” I questioned.

He grasped my hand. “Wait!” was all he managed to say as he squeezed my hand so hard I thought it would break.

For a long time, Gregor was rigid and unyielding, as if he was having a seizure. I had the idea that if I could meld our minds, I might find out what was wrong.

I reached out again and images swam through my brain, quickly and furiously with their attention to detail. Gregor was thinking about me. I thought that odd—why would his thoughts be centered on me if he was ill?

In his thoughts, I was in a wedding dress and Gregor stood by me. We were getting married! Then he was battling the gruesome
Olc
and he was injured. In his vision, I was nearby, crying with Reagan comforting me.

I felt Gregor’s hand start to relax in mine and he collapsed in my arms, both of us sitting on the kitchen floor. I stroked his hair back from his face as his eyes twitched with the last remnants of the seizure that had just enveloped him body and mind. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at me. My concern must have shown on my face because he gave a wan smile and reached up to touch my cheek.

“Leave it to me to kill the mood,” he said.

“Gregor, what
was
that?” I asked.

“How much did you see?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never experienced it before, but I was pretty connected to you, emotionally I mean. I didn’t know you felt that strongly about me. It was as if I could feel everything you were feeling,” I responded.

He sat up, pulling me into his arms. “Heather, I didn’t want to tell you this way, certainly not this early.”

“Now you’re scaring me! What’s going on, Gregor?”

“Hear me out before you say anything,” he cautioned. “One of my Elven gifts, or curse, as I sometimes think of it, is that I have visions of the future. I had one last week when I left the Western Realm, and I saw our future together. We were getting married.” He rubbed my fingers in his own while I listened in stunned silence.

“The visions I have
always
come true. You can imagine how I felt coming back to the Western Realm and seeing you with Michael every night, him touching you and kissing you, when I knew that one day you would be my wife. I wanted to beat him, but of course, I couldn’t,” he said. “This vision was about the same as the last one.”

“What about all that stuff with you getting hurt and me crying?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I saw it before, the first time, but I don’t fully understand it.”

“So I have no say in this? No choice? You know I’m involved with Mick, and this whole situation is very touchy right now. If Mick knew I had kissed you . . .”

“I know, Heather, and I’m really sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you. I would have let things play out on their own, but you saw what was in my head. Apparently I can’t hide my thoughts from you. Perhaps that’s part of our future together.”

I sat there, not sure what to think. After clearing my head a bit, I was shocked at my behavior in my
kitchen
! Anyone could have walked in on us rutting like two sheep on a farm. I really didn’t trust myself anymore. Something about these Elven men made my  “good girl” side fly out the window.

Gregor was obviously waiting for me to say something.

“You probably want me to say, ‘It’s fate… let’s get hitched’ or something like that, but I can’t. I don’t… I don’t trust myself right now to do the right thing. I need to sort through the things that have happened over the last few weeks and decide what my next move should be.”

“I understand,” Gregor said. “I’ll finish up in here, put the roast in the oven, and then I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

I nodded and went to my room. I tried to take a nap, but images of Mick and Gregor kept running through my mind. His breath, his lips, even his facial hair all enveloped my thoughts. And I had responded. Had even desired more. Why? And how was I ever going to get out of this predicament?

Chapter Six

The Southern Realm

Gregor had deceived everyone. He was not actually a Bulgarian elf. He was not even a European elf. And most certainly he was not
Sidhe Olc
, although he had posed as one for the prior seventy years while serving as chief of security for the royal family of the Eastern Realm. He had only gone home twice during that seventy years, but then, elves thought differently about time. They had much more of it to live. None of the Eastern or Western Realm elves knew about Gregor’s true geographical origin outside of myth and legend, but the beauty of his Elven homeland was in his heart each and every day.

After his discussion with Heather, a premature disclosure he had hoped to avoid, he left the cabin and walked to an isolated spot within view of the cabin dock where he sifted to the one place he never had to imagine. It was ingrained in his psyche.

Now he stood on a high promontory just outside the cave which contained the Southern Realm portal, gazing out over the verdant valley toward the east with the majestic snow-capped Southern Alps at his back. His mind was at ease for the first time in many years.
This
was his favorite spot in the entire world—elf or human. This was where his heart returned in those lonely, silent moments when he wished that his assignment to the Eastern Realm were not necessary, that he could assume his rightful role amongst his own people. And this was where he, as the crown prince of the Southern Realm—known to the humans these past two hundred years as New Zealand—could stand in the shadow of his father, King Orleon, the greatest of the Elven kings and the man he respected more than any other he knew.

As Gregor stood silently gazing out upon his homeland, he reflected on how his life had come to this point in time. How his father’s command had taken him away from the Southern Realm—away from his duties, away from his friends, away from his brother, and away from Camille.

Even the thought of her—and their arranged betrothal—brought a smile to his lips. They had known one another since childhood, romped in these hills, explored the caverns, even crossed the portal into the human world against the command of their parents.

They were not sweethearts. They had not been lovers. They were not even attracted to each other in a physical way, but they were as close as a man and woman could be without sexual intimacy. Camille was … he smiled to himself yet again, breathing deeply of the crisp mountain air ... she was …
Camille,
his closest friend and youthful companion. Others, including their parents, assumed their close relationship to be acceptance of the pending marriage. Gregor and Camille knew differently and that had been their private secret for many years.
They
knew it would never happen. But no matter—at his father’s gentle, whispered command across the portal of time, he was home.

To the north, safely hidden—hopefully—in their Virginia cabin, Aegir, Mallorie, Eimile, and Alisha, even Sean—or Ian, as he was now known in Washington—knew nothing of the Southern Realm. Reagan and Heather, the part Elven humans, knew even less. After thousands of years of separation, each royal family thought that the Elven world consisted solely of the Eastern and Western Realm. It was a three thousand-year-old deception his father had commanded to continue … until now.

The role of deceiver was foreign to Gregor, and it had not set well with him when his father proposed this mission. The original—and continuing—deception of elves outside the Southern Realm was intentional. The stories, told and retold over the centuries, fostered the belief that only two realms existed. There were, and had been since The Long Wars three thousand years ago,
four
realms. They had been formed from the original Cryptic Realm which had existed since … since before written history. Gregor knew the truth. King Orleon knew the truth. But only the Book of Kings contained the full story of the race of people known as Elven.

Every Southern Realm schoolboy knew the public version of the story. Nearly sixty thousand years of recorded history was taught in the classroom, culminating in The Long Wars—a series of fierce and deadly battles between two brothers, Pandelante and Ovring, vying, upon the death of their father, for the legendary Cryptic Crown. Ovring’s followers scattered around the globe, returning to battle for the throne each time they thought they saw a weakness. Of course, the modern-day deception assured everyone that no such crown had ever existed. That was what was taught, even in the Southern Realm.

The Cryptic Crown, so the legend went, contained mystical powers that bestowed upon he who wore the crown total control over the universe. When King Pandelante had worn the crown, the glory of his kingdom grew almost immediately. The collective power had overwhelmed all who opposed his rule. In the final battle, Ovring was killed and his people banished to the far north, leaving Pandelante the sole ruler in the Southern Realm. The resultant Pandelante dynasty had ruled the Elven kingdom, often with an iron hand, for more than five thousand years.

In the six-thousandth year of the dynasty, Pandelante’s third great-grandson sat upon the throne. He was attacked and overwhelmed by three of the noble families, thereby creating the Southern, Eastern, and Western Realms. The Northern Realm had no actual ruler, but was comprised of the descendants of the original rebels from the Cryptic Realm.

In another three thousand years, disputes between those realms brought each to withdraw from contact with the other. After several generations, fueled by a desire to avoid the Southern Realm which saw itself as superior, only the Eastern and Western Realms maintained contact.

The rulers of the Southern Realm knew the full history, but had avoided all contact until five hundred years earlier, when the dispute between the
Sidhe
Maith
and
Sidhe
Olc
spilled over into the human world. Hearing of the growing dispute and open battle between the Eastern and Western Realms, Gregor’s father, King Orleon, decided it was time to intervene and perhaps to reunite the kingdoms. Gregor’s mission to the Eastern Realm was the result.

As Gregor sat in a familiar spot in front of the Southern Realm portal, he allowed the memories of his homeland to encompass him. After nearly an hour, he sensed Haslane’s approach before he heard or saw him. His younger twin by minutes, Haslane differed from his older brother only in the clothes they wore. Even after years of separation, their hair was cut identically. Gregor turned and faced his brother as he approached, then stopped three feet away. Both men appraised the other, then simultaneously took a step forward into an embrace. Gregor spoke first.

“How I have longed for your counsel, brother. And our parents? They are well?”

Haslane stepped back a couple of paces, turning and sitting on a well-worn rock ledge. Gregor moved to join him. It was familiar territory to both.

“Father is ill, Gregor. The healers have done what they can, but his time is close.”

Instantly angered, Gregor snapped his head around. “Why was I not summoned?”

“Father forbade anyone to call you sooner. I’m sorry, truly. I should have disobeyed, but…”

Gregor’s anger left as quickly as it had come. “And Mother?”

Haslane’s face lit up. “She grieves for Father, but she is well. She awaits your arrival. She is in her chambers … with Camille, preparing for the wedding.”

“The
wedding
?” Gregor asked. “But—” Haslane’s broad smile told him everything Gregor needed to know.

“Much has changed in your absence, brother. With Father’s failing health, Camille and I...” Haslane hesitated momentarily, looking down at the ground. He was the only other person who had known that the betrothal of his brother to Camille had been a private joke. “It seems Camille is destined to marry one of Father’s sons, but not the heir. She shall marry the unworthy, but handsomer prince.”

Gregor instantly pulled Haslane into his arms. “You have fallen in love with the flower of our Realm. The finest woman in the kingdom, but how did she ever see through your shenanigans? How did she see the brother I have always loved?”

“She is brilliant, of course.”

“And I shall have the sister I have always loved.”

“So it seems,” Haslane replied. “We told our parents, and they arranged our marriage quickly before Father … before our father dies.”

“And is that the reason for my summons?” Gregor asked.

“Partly, but Father continues to desire the realms to unite once again. He knows he will not see it in his lifetime, but he desires you to fulfill his dream for one Elven kingdom. He awaits your report.”

“There is war brewing to the north, Haslane,” Gregor stated. “Eastern and Western Elven cannot reach accord. There is conspiracy, treachery, and deception. As we speak, I have hidden the royal families from both realms in the human world.”

“The
human
world—why? How can they be safe without the protection of their realms?”

“They are truly safe nowhere. I have not discovered the traitor, but he is among them somewhere, seeking to overthrow the ruler of the Eastern Realm. He seeks control of the Western Realm as well, but that news can wait.”

He stood and took one final look out over the valley below. “I have missed home, Haslane. I have missed peace. I have missed … everything,” he said, taking his brother by the shoulders and pulling him into another embrace. “But now I will see your bride—my new sister. I could not be happier for the two of you. And I have news of my own,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Haslane tilted his head in question.

“All in good time,” Gregor answered “I believe I shall not be far behind you in choosing my love. I have already met her.”

“Really?” Haslane asked. “And does she know what she’s getting into?” he added with a smile.

“There’s more to it than you know, my brother. She has much to learn yet. She is human—and Elven.”

“Ah,” Haslane nodded. “You have grown bold on your journey.” He stroked his chin and began to laugh. “We shall see how this passes muster with Camille. She is the woman who knows you best. She will know how to handle this situation.”