Shadows of Desire Ch. 03

A gay story: Shadows of Desire Ch. 03 THADEN

There was something happening in Basmorte. Something that wasn’t good. Even the wolves who lived north of Rosegate seemed tense as though they were anticipating trouble.

For decades the vamps had been quiet, keeping to themselves, isolated and shrouded in mystery. Now, there was chatter and rumors spreading as far as Night Port, the cross roads between realms, and Thaden didn’t like it.

He’d sent scouts out to investigate and was nervously awaiting their return. Nasir was the first to return with Selanor right on his heels.

“Report?” Thaden commanded as Nasir entered the Prince’s chambers.

Nasir bowed before him, his dark hair falling over his eyes, one arm draped over his knee, his other hand gripped the hilt of his sword out of habit. He waited for Thaden to signal him to rise before standing and facing the Prince.

“There are rumors coming out of Basmorte that King Desmond’s youngest child, Prince Rowan, has been found dead in his chambers.”

Thaden raised an eyebrow. “Murder?” He asked.

Nasir shook his head. “Apparently suicide. Poison, they think. My sources say that he was being forced into an arranged marriage. One that he didn’t agree with. I suppose he thought death was his only way out.”

“Hm.” Thaden crossed his arms then walked over to stand in front of the hearth, warming himself by the fire, as he thought about what this news could mean for Rosegate. “I don’t know much about Prince Rowan.” He stated, still studying the fire. “Just that he was young, barely nineteen, and that the vamp King kept him fairly isolated.”

“Rumor has it, he was also an omega.” Selanor spoke up.

Nasir scoffed. “Impossible. There are no omegas within the vamp realm. Their genders are strictly male and female.”

“There haven’t been for nearly a century.” Thaden corrected. “The last one was a blood born. A human omega turned vamp by his high born lover. They were both executed though, and there hasn’t been another since.”

“Not until Prince Rowan.” Selanor interjected. “If the rumors are true.”

Thaden sighed. “And so another innocent omega lost to the cruelty of vampires.”

“He can hardly be considered innocent.” Nasir narrowed his eyes hatefully. “He was a vampire after all.”

“He was a boy.” Thaden stated, flatly. “No matter what his parentage, he was a boy that barely got the chance to live. Such a waste.”

Betrayal

King Desmond was furious. “How dare he?” He shouted at the poor servant who had the great misfortune of informing the King that his only son was found dead, in his bed, apparently having taken his own life. “How dare that insolent little bastard humiliate me this way?” He slammed his fist down on the hard oak dinning room table so hard that a deep crack splintered and snaked along the center of the table. “I should have had the brat guarded until his wedding night!” He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed in frustration.

Lady Caroline tried to hide her smile as she glanced towards her daughter and a knowing look passed between the two. Emilia smirked as she cut into the slice of ham on her plate. This was just the news she’d been waiting to hear.

“I suppose you’ll have one of the servants take word of the Prince’s demise to Lord Killian?” Lady Caroline asked as she took a sip of the blood wine next to her plate. “I’m sure he’ll be most devastated by the news.”

“No, I should deliver the news in person.” The King growled. “I’m sure he’ll want compensation for the loss.” Rage flashed in his eyes at the thought of having to pay anything for an omega who, in his eyes, held no value at all.

“Perhaps some good will come from this tragedy.” Lady Caroline was quick to try and quell the King’s anger.

“What good could possibly come of this?” The King hissed. “I had a deal with Lord Killian. Now because of my coward of a son, that deal has been broken and I am back to having no heir!”

“Well,” Lady Caroline sat her wine glass down as her mouth twisted into a sinister grin. “That part can be taken care of as soon as we wed. I, my love, will provide you with many sons. But, as far as your deal with Lord Killian, I have a solution to that as well. Lady Emilia is available and quite smitten with the Duke. She will make an adequate replacement and, if I may, your Majesty, a much more suitable bride. He should have chosen her in the first place but, I’m willing to forgive his poor judgment. Once they are married.”

The King narrowed his eyes as he glared at his fiance. “Devious and shrewd as always my dear. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you had orchestrated this entire debacle just to ensure your daughter’s marriage to the Duke.”

Lady Caroline chuckled. “You flatter me, my love. But no. I would never go against your decree. I am simply trying to find the silver lining in all this. Lord Killian and Emilia would be a perfect match and would solve your problem of having to compensate the Duke financially.”

“Are you positive that this isn’t some scheme to ensure your daughter becomes Queen? Because, if it is, let me assure you, my Lady, that will never happen. Only my blood will assume the throne when I am gone and as I have many centuries left in me, I will no doubt find a wife who will produce a male heir. Whether that is you or not remains to be seen.”

Lady Caroline pressed her lips into a straight, thin line. Her fist clenched around the handle of the knife she held and her blood began to boil. You will not live long enough to see your heir born. She thought. Of that I will make sure.

“Of course not, my love.” She forced a smile as she attempted to compose herself. “I was merely suggesting a solution. It is up to you if you take my advice or not.”

The King nervously stroked his beard as he thought over the predicament he was in. “I’ll take it under advisement.” He said finally, returning to his seat. He stared at the food in front of him, no longer having much of an appetite. His conversation with Lord Killian was not going to be a pleasant one and he loathed the idea of having to pay the man anything. The Duke already had more lands than any other noble in Basmorte and more wealth than he knew what to do with.

The King drummed his fingers on the table top. He was in a precarious position. It was no secret that what Lord Killian craved more than wealth was power. That was why he was so eager to wed Rowan. It would ensure his place within the royal family, something he’d sought after for years but was never able to attain. When word came to the King that Lord Killian was beginning to grow his personal guard into a small army, King Desmond became concerned. His own army was vast and could easily overpower Killian’s guard but that wasn’t what worried him.

Killian had begun to gain favor with the nobles and already had a few of the most powerful families in Basmorte in his back pocket. His influence and power over the Kingdom was beginning to grow from just being a slight inconvenience to a potential threat. If he managed to sway the gentry as well as the peasantry his way, well, there could be a full scale rebellion in the works. The union of Lord Killian and Prince Rowan was meant to ally the two houses as well as allow King Desmond to keep an eye on the Duke. It seemed the King’s plan had now died with Rowan, leaving him vulnerable again.

Still, perhaps Caroline was right. Emilia wasn’t his blood but she would become his step-daughter once he and Lady Caroline were wed and King Desmond could officially give her the title of Princess if he so desired. It infuriated him to think of that spoiled and entitled little wench calling herself royalty but what was worse? Indulging her fantasies a little or giving Lord Killian cause to rally his forces and lead an insurrection? No, Desmond couldn’t allow that. He did not have the forces nor the finances to survive a war with the nobles. If peace meant sacrificing Emilia to the Duke then Desmond would offer her up on a silver platter. At least, he thought, It would get the little bitch out of my hair.

***

After the morning meal was concluded, Lady Caroline and Lady Emilia retired to Caroline’s sitting room. Once there, she dismissed the servants and locked the door.

Emilia dropped herself down in one of her mother’s cushioned arm chairs and giggled like a silly school girl. “I still can’t believe the little fool actually trusted that I wanted to help him.”

“Yes.” Lady Caroline smiled with pride as she stroked the side of Emilia’s face. “You can be quite persuasive when you want to be, my dear. Even I’ll admit, I was skeptical that the plan would work. I was almost certain that the Prince would see through the ruse and alert the King.”

That was her biggest fear. If the King discovered her treachery, what would he have done to her? The Prince’s death had to look like suicide, there was no other way. If he had discovered that the vile he’d been given was, in fact, poison and had gone to the King then Lady Caroline as well as Emilia would have been executed. No matter how the King felt about his son, the murder of a Prince was an offense punishable by death.

“You’re plan was perfect, mother.” Emilia squealed in delight. “Now that the little bitch is gone, there is nothing that will stand in my way. I will be married to the Duke before the month is out.”

“Do not get ahead of yourself.” Lady Caroline warned as she sat in her chair near the fire. She brushed a stray hair away from her face then laid her arm over the arm rest. “First we have to convince the Duke that it would be in his best interest to marry you which, I don’t think will be that difficult. What with all of your charms and attributes.”

“Oh I think I can convince him.” Lady Emilia cocked an eyebrow as a sinful smirk played across her crimson lips. “I have just the thing to encourage him.” She said, placing a hand against her abdomen. “He won’t refuse me when he learns of my delicate condition.”

Caroline’s eyes lit up and she grinned wickedly. “Why, my sweet child, you are a cunning little vixen, aren’t you?”

“My mother taught me well.” She laughed.

“I’m glad to see that all my lessons paid off.” Lady Caroline nodded. “That bastard Prince never stood a chance. Killian was always meant to be yours.”

“Indeed.” Emilia looked to the flickering flames burning brightly beside her. “And, I will always go after what is rightfully mine. Always.”

Sacrifice

Rowan had been dressed in his bridal suit. His hair neatly brushed and a circular reef of golden leaves placed on his head. His hands were folded and placed on his chest with a white lily held between his fingers. His head rested on a white satin pillow and a white shroud was placed over him. He looked serene, peaceful…merely sleeping.

King Desmond stood before the coffin where his son lay but the look on his face was not of sorrow or grief, as one would expect from a grieving father, but of anger and hate. He glared at the servants who had gathered around the sleeping Prince, daring them to utter a single sound. Not a tear was shed for fear the King would punish any who did.

Lady Caroline stood next to the King, looking complacent as she looked over the body. Emilia stood to her mother’s left, near Lord Killian who stood, brooding, as he looked upon his fiance with a pensive stare. His eyes narrowed and he balled his hands into two tight fists as he clenched his jaw.

Emilia hooked her arm through his and leaned into him but Killian immediately pulled back, glaring at her angrily. “I would advise you to keep your hands off me, my Lady. Lest you wish to lose an arm.” He sneered.

“My Lord?” She looked up at him, her expression pained. “I meant only to comfort you, My Lord.”

“Comfort me?” He challenged. “Do not think for one moment that I believe you actually care.”

“Oh, but I do.” She insisted. “I care deeply. I can only imagine what pain you must feel right now. Your suffering must be great.”

“I am sure, my Lady, that my suffering is your greatest pleasure.”

Emilia frowned, leaning her head against Killian’s arm. “Why would you say such a thing, my Lord. My greatest pleasure has always been your happiness.”

“If you expect me to believe that, then you must think me a fool.” He growled.

“No, but I do think that you mourn the loss of a foolish child who never loved you.”

“He loved me no more than I loved him.” Lord Killian scoffed. He pushed Emilia away from him then slowly stepped forward, leaning over the coffin as he sighed. “But, there is no doubt that his presence in my life would have enriched my existence.”

Lady Emilia pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes. “What could he have possibly provided you with that I can not?” She hissed.

Lord Killian traced a finger along Rowan’s cheek now cold and devoid of life. He turned and looked at Lady Emilia with an expression so tragic that for a brief moment she swore she saw actual tears in his eyes. “A soul, my Lady. A breath of humanity lost to our kind through centuries of cold, endless, decay. That spark of life that we seek each time we feed on the living. He had that. I have no idea how, but he had it and it shone brighter in him than in the brightest sun. Whether it was his youth, his kindness, his passion, or some other mysterious virtue which I could never hope to understand, whatever it was, I craved it. Craved it to the point of obsession.”

Killian allowed his fingers to trail along the edge of the coffin as he moved away from it’s side. He focused his eyes on Emilia, taking in her visage, stopping to stare into her eyes. His stare bore into her as though he were looking past her eyes and seeing what lay beneath them. “You are beautiful, my Lady, but it’s all glamour. Behind the fair skin, raven hair, and icy blue eyes is a black void lacking in anything pure or good. With him, it wasn’t so. His beauty transcended the flesh as he breathed life into everything around him. But you, Lady Emilia, are rotten from the inside. A festering husk of filth and putridness. You will never compare to him, my Lady. You would simply burn to ash in his light.”

Killian brushed past her leaving the cathedral as well as the others behind. He couldn’t stay a moment longer, not even to watch the internment. There was something, something painful that ripped through the still heart in his chest. It felt like a vise squeezing and twisting his insides till he felt he might collapse and die from the agony he felt. He wasn’t vain enough to believe that he actually loved Rowan but the regret that he felt was just as strong. Regret, grief, rage…whatever it was he was feeling, it was ripping him apart inside.

He quickly fled into an empty chamber within the church and when he was sure that he was alone, he fell to his knees and wailed, slamming his fists into the floor over and over again until his hands were bloodied and raw. “Damn you!” He cried out, suddenly falling to the floor, hugging himself as he curled up on his side. “Damn you all to hell!”

***

Folen stood at the side of the coffin looking down, the soft glow of candlelight cast flickering shadows on Rowan’s face, giving an ethereal quality to his stillness. As the priest opened the cathedral to the nobles inhabiting the kingdom, small groups mourners approached, one by one, their steps heavy with grief. Some carried fragrant bouquets of roses, their vibrant colors contrasting with the solemn atmosphere. The room was permeated with the scent of flowers and the unmistakable aroma of sorrow.

Each man and woman giving their deepest condolences to the hardened King, their hearts heavy with the weight of the loss of a Prince they barely knew. The loss of life was never an easy thing to bear but the death of one so young was even more tragic. Folen was closest to him but she shed no tears as she leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Sleep, little one.” She whispered, a hint of a smile on her pale lips. “Dream sweet dreams and sleep. When next you wake, this will all have been but a distant memory and your life will begin anew.”

Outside, rain began to fall, its gentle patter against the windows seeming to echo the collective sorrow within the room. As the mourners paid their respects, Rowan’s presence remained palpable, reminding them of the fragility and preciousness of life. The mourners took the opportunity to say their final farewells to Rowan, their tears mingling with the rain and they whispered silent prayers to Sheul, the vampire God, that Rowan find his place in the moonlit gardens of Sheowan and earn his eternal rest.

The mourners stepped back, making way as the lid to the coffin was put in place and nailed down before being lifted up and carried to the royal tomb where Rowan would join his ancestors. Folen stood by, watching as the door to the tomb was closed and sealed, the gate enclosing it locked. King Desmond turned and left as soon as he heard the metal clang of the gate slide into place. His part done. He had laid to rest his second son though Rowan did not get the same farewell that his older brother had. King Desmond felt no love, no remorse, and no grief over Rowan’s death.

He felt nothing. To him, it was as if the boy had simply never existed at all.

Awakening

The moon shone brightly in the dark sky. The beautiful, round, fullness of the moon casting an iridescent glow on the ground below. It was midnight. The wolves ran the forests, howling their cries of freedom and glee as they did what wolves were meant to do. Their power at it’s peak. This was their time. The night belonged to the packs, to the children of the moon.

Not a vampire was in sight. The shops closed, the streets empty as everyone, man, woman, and child had returned safely to their homes. The only ones out were sentry’s and guards posted at look out towers throughout the city. The wolves haven’t attacked in decades but King Desmond took no chances. Not on a full moon. Not when the line between man and beast was hazy at best. If any vampire were found too close to the Wolfhaven boarder they would be killed on sight, ripped to shreds and left to bleed out, no hope of regenerating.

It was the perfect night for wolves, for tricksters, and Aos Si–the people of the mounds. The perfect time for fairy magic and for raising the dead. Under the shadow of night, Folen crept towards the tomb where Rowan slept. She touched the lock on the grate and watched as it opened, falling to the earth. Slowly, she slid the gate open and stepped inside. The door to the tomb would be harder to move. Her magic unsealed it easily but it was too heavy for her to move alone.

She waited only a moment before she saw movent to her right. The shadows parted and a man slowly stepped out to stand beside her. “Took ye long enough, Bhalor.” She frowned. “Ye were suppose to meet me here at midnight.”

“My apologies, my Lady.” Bhalor removed the hood from his head and knelt down on one knee before her. “I had a little trouble getting past a sentry near the east wall.”

Folen understood at once. Even with his concealing magic, Bhalor was a beast of a man. Standing nearly 7 feet with brawn that matched. His massive frame was hidden beneath a brown cloak but even with his magic, he was bulky and somewhat clumsy. He made too much noise tromping around with his massive boots.

She sniffed the air around him and grimaced. “No wonder.” She groused. “Ya didn’t conceal yer scent ya big oaf. Ya smell like swamp weed and muskgrass.”

Bhalor lifted one monstrous arm and sniffed. “Good for wardin off vamps.” He said with a grin.

Folen rolled her eyes. “Just move this bloody door.”

“Right away, madam.” His deep voice boomed in the darkness. Folen chided him for being too loud.

Folen stepped to the side as Bhalor moved to the door, looking it over for a second before grabbing it in both his massive hands and effortlessly pulled it open. Folen pushed him aside and entered the crypt, Bhalor following closely behind. Standing next to Rowan’s coffin, Folen motioned for Bhalor to remove the lid.

Taking hold of the wooden lid, Bhalor ripped it from the nails holding it in place. The lid splintered then cracked in half. He tossed it carelessly to the side, earning him another frustrated glance from Folen. “These vamps have sensitive hearing.” She snapped. “Could ye, possibly, try and not alert the whole guard that we are here?”

Bhalor shrugged. “Ya dinna employ me fer me gentleness, madam.”

“Just stand watch at the door.” She sighed.

Bhalor did as instructed and stood near the door, ready to fight anyone who might come through it.

Folen looked down at the sleeping Rowan laying against the white silk sheet spread out beneath him. She removed the shroud covering his face and laid a hand gently against his cheek. “I’ve come for ya, Lad. Just as I promised.” She reached into her robes and took out a smile vile with a glowing blue liquid inside. Removing the cork from the vile, she held the vile high so that the light of the full moon seeping through the tombs only window illuminated the vile causing the liquid within to glow brighter.

“Téann uisce drúcht na gealaí i dteagmháil le do bheola agus éireoidh sé as an nua.” She chanted in a whisper. Slowly, she brought the vile down and after using her free hand to part Rowan’s lips, she poured the contents of the vile into his mouth.

Bhalor held his breath and waited. Folen gripped the sides of the coffin, watching Rowan’s face for any change.

“It’s been too long.” Bhalor whispered, his voice nervous and full of worry. “Ya waited to long, I tell ya.”

“Hush now.” Folen scowled at him. “It’ll work. Trust me.”

The minutes ticked by and still they waited, the apprehension growing. Folen tapped her fingers on the side of the coffin as she glanced at the door again and again, fearing any moment that they could be caught. Then, when she was about to give up hope, she heard a small gasp coming from within the coffin.

She watched as a single finger twitched. Her breath hitched, then his hand jerked. His chest began to heave and fall and he let out a labored breath.

“Thought vamps didn’t breath.” Bhalor said, narrowing his eyes.

“This one’s special.” She whispered.

“Special, how?”

“Shh.” Folen held up a hand to him. “Quiet now, he’s wakin’ up.”

The tomb was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. The only sound that could be heard were the soft intakes of breath Rowan took as he emerged from his death like slumber. Slowly, he opened his eyes and with Folen’s help, managed to sit up enough to look around at his surroundings.

Everything seemed so strange. He blinked then rubbed his eyes. He saw Folen standing beside him, smiling down at him. For a brief moment it appeared as though her red hair was ablaze. As his eyes adjusted the illusion of flames faded and she was just Folen again. The Folen that he knew and loved.

Confusion overwhelmed him as he tried to remember what had happened. Last he knew he was in his room, laying on his bed, when he began to feel tired. More tired than he’d ever felt in his entire life. He lay his head against his pillow and thought, I’ll just rest here. Just a while. As soon as he closed his eyes though the black oblivion of sleep overtook him and he fell into a deep, uninterrupted, slumber.

How long had he slept? He wondered. This place, this was not his room, and he was not in his bed. As his fingers slid along the smooth wood surface of the coffin he realized immediately where he was.

“I’m in a tomb?” He asked, confused. “Am I dead?”

“No, love.” Folen told him. “You’ve been asleep is all. But, yer awake now.”

“He doesn’t remember what happened?”

“It’s the potion.” Folen said, speaking to another person in the room. “His memory will return soon. Give it time.”

Rowan looked up. He didn’t recognize the other voice. It was deep, masculine, and a bit intimidating. It had a rough, strong brogue to it, not the smooth, silky, and melodic tone of a vampire. His eyes moved around the room, slowly adjusting to the darkness until he caught sight of a figure standing near the opened doorway and he gasped.

The man was huge, towering over Folen. He was so tall that he had to lean over as to not hit his head on the ceiling. He had long brown hair and a busy brown beard though the ends of it were so red they could have been on fire. The man was dressed in dark browns and greens, earth tones and his clothes and body were covered by twigs, vines, and moss. He also had a very pungent odor that reeked of mustiness, dirt, and garlic.

The most unsettling thing about this man though were his eyes. His eyes were like two, red, glowing orbs of fire with a tiny, black pupil set in the center of the burning pools of light. Rowan let out a small squeak then placed his hand over his heart and scooted back against the head of the coffin, away from the fierce-some looking man.

Bhalor laughed a loud, booming laugh. “Look at that.” He chuckled. “A vamp, feared a’ me. Who’d a ever thought that?”

“Oh, quiet up, you great buffoon.” Folen narrowed her eyes. “The child ain’t never seen the likes a you a’fore. How’s he supposed to react?”

“W-what is he?” Rowan pointed to the monstrous man before him.

“Fathach portaigh si.” Folen answered, as if Rowan was supposed to know what that meant.

“A-a what?”

Bhalor rolled his eyes. “Bog giant.” He explained. “People of the bog.”

Rowan looked between Folen and Bhalor. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to make sense of what he was just told. “You’re…you’re a Fae?”

Again Bhalor laughed. “Never heard anyone call me a Fae a’fore but sure, yeah. But don’tcha be thinking I flit around with wings like pixies or sprites. Not all of us ‘Fae’ are harmless little bugs.” He took a step closer and Rowan cringed. “Some of us are monsters.” He growled and Rowan yelped.

“Bhalor!” Folen suddenly yelled at her companion. “We’re here to rescue this child, not scare ’em to death!”

Bhalor bowed, apologizing to Folen and Rowan both. “Just ‘aving a bit o’ fun with the Lad.” He chuckled. “Can’t fault me for that.”

“I can when yer job here is to protect ’em.” She glared. “Now Help him outta this box so we can get underway, before some vamp spots us and alerts the guard.”

***

Rowan tensed as the man called Bhalor carefully lifted him out of the coffin and stood him on the floor of the tomb. Bhalor was surprisingly tender with the boy despite his massive size. Still, the very presence of him felt intimidating to Rowan. He’d never been in the presence of a creature like him before. Most vampires were elegant, with an uncanny beauty and an aura of mystery. This man though, with his thick, broad, chest, and hulking muscles was barbaric in appearance and yet, Rowan couldn’t help but feel safe in his presence.

He wasn’t soft and nurturing the way Folen was. This man was strong and powerful. But the way he took such care with Rowan told him that the man had a gentler side to him as well. Rowan smiled. A gentle giant. That’s what he was. Folen touched his shoulder and he felt a wave of ease wash over him.

“It’s alright, Lad.” She assured him. “Bhalor may look like a brute but he’s a teddy bear, really.”

Rowan nodded and he started to relax. These people weren’t here to harm him, they were his salvation. If there was anyone within the Kingdom he could trust, it was Folen and Folen wouldn’t entrust Rowan to anyone she thought would hurt him.

Taking Folen’s outstretched hand, Rowan allowed the two to lead him from the tomb and out into the cool night air.

***

The howl of a wolf cut through the air making Rowan shiver. “W-what was that?” He asked, nervously.

“Just a were.” Folen answered, seemingly not concerned.

“As in, a werewolf?” Rowan stared at her, eyes wide in shock and terror.

“Aye, Lad. But no need to be concerned. They don’t attack Fae.”

“Yeah, but they do attack vampires.” Rowan cringed, moving closer to Folen’s side.

Bhalor chuckled. “Yer with us boi.” He said in the husky voice that Rowan was becoming more accustomed to now. “Ain’t no were gonna attack us, child.”

“Okay.” Rowan nodded, still shaking. “I trust you.” He glanced around the empty streets as they moved along the side of the tomb, inching their way along the wall. “They won’t come into the city though, right?”

“Nay.” Folen told him. “And there are guards posted to make sure none cross the border.”

“Good.” Rowan breathed a breath of relief. He was safe, for now. It was when they reached the city’s border that worried him most though. Once they were past the safety of the city walls, what would stop any of the creatures beyond the gates of Basmorte from attacking him? Vampires had the most enemies of all the other species and being the son of the vampire King made Rowan a target.

“Everyone thinks yer dead.” Folen reminded him, as though reading his mind. “I’m sure word has already spread to the other realms. Just keep her head down and yer mouth shut and ye should be safe.”

“Old King Desmond’s kept the boi so isolated I’d be surprised if anyone even recognized him anyway.” Bhalor cut in. “He ain’t got a face known to many. Probably why the King kept him hidden away like e’ did.”

Rowan sighed. “My father kept me hidden away because he was ashamed of me.” He told the giant man. “If it weren’t for the council, he would have thrown me to the wolves himself. Literally. The man hates me…hated me.” He corrected himself suddenly realizing that his father too thought he was dead. A small smile played across his lips. Everyone in Basmorte thought he was dead. Probably the neighboring realms as well.

He should have been sad about that but he wasn’t. In fact, he couldn’t be happier. Not only was he out from under his father’s rule but now he would no longer be associated with his father’s tyranny. He was finally free, and freedom tasted sweeter than he had ever expected. The only thing worried him now was what was going to happen once they left the vampire realm. Rowan had never been away from Basmorte. How was he going to survive on his own, alone in a strange world? He sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He’d worry about that bridge when they crossed it. For now, his main concern was escaping the city undetected.

Bhalor took the lead, stopping at the end of their path to look down the road, checking for sentry’s on patrol. When he was sure it was clear, he motioned for the others to follow. They quickly ran across the street to a darkened ally between two tall buildings. They pressed themselves up against the brick wall of what smelled like a tavern to Rowan. Looking up, he saw candle light flicking in a few of the windows above them but the tavern itself seemed quiet and empty. The people hidden inside against the possible threat of an attack from the wolves in the surrounding forests.

Rowan had always wanted to walk the city streets, to see the inhabitants of his father’s kingdom going about their nightly tasks. He would have loved to have spent the night in an inn or tasted the ale in one of the local taverns. He would never get that chance though but he tried not to let it bother him. He had the rest of his life to experience the things he’d always dreamed of. He could picture himself, living in a tiny cottage somewhere. He’d have a small garden, maybe some chickens. No horses. He hated horses. But, maybe he could even have a pet cat. He loved cats though his father had never allowed him one. Yes, he would definitely get a cat.

It would be a different sort of life. No more servants. He’d have to learn to hunt, and he’d have to cook for himself, grow his own foods, and be self sufficient but he could do it. He’d be proud to do it. Proud to prove that he could take care of himself. he was an omega after all and things like cooking and cleaning or tending a garden should come natural to him. Omega’s were known to be excellent home makers, nurturing and caring. And, even though he’d never really been allowed to lift a finger for himself, Rowan had no doubt that he could eventually learn the skills he needed to survive. He’d try at least. He owed himself that much. He wasn’t as useless as his father had thought and one way or another, he’d prove the old man wrong.

The trio ducked in and out of ally ways, hiding between the buildings until they came to a row of houses on the poorer side of the city. The run down shacks were smaller, some of them falling apart, and there was an awful odor of trash and rot mixed with the stench of sewage. Rowan held a hand over his nose as they walked past a small stable. Rowan jumped as a horse inside the stable neighed and shuffled around, probably sensing his presence.

“Quiet beast.” Bhalor growled at the animal when the horse stuck it’s head out of a stall door and huffed. “Don’t know what’s got ’em so worked up. Not like he ain’t seen a vamp before.”

“The boi’s scent is unfamiliar.” Folen explained. “The horse don’t recognize it and it’s makin’ ’em nervous.”

Bhalor leaned towards Rowan and sniffed him. “He smells like a vamp to me.”

“Then yer senses are off, ya clout. Too much swamp rot in yer nose.”

Bhalor shrugged then took another whiff. “Maybe, something’s different, like something floral. Just figured it was him being an omega. Never smelt one of them before.”

Rowan blushed listening to the two discussing his scent. No one’s ever said that he smelled like anything but a vampire so it was news to him. He pulled the black cloak that Folen had given him closer around his body, hiding into it. Bhalor smirked, watching him.

“Yer making ‘im uncomfortable.” Folen sneered, her protective nature taking over as she pulled Rowan closer to her. “Dinna anyone ever teach ya how to act around royalty? Don’t be so disrespectful.”

“It’s fine.” Rowan tried to protest, looking down at the ground, feeling flushed and embarrassed. “I’m just not used to people…taking an interest. I’ve been mostly ignored most of my life.”

Folen gave him a soft pat on the shoulder and smiled at him. “You’ll be grateful for that now.” She told him. “Easier to hide that way.”

Rowan nodded. He supposed that was true. Once he left Basmorte he would no longer be Rowan Rochfort, son of the feared vampire King. He’d have to choose a new identity for himself. Become a new man. He only saw one problem with that though. How could he hide who he truly was without isolating himself from the rest of the world? He was, as far as he knew, the only omega vampire in existence. He felt all his hopes of a happy and fulfilling life suddenly dashed. In order to keep his true identity a secret, he’d have to spend the rest of his life alone.

Moving through the city undetected was easy compared to trying to get past the sentry’s guarding the east gate. The houses thinned out leaving less places to hide.

“Stick to the shadows like I taught ya.” Folen whispered.

“Can’t he shape shift or something?” Bhalor asked. “Would be easier to sneak ‘im out.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes at the man. “I’m nineteen years old.” He grumbled. “It takes centuries to master that skill.”

Bhalor shrugged. “Don’t spend enough time around vamps to know that.”

“Quiet.” Folen frowned. “As soon as that guard leaves the tower to patrol, we got ten minutes before he returns.” She pointed to the guard standing at the top of the tower towards the edge of the forest, a cross bow in his hands ready to shoot at anything that tried to breach the perimeter.

Bhalor nodded, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. At once the shadows swirled around, concealing him in darkness. Rowan watched in amazement as the man disappeared. He could still hear his heavy breathing and smell the scent of moss that clung to the man but he couldn’t see him. Folen nodded to Rowan and told him to pull up his hood as well then he and she both melted into the shadows.

Once the guard was out of sight, Folen grabbed Rowan’s hand and the three of them made a dash across the field to a dilapidated barn about three hundred feet from their current location. The sprint was easy for Rowan given his natural speed. It was also quite thrilling as he’d never really been allowed to run like that before. The open air and the wind whipping past was exhilarating. It was an odd feeling that the most fun he’d ever had was in doing something so dangerous as fleeing the place he’d once called home. The danger seemed but a fleeting thought in his mind as he ran towards freedom. He’d remember this moment for the rest of his life.

Folen had no trouble keeping pace with Rowan. Even Bhalor with his immense size seemed to move with ease. Rowan had no idea that Fae could move at such speeds but then again, he had no idea that he could either. He knew vampire’s were fast. Faster than humans. The only beings he knew that could match the speed of a vampire were wolves and dragons. But still, having never had the chance to test his skill personally, he’d never dreamed that he could move so quickly, and so fluidly through the darkness, watching the world flash by in a blur. It was like flying.

There were so many things that he had never been allowed to do, so many experiences lost on him. But now he at least knew that he was capable of so much more than he’d even realized. With this realization brought a touch of anger as he realized just how much his father had taken from him in not allowing him to hone his skills. So much training missed out on, a meager education not near enough to prepare him for life outside the palace walls. Had his father meant to keep him locked away forever, dependent on others for his entire life? Probably.

As his father had told him many times before, an omega was worthless without a mate. His only use was in spreading his legs for whoever his father had chosen as a spouse for him.

“Your only place in life is to bear young and look pretty.” His father had once told him. “So, pray to the Gods that you can bear strong sons for your future husband because as looks go, you’re nothing special. You’ll be lucky if I can even find someone willing to take you as a mate.”

Of course that someone had been Lord Killian. Rowan sneered at the thought. His father knew the kind of man he was. He had to have. And yet, he was willing to give him his only son just to be rid of him. He never cared if Rowan was happy, he didn’t worry if he’d be safe, or treated well. He probably knew that Rowan would be abused and forced to bear the Lord countless offspring until his womb gave out rendering Rowan useless to his husband but Desmond didn’t care.

He never cared. From the moment Rowan was born his father had rejected him and that was the one thing that hurt the most. He never had his father’s love. Just because he was born an omega. He’d been rejected and his mother had been rejected, forced to leave the palace and live in shame. That rejection was what had killed his mother. He was certain of it now. She, like him, had only wanted the King’s love and when it was denied her, she fell into deep despair and lost the will to live. Rowan began to wonder if the man was even capable of love or if he was simply the monster that everyone seemed to think he was.

They had reached the barn in no time flat and once inside the three of them removed their hoods, breaking the illusion. Rowan at once saw a horse and cart waiting for them. The horse reared up, nervously, as Rowan came near it.

“Whoa, easy gal.” Bhalor said, stroking the horses mane to comfort her. “He’s a vamp but he ain’t no threat to ya.” Once Bhalor calmed the mare, he climbed up onto the wooden bench of the cart. “Best hurry.” He nodded to Folen.

Folen turned to Rowan and smiled a sad smile as she looked at him with tears in her eyes. “This is where I leave ya, child. But yer in good hands.”

Rowan shook his head, his own tears falling now. “No, please. Come with us. I can’t bear the thought of leaving you here, unprotected.”

Folen touched his face. “Sweet boi, you need not fear for me. I’ll be fine. But nay, child. I can’t leave. Not when my children need me.”

Rowan looked confused. “You have children? You never told me. Where are they?”

“All Fae are my children.” She told him. “And while there are so many held captive here, in need of my help, I can’t leave. One day, I hope to free them all but now, I help those I can when I can. One freed Fae is worth more than my own freedom.”

Rowan looked down, suddenly ashamed. “And yet you saved me. A vampire. The son of your enemy. The son of the man who enslaves your kind and yet, you have been so loving to me. I do not deserve your love.”

Folen’s smile faded as she stared at Rowan with an intensity that frightened him. “Now, you listen to me Rowan Morgan Rochfort,” for the first time Rowan can remember Folen used his full name. “You are not yer father and you are not responsible for the evils that he has done. And yes, ya may be of vampire blood but ye, child, are so much more than that. In time, ya will come to understand yer true worth and yer true purpose in this world. For now, though, that is all I can tell ya, but for this. I have loved ya since the day ya was born and will continue to love ya until I draw me last breath and ye, my child, are worthy of every bit of my love. Never, ever forget that. You, are so loved.”

Rowan suddenly reached out and drew Folen into a tight embrace, sobbing against her wild, red hair. “I love you…mother.” He whispered through his tears. “I hope to God one day we meet again.”

“Aye, child. We shall.” She hugged him back then gently kissed his cheek. “Now, I’m sorry fer this, but tis necessary.” She reached into the bag that hung from her belt and pulling out a glob of something that looked like black mud and smelled like dung, quickly, she smeared it across Rowan’s face while reciting something in a language that Rowan had never heard.

At once the substance on his face began to burn. Rowan cringed from the pain but it quickly subsided as his face began to grow taunt, the skin tightened and became hard and rough. His hands twisted, fingers grew long, resembling claws and his skin turned into something that was more like tree bark than flesh. His hair, once long and black became green like moss.

“The effects won’t last long.” Folen told him. “Maybe an hour. But it’s long enough to get ya past the guards at the gate.” She then covered him in a cloak made of lichen and grass. It was heavy and smelled musty. Rowan sniffed it then scrunched his nose and gagged.

Bhalor laughed. “Smells bad but will cover that vamp stench ya got.”

“Thanks.” Rowan groaned, not sure if he should be offended or not. He climbed up onto the cart and sat beside Bhalor and for the first time in his life, he didn’t scare the wits out of the horse.

“Good luck, Lad.” Folen told him. “Now remember, keep your head down and let Bhalor do that talkin’.”

Rowan nodded. “Do you really think I can do this?” He asked, unsure of himself. “I’ve never been on my own before.”

Folen smiled at him. “I know ye kin do it, love. I have faith in ya. Ye just need to have faith in yerself.”

Rowan smiled. “Thank you, for everything. I owe you my life.”

“No need to thank me, yer Highness. It was a pleasure to serve ya all these years.” And then, for the first time ever, Folen bowed in reverence to the Prince before her.

“Goodbye.” Rowan said with a tear in his eye. “Until we meet again.”

“Farewell, Child.” She said, then, turning to Bhalor. “You keep ‘im safe.”

Bhalor nodded before taking up the reigns and ordering the mare to go. Rowan held onto the side of the cart as it jerked forward and a moment later, they were free of the barn and driving towards the east gate, leaving Basmorte and all that Rowan had ever known, behind them.

Fear

Vampire’s weren’t supposed to have a heart beat. Their hearts were dead, useless organs, only quickened by the taking of human life. That moment when the blood passes the lips and the monster connects on a physical level with their victim, only when they feel the fear induced pounding of their victims heart does the vampire feel the brief flutter of their own. So, why then, did Rowan feel his own heart beating furiously in his chest the closer they got to the gate and the guard that stood there watching them approach?

Bhalor drew the horse to a slow halt as the guard walked up to him, demanding he stop. Rowan held his breath as the guard looked over towards him, regarding him with suspicion.

“What is your business here?” The guard demanded, angrily. “The gate is closed for the night.”

“Took a bit longer cleaning out the King’s stables.” Bhalor explained with a soft chuckle. “A lot of refuse to clean up from the hunt. We were just heading home.”

The guard looked from Bhalor to Rowan then nodded. “Who’s that?” He asked.

“Just my son.” Bhalor lied.

“Kind of small for a bog giant isn’t he?”

Bhalor shrugged. “His mother’s a Dryad.”

The guard walked around the cart to where Rowan sat. Rowan sucked in a deep breath as he tried to steady his nerves. He didn’t dare to lift his head, even when the guard spoke to him.

“What’s your name boy?” The guard barked.

“He don’t speak none, Sir.” Bhalor told him. “Had ‘is tongue cut fer sassin’ the stable master few years back.”

“Serves him right.” The guard huffed as he looked him over. Rowan narrowed his eyes but held back the desire to tell the guard off.

Bhalor smirked. “He was always openin’ ‘is mouth when he shouldn’t ‘a been. I tol’ ‘im one of these days he was gonna spout off to the wrong person. Seems I were right. Damn kids always had an attitude.”

Rowan turned his head and glared at Bhalor but Bhalor only laughed as he gave Rowan a quick wink. “Guess he won’t be smartin’ off to no one no more.”

The guard took a step closer, sniffed Rowan then hastily stood back, scrunching his nose in disgust. “He smells like horse shit.” The guard growled.

“He been mucking out the stables.” Bhalor shrugged. “Whatdd’ya expect?”

“Revolting things.” The guard hissed between clenched teeth.

Bhalor sighed. “Might we go now, Sir? The wife’s making toadstool stew with serpent scales and leeches. Sure don’t want to miss that. It’s the boys favorite.”

Rowan held back a gag as Bhalor chuckled, clearly amused at his discomfort.

The guard nodded then waved them ahead. “Go on.” He growled before turning around and yelling, “Raise the gate!”

“Thanks much.” Bhalor smiled and waved at the man before taking up the reins once more and urging the old mare forward.

The gate lowered again behind them and Rowan let out the breath he’d been holding then he turned to Bhalor and asked with a scowl, “Toadstool stew with leeches?”

Bhalor chuckled. “Damn fine meal, Lad. Don’t knock it till ya tried it.”

“Thanks.” Rowan swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise up his throat. “I think I’ll pass.”

***

Rowan fought to keep his eyes open. Once, he nearly fell off the cart because he’d fallen asleep but Bhalor had luckily grabbed him and kept him from falling. He groaned and wiggled around on the bench, trying to adjust himself.

“I stop and let ya rest but we’re on a tight schedule.” Bhalor told him.

“I’m fine.” Rowan assured him. He moved around again trying to get comfortable.

“If yer arse is hurting, take off that cloak and sit on it. The glamour Folen put on ya has already faded anyway. No more need for a disguise.”

“My ass if fine.” Rowan lied but he took off the cloak and folded it like a pillow then sat on it anyway.

Bhalor laughed. “Guess even vamps kin get a sore arse.”

Rowan sighed. “It’s just the first time I’ve ever sat on anything this hard.”

Bhalor pursed his lips. For the first time since meeting Rowan, a look of anger crossed his face.

“Something wrong?” Rowan asked, looking at the larger man.

“It’s nothin'” Bhalor said, his tone emotionless and his eyes trained on the road before him.

“Please.” Rowan said, his voice softer now. “If I’ve said or done something to offend you, please tell me.”

Bhalor sighed. “It’s yer kind that offends me. Not you personally.”

“Oh.” Rowan hung his head in shame. “You’ve been so kind to me, I forgot how much you hate vampires. I suppose it’s not easy for you. Helping the son of your enemy.”

“Not vampires.” Bhalor explained. “Pampered palace imbeciles. I know ya can’t help how ya was raised but did ya ever stop to think about all the people who were sufferin’ while you were sitting pretty up in yer daddies castle? There’s people starving and I bet ya never went a day with an empty belly. Ya never had to sleep on a cold floor, or work until yer fingers bled just to make sure you had a roof over yer head and food on the table. Ya never had to work for anything in yer life, everything’s just been handed to ya. That’s what offends me, yer Highness. That’s why I’m angry.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Rowan pulled the black cloak around himself tighter, cowering away from Bhalor. “You’re right though. I never considered the people of the Kingdom suffering. I suppose I was just too busy feeling sorry for myself to concern myself with the needs of others.”

Bhalor scoffed. “And what did ya have to feel sorry ’bout? I get that ya didn’t wanna marry that bastard, Lord Killian. Who would. That monster gives monsters a bad name. But other than that, I’d say ya had it pretty good.”

Rowan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not a prince. I’m a coward. My people suffer and I did nothing because I was too scared to stand up to my father.”

Bhalor turned to look at Rowan, an odd expression on his face. “Was your father unkind to ya?” He asked.

“I was well cared for.” Rowan stated. His tone flat.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Rowan felt his shoulders sag and he sighed. “My father was prepared to give me away in marriage to a monster. He didn’t care what happened to me. He’d probably been happy if Lord Killian killed me. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that my father hated me. He hated everything about me. But, to answer your question, he wasn’t anything to me. He ignored me as much as he could. He wasn’t above showing me the back of his hand when I disobeyed him, which was quite often. I knew I’d get beaten for my obstinance but I didn’t care. It was worth it just to see the look of ire on his face.” Rowan smirked.

“Seems a bit foolish if ya ask me.” Bhalor stated. “Like pokin’ a bear. Why go looking for trouble if ya kin avoid it?”

“Because,” Rowan sighed. “It let him know that he couldn’t break me. No matter what he did or said. No matter how many times he hit me, he couldn’t break me. Wounds heal in time but if I allowed him to break my spirit, then I’d truly have nothing of myself left, and I wasn’t going to allow him to take that away from me too.”

“I’m sorry.” Bhalor said after a short pause.

Rowan glanced up at him, questioningly.

Bhalor shrugged and gave Rowan a sympathetic smile. “Maybe we ain’t so very different after all.”

***

Rowan tensed as he looked at the road ahead of them. The path they had been taking so far had led them through farm land and then past a small lake where Bhalor had stopped long enough to allow the horse to drink and he and Rowan to get down and stretch their legs. But, now that they had continued on their journey Rowan noticed that the open space began to grow smaller and then they were going down a dirt and gravel road that, to Rowan’s horror, was leading them straight into the woods.

“Bhalor?” He asked. “Where are we?”

“Ganlan forest.” Bhalor answered.

“Bhalor, I can’t go in there. My scent, I’m not safe, the wolves…”

“Relax.” Bhalor pulled on the reins, slowing the mare down a bit as he edged the cart onto the narrow path through the woods. “Most of the wolves have rejoined their packs by now. Any stragglers left roaming the woods won’t come this far. We’re in bog territory now.”

“Are wolves frightened of the bog people?” Rowan asked, curiously.

Bhalor shook his head. “No. We’re allies with the packs but they can’t stand the smell.” He smirked. “You’ll see why in a bit.”

True to his word, the further in they went the worse the smell became. Rowan had never smelled anything so repugnant in his life. Even the open trenches in the city didn’t compare to the rancid smell of the bogs. It wasn’t so much disgusting as it was overwhelming. It was bad. Rowan could barely stand it himself but it wasn’t something one would associate with trash or rot. It was a sour odor mixed with mildew and something that he could only describe as earthy flatulence. That’s all he could think as he covered his nose with his cloak. It was a strong, relentless, never ending fart.

“Dear Gods that’s hideous!” He exclaimed as he waved a hand in front of his face. “How do you stand it?”

Bhalor chuckled. “Smells like heaven to me.”

Rowan looked at him in disbelief as he shook his head.

“Ah, we’re here.”

Rowan looked up. “Here?”

Bhalor pointed ahead. Rowan followed with his eyes to the place Bhalor pointed and at first he saw nothing then, slowly as if his eyes had only to adjust to the darkness around him, he noticed something come into view. It was a dark shadow at first, a silhouette outlining something large that was squeezed in between a grove of large cypress trees. Bhalor pulled the reins and the horse stopped. That’s when Rowan understood that what he was looking at was a medium sized cabin hidden in the trees. Obviously concealed by some form of fairy magic, he thought, as he swore he hadn’t seen anything there before.

Bhalor climbed down from the cart and tied the horse to a tree then walked over to help Rowan down. He was about to protest, claiming he was capable of climbing down on his own but then stopped, grateful for the help when he realized just how stiff his legs were.

“Is this where you live?” Rowan asked him.

Bhalor chuckled. “No, young Prince. If I’d taken ya to me home, you’d ‘ave passed out by now.”

Rowan debated for a moment whether or not Bhalor had made an attempt at a joke but then realized that he was probably telling him the truth. Bhalor’s home was probably a hole in the bog that smelled like the ass end of a troll, or worse. He shivered at the thought.

“This cabin belongs to an old friend of Lady Folen.” He motioned for Rowan to follow him through the trees to the front door of the house. “Come on now, he be expectin’ us.”

Rowan followed behind, not sure what to expect when they reached the door but a little worried about what manner of creature lived in the smelly forest. Not another giant for sure. The cabin was much too small for that. Some type of Fae no doubt but Rowan’s knowledge of Fae was so limited that he really had no idea what to expect.

They had barely reached the door when it suddenly flew open and to Rowan’s surprise, a short, elderly man stepped out to greet them. The old man stood hunched over, a lit pipe in one hand, the other rested on the handle of the door. He had long grey hair and a grey beard that reached midway to his chest. He was dressed in a long, striped, night shirt, and house shoes.

“It’s about time you two showed up.” The old man croaked. “I’ve been sitting up for hours.”

“Had to wait till the streets were cleared.” Bhalor explained. “Folen didn’t want to take the chance that anyone recognized the boi here.”

The old man looked Rowan over closely then turned and walked back into the house. “Well, come in.” His voice called out from the dimly lit room. “No use in heating the outside.”

Bhalor motioned for Rowan to go into the house while he stood by the doorway.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Rowan asked, hesitantly.

“I’ll be more comfortable sleepin’ in the cart.” Bhalor told him. “Ya go on in though. Ol’ Guth won’t bite ya.”

Bhalor turned and walked back to the cart, leaving Rowan standing in the opened door way.

“You’re letting the bugs in.” The old man scolded from behind.

Rowan closed the door then took a few uncertain steps into the cabin. The soft light from a nearby candle cut a path through the foyer into a small living area where a fire burned in a hearth. Over the fire was a large, cast iron pot, the contents bubbled as it cooked sending a heavenly aroma up the permeated the air, making Rowan’s mouth water.

“Hungry?” The old man asked. “There’s a bowl on the table. Help yourself.” He pointed to the table across him where he was sitting, sucking on his pipe, his eyes trained on Rowan though he didn’t seem frightened of the vampire Prince or even apprehensive, just curious.

“Thank you.” Rowan said to the man then made his way to the table, picking up the wooden bowl and spoon that was set out for him. He then turned to the boiling pot and leaned over, inhaling the delicious scent.

“It’s rabbit.” The man answered before Rowan could even ask the question that was burning in his mind. “Threw in some vegetables too. Carrots, cabbage, a few potatoes, and herbs from my garden.”

“Smells delicious.” Rowan smiled as he helped himself to a bowl full.

“Well, eat up. Take as much as you like. I made too much for just myself. Always make too much. Never know when I’m going to get guests.”

Rowan nodded in understanding. “Should I offer Bhalor some?”

The old man shook his head. “He knows he’s welcome. My guess is he’ll find his own meal out in the woods. Normally does.”

“Alright.” Rowan took his bowl and sat down across for Guth then blew on his spoon full of stew before carefully putting it in his mouth. When the stew hit his tongue his taste buds exploded and he had to stifle back a moan. He’d had rabbit before, rabbits were raised at the palace for the purpose of eating, but nothing the cooks had prepared were anything near as delectable as what he was eating now. “This is…magnificent.” He said before diving in for a second bite.

The old man chuckled. “Why, thank you. It’s an old recipe, passed down through generations.”

“Well, it’s better than anything I’ve had at the palace.” Rowan smiled.

Guth took another puff of his pipe and watched Rowan ravenously devour the contents of the bowl. Guth offered him a second bowl to which Rowan declined, not wanting to be rude, but when Guth insisted, Rowan eagerly got up and refilled the bowl.

“Are you thirsty?” The old man asked. “Don’t have any blood. Just put a pot of tea on though.”

“Tea is fine, Sir.” Rowan said after swallowing another spoon full.

Guth poured two cups of tea and sat one before Rowan who thanked him before picking up his cup and sipping at it. He smiled. The tea was as delicious as the stew.

Guth sat back down, sipping his own tea as he watched Rowan finish his meal. “So, King Desmond’s son.” Guth said, thoughtfully. “Must be strange for you, being away from the palace.”

Rowan nodded. “It is. Very strange. But I find that I am enjoying the experience.”

“You’re not like your father. Or any other vampire for that matter. Not that I spend much time around vampires. I tend to keep to myself, here in my cabin, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I like the quiet and solitude of nature.”

“It does seem peaceful here.” Rowan commented. “If you can get passed the smell.”

Guth chuckled. “I’ve been here long enough that it doesn’t bother me. I suppose I’ve grown used to it. It does help to keep the wolves at bay though. I’m sure if they caught sight of me they might think me a tasty treat. Then again, at my age, there’s not much left of me but bones to gnaw on. Still, I’d prefer not to become some pups chew toys.”

“Do you not get along with the wolves then?” Rowan asked, curiously.

“Oh, I get along with them fine.” Guth mused. “When they need something. But there’s no telling how they’ll react on full moon nights, when the beast is more in control than the man. It’s why they stick to the woods and away from neighboring towns. To a wolf following the pull of the moon, a small child, or a helpless old man, is no different than a rabbit. It’s the chase they crave. The meal that follows is just a bonus.”

“I see.” Rowan said as he finished the last of his stew and placed the spoon in the bowl. “But, they’re not always so viscous, are they?”

“Oh heavens no.” Guth told him with a smile. “In human form they’re just like you and me. They have jobs, homes, and families. They’re fiercely protective though, especially of their children. They’ll fight and kill to protect what’s theirs.”

“That’s admirable.” Rowan stated, thinking back to his own father who couldn’t give a damn about him. “If they can love so deeply, I don’t see why they are feared so. It would make more sense to keep them as our allies rather than our enemies.” Of course, Rowan was speaking of the vampire race who seemed to make enemies of everyone, not just the wolves.

“Some people still have a lot to learn.” Guth said, sipping his tea. “No matter how many centuries old they are.”

Rowan smirked at that, realizing that Guth was speaking of Rowan’s father, the King. Rowan stared into his own cup for a long moment before lifting his head and catching Guth’s eyes. The man’s eyes were a soft, light, blue and filled with kindness. Rowan wasn’t sure how old the man was but he imagined that he was sold enough that those eyes had seen their fair share.

“Pardon me.” Rowan said, trying to sound respectful, “But, may I ask, what exactly are you?”

Guth chuckled, his expression light hearted. “I’m an old man.” He answered.

Rowan blinked, “No, I meant what race are you?”

“I know what you meant.” Guth told him, his voice becoming more serious now. “Does it matter? Is my hospitality more or less welcome depending on my race?”

“Well, no.”

“There was a time, long ago, when race didn’t matter. We were all just…people. People living among other people. People helping other people. Yes, we were all different, but our differences complimented each other. We learned to work and live together. Even protect each other. One race wasn’t more superior than any other. We lived in peace.”

“What happened?”

Guth waved the question off. “It doesn’t matter really. What truly matters is those of us who still hold true to the old ways. Show kindness when you can, help those in need, regardless of their race. We are all children of nature and we have to live in this world together so why not try to live in harmony?”

“You are very wise.” Rowan smiled at the old man.

“I’m very old.” Guth retorted with a soft chuckle. “And, I’m very tired. It’s time to call it a night. There’s a cot in the corner you can use. I suggest you get some sleep. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Do you know where I’m going?” Rowan asked. “What Folen’s plan for me is?”

“Bhalor will explain that all in the morning.” Guth told him as he rose from his seat. When Rowan too rose and picked up his empty bowl, Guth shook his head. “Leave it, I’ll tend to it in the morning. For now, sleep.” With that he turned and shuffled off into a room in the back of the house.

Rowan sat the bowl down on the table then retired to the cot that Guth had mentioned. As he lay back and closed his eyes he couldn’t help but think about all that Guth had told him. There was a time when all the races lived in peace. A time before war and slavery. A time before oppression and cruelty. Though Guth didn’t say it, Rowan knew what had happened to end the days of peace and harmony. Vampires had happened. Even though Rowan hadn’t been born yet when the first vampire rose to power, he still couldn’t help but feel the weight of his ancestors sins. Shame for what his people had done filled his heart and he felt hot tears sting his eyes.

He wished desperately that he could undo all the pain that his race had caused and bring peace back to the people but what he could he do? He was just one small omega. He had no power in him to do anything. Not even save himself from the cruelty of his father. Instead, he allowed those whom his father abused and oppressed to save him themselves. Maybe, in some ways, his father was right. Maybe he was useless.

He was suddenly glad that he would never be permitted to rule Basmorte. He’d make a terrible Queen and the people deserved better. They deserved a true monarch that could lead them out of the darkness and heal their pain. A monarch who wasn’t a coward but a true and benevolent leader, and Rowan was none of those things. With a sigh, he drifted off to sleep, where dreams of a better life filled his mind. If only such a life existed. Only time would tell.

ROSEGATE

“I don’t like this.” Nasir was pacing back and forth, grumbling to himself, his boots constantly clicking against the stone floor beneath him. Honestly, it was giving Thaden a headache.

“Will you please sit down and calm yourself.” Thaden rubbed his temples. Ever since the last report had come in regarding Basmorte and the vampire King, Nasir had been on edge.

“Aren’t you worried what this could mean?”

Thaden sighed. “Not really.”

Nasir stared at him, aghast. “You can’t be serious. If the vampire’s start a war it could spill over into our territory. This could end up being a real problem, Thaden. You have to take this seriously.”

“The man just lost his fiance. I think he’s grieving. That’s all there is to it. We shouldn’t be jumping to any conclusions just yet.”

Nasir huffed. “Grieving? You make it sound as though those creatures have the capacity to love.”

Thaden shrugged. “I don’t know if they do or not. What I do know is that I won’t judge an entire race based off of the actions of a few.”

Nasir sat down at the table across from Thaden and leaned forward, folding his arms on the table’s surface. “Their entire race is evil and the lot of them should be wiped out.”

Thaden sighed. “They’ve been quiet for years. They keep to their lands and we stay on ours. So long as they leave us in peace there is no need to engage with them.”

“They’re quiet for now.” Nasir groaned. “Which is precisely why we should strike now. Destroy the problem before there is one. I’m sure the other realms would agree with me. If we all joined forces we could easily over power the vamps and destroy them all.”

Thaden raised an eyebrow as he looked across the table at his friend, his expression soft but serious. “Then we would be no better than the enemy that we seek to destroy. I won’t allow hate to dictate my actions and I’m not looking to start a war.War creates more problems then it solves and should always be considered as a last resort. We should always look for more peaceful ways to resolve our issues before resorting to violence.”

“Then why bother training our warriors? If you’re so determined to keep the peace, why do we learn to fight at all?”

“To be prepared.” Thaden answered. “Just because I want peace doesn’t mean I’m not willing or ready to fight to protect our people. I just hope it never comes to that but if it does, at least we won’t be caught with our pants down.”

“So, what should we do about this new development in the vampire realm?”

Thaden thought for a moment before answering. “Keep your eyes and ears open.” He said, after considering his options. “Inform me at once of any new developments and maybe, for the time being, increase the guard. I may not be willing to rush head first into battle but we can at least be vigilant and ready to fight if we need to.”

Nasir nodded, finally in agreement with the Prince. “I’ll see to it at once.” He said, rising from his seat. More guards on look out and patrol would certainly strengthen their defenses and that was something that Nasir could get behind. Especially with the feeling of dread that had taken root in his gut. This feeling, he just couldn’t ignore, not when it was slowly growing and relentlessly nagging at him. Something was going to happen and it wasn’t something good. His instincts were usually spot on and right now they were telling him to prepare. A storm was coming.

The Duke of Grayholm, Lord Killian Thorn, was a tyrant worse than even King Desmond himself, and his name was not unknown. Tales of his wickedness and depravity had reached even the neighboring realms. Many believed it was only a matter of time before he made a move against King Desmond and seized the throne for himself. With Prince Rowan’s death the threat of war among the vampires was closer than ever. It would only be a matter of time before the other realms joined the fray, seizing the opportunity to destroy their enemy when it was at it’s weakest.

Nasir was certain that war was imminent. He just hoped that Thaden was ready and willing to fight when the time came. Of course peace was always the main goal but Nasir knew that sometimes peace could not be had without crushing a few skulls and he wholly intended those skulls to belong to the vampire scum that threatened their lives and enslaved their people. For Nasir, the time of peace was over. Now was the time to fight back and destroy the evil that had corrupted their lands for far too long. It was time for the reign of vampires to end.

Once Nasir had left the Prince’s chambers, Prince Thaden picked up the piece of parchment that had been delivered to him earlier. The parchment that held the report which had Nasir so riled up. The report wasn’t good but Thaden didn’t think it had anything to do with Rosegate or the Elven Kingdom. Still, it was worth keeping an eye on things, just in case. What he had heard of the Duke’s recent behavior was disturbing. More disturbing than any past reports concerning his behavior. What was most concerning in the latest report was his behavior since the young Prince’s death because it was so out of character for Lord Killian.

Thaden read over the report again, more carefully this time, narrowing his eyes as he took in the details of what had been observed over the past few days. Killian had not left to return to Grayholm as Thaden would have thought. There were rumors of a wedding between Lord Killian and Lady Emilia being arranged which could account for him staying at the palace but Thaden wondered how true those rumors were. According to the report, Lord Killian had locked himself away in the guest suite at the palace and refused to see anyone. No servants, and not even his supposed fiance, Emilia were granted entrance. To Thaden, that did not sound like the actions of a man about to be wed.

What more, the Grand Duke, Lord Killian’s father, had arrived at the palace the day before in an effort to draw his son out. According to Thaden’s informants, Lord Killian, in his isolation, had been neglecting his duties and ignoring the concerns of his tenants. He refused to dine with his father and apparently had been refusing to eat or even to hunt. For the past three days no one had seen nor heard from him and didn’t even know if he still lived which was why the Grand Duke had been called in. Thaden ran a hand through his long brown locks as he considered what this could mean.

Certainly it was a serious matter if the Grand Duke himself had been persuaded to leave the confines of his manor house, a place he had not stepped foot out of in years. There was much speculation as to what exactly was going on. Was the Duke, Lord Killian, in mourning for his lost Prince or was something more sinister under foot? Perhaps the Grand Duke and his son were plotting against the King. Thaden wasn’t sure how that would effect the people of Basmorte, should Killian achieve his goals of overthrowing the King. Trading one devil for another didn’t seem to bold well for the inhabitants of the vampire realm.

Perhaps Nasir was correct though. If an uprising was in the works perhaps now would be the time to strike and potentially end the suffering of his people. In any event, the situation deserved to be monitored at least. When Thaden knew more about what was actually going on, he would be in a better place to make important decisions. He knew many of his own people were growing tired with his perceived indifference to the vampire Kingdom and his refusal to step in and liberate the Fae and Elven slaves held there but, he was reluctant to break the treaty that his father had fought so hard to put in place.

The current slaves and servants kept by the vampire nobility were born and raised in Basmorte. Many or most being bred specifically for servitude but still born there whether in captivity or not. The treaty declared that one race not be permitted to invade the lands of the other, kill or capture members of the other realms, or attempt to free captives born into slavery. The wording was very specific. Unless the vampire’s invaded Rosegate for the purpose of killing or enslaving elven residents, Thaden could not attempt to retrieve the descendants of the original slaves. It was the price that had to be paid to ensure the safety of future citizens of Rosegate and end the senseless slaughter of both species.

To date, the vampires had kept their word and the raids on the elven peasantry had stopped. It must have seemed a good plan at the time. Sacrifice the few to save the many but as Thaden grew older he began to question the morality of the treaty. The elven King had, for the good of his people, essentially abandoned those still living in Basmorte, condemning them to a life of hard labor, terrible living conditions, and misery. Thaden began to wonder, was the price of peace worth it?

Rosegate had been vampire free for twenty years and it was a wonderful twenty years but, still there was the question nagging Thaden in the back of his mind. Had his father made the right decision or had he simply made a deal with the devil? How could he have abandoned his own kind so easily? Did he even try to free them? Thaden was just a child then and didn’t remember much about the raids on his people. He remembered that the entire Kingdom was in fear. As soon as the sun went down life stopped. Shops closed up and the citizens of Rosegate locked themselves up in their homes, praying for dawn as the raids always came at night, under the cover of darkness.

During the night, countless lives would be lost either taken or killed, drained of blood. In the morning, the aftermath of the raids were discovered. The vampires would enter a home, kill the adults, feeding on them as though they were cattle. They were perhaps the more fortunate ones though as the children were taken back to Basmorte where they would be forced into slavery. The citizens weren’t the only ones stolen either. The live stock would be dead or taken and the homes burned to the ground. It was devastating.

Large patrols were sent out at night in a effort to ease the fears of the people. Wards were put in place around the border of the city but that still left the farms vulnerable. The elven King then organized and trained hunting parties armed with weapons and enchantments meant for killing vampires. These hunters were successful in ambushing and killing off most of the raiding parties but that only angered the vampire King which led him to attacking the farms, and killing whole families, children as well as the adults. He slaughtered and burned the live stock, and destroyed the fields. Then the attacks in broad day light began.

With most of the food source destroyed, the elven King sent hunters into the forests to hunt wild game. Most of those hunters never returned. Those that did were returned to the King in pieces as a warning. The two realms were on the brink of war and the elven King knew he had to do something to protect his Kingdom. Attacking Basmorte was out of the question. The Kingdom was too well guarded and the vampire army too strong. So, the Elven King went to the neighboring realms, begging for help. Most didn’t want to get involved but the vampires had recently started invading Wolfhaven and Moonharbor. It didn’t take much persuading to get the moon tribes involved.

With the wolves on their side and the help from some local wizards, they were able to attack the vampires head on, breaking through the walls of Basmorte, destroying farms, slaughtering any vampire they found, and nearly annihilating the lower city. The vampires fought back with full force and so many soldiers, warriors, and innocents were slaughtered, on both sides. The vampire King lost his only son in this battle and his own people, angry that their King would not send in more guards to protect them, began to turn on him.

When King Desmond realized that a mutiny was beginning among his own subjects, he called for a meeting with the eleven King and the leaders of the werewolf tribes, and that was when the treaty was suggested. It took three years for the treaty to be drafted but finally, when all were in agreement, it was signed and the fighting stopped. The vampires were allowed to keep their slaves, the elf King was given gold and live stock to make up for what had been taken, and the wolf tribes were given land in the north to expand their territory. Everyone walked away with something though it could never make up for all that was lost.

At least the future safety of Rosegate and all her people were secured but those old enough to remember the raids would never forget the pain and devastation the vampires had caused. Many, like Nasir, felt that the treaty was an insult and that the vampires should have all been destroyed. Thaden didn’t know why his father agreed to the treaty and didn’t just kill the vampire King when he had the chance. It would have been too easy. He could have waited for the King to arrive then ambushed the caravan and taken them all out. Perhaps though the elf King could not bring himself to dishonor his name or his people by attacking the vampire King who had come under a banner of truce.

Whatever the reason, the elf King honored the truce and met with the vampire King and thus the treaty was formed. There was finally peace in Rosegate but the elf King was never the same after. Thaden figured the man had just lost too much and maybe the weight of his decision to abandon those left in Basmorte had never set well with him either. Thaden didn’t know and he never questioned his father. All he knew was that when the elf King returned from signing the treaty, he wasn’t the same man. A darkness had shrouded him ever since and year after year he slipped into a deeper depression that eventually left him in such despair that he could no longer function as King.

The eldest of the King’s son, Thaden’s older brother, Crown Prince Lierin Daccaryn of Rosegate, had stepped up to rule in his stead. Lierin was a good ruler and he cared for his people greatly but he never questioned his fathers actions or motives. It frustrated Thaden to no end that his brother should just turn a blind eye to those still enslaved by the vampire King but, he could do nothing without his brother’s consent and there was still the treaty to think about so, Thaden’s hands were tied. If only he could convince Lierin to have the treaty examined more careful perhaps they could find some loophole that could be used to their advantage.

That was easier said than done though as Lierin had dismissed Thaden’s concerns on more than one occasion. Still, never hurt to try. Thaden stood and tucked the report into his belt then left his chambers and made his way to the Crown Prince’s chambers where he would undoubtedly find his brother bent over a stack of papers taller than Mt. Tarayn. Recently, Lierin had been pulled into a land dispute between a clan of brownies and a family of gnomes, each claiming to have ancestral claim over the land.

The two were so closely related that it was entirely possible they were both right. So, Prince Lierin had been searching through family records and ancient deeds going as far back as a thousand years trying to determine who had actual rights to the land and so far had come up empty handed. It was a welcome break from the tiresome task when Thaden knocked on the door to his study and requested entrance.

“Come in.” Lierin said in a weary voice.

Thaden opened the door and stepped into the room, at once noticing the exhausted look on his brother’s face. “Still at it?” He chuckled.

“This is impossible.” Lierin sighed. “As far as I can tell both parties have legitimate claim over the land. It was gifted to a Snoognart and Rumhiadheonn Bodhion in the year of Iallanghei as a wedding present. After that it was passed down through the generations, the last owner being Beoteida Eanghom who was of both gnome and brownie decent and died with no children so the land has been in dispute ever since.”

Thaden sat down and smirked.

“What?” Lierin sat back and crossed his arms. “What’s so damn funny?”

“Just picturing you playing peace keeper between a horde of pint sized feuding fairies. It’s adorable really.”

“This is no laughing matter.” Lierin sighed. “Brownies are tricksters and gnomes though small can be vicious little things. I don’t want to be on the bad side of either of them.”

“Why not just decree that the land belong to each and split it down the middle. One clan keep to one side and the other clan stay on theirs. If they don’t agree, sic a pack of bog hounds on ’em. That will teach the little pests a thing or two.” He chuckled.

Lierin raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a bad idea. Not the hounds part but splitting the land. I’ll explain it’s the best I can do and they’ll just have to agree.”

“And if they don’t?”

Lierin smirked. “Then I’ll consider the bog hounds.”

Both brothers laughed at that. “So,” Lierin said, growing more serious. “What have you got for me?”

Thaden handed him the report he’d received earlier. Lierin read it over carefully then looked up, concern etched across his face. “Do you anticipate trouble?”

“Not yet.” Thaden said, honestly. “Though Nasir is convinced there is going to be a vampire uprising and we are going to be dragged into the middle of it. He thinks we should invade now and destroy them all.”

Lierin Smiled, knowing all to well what Nasir was like. “Nasir is too quick to fight when a more diplomatic approach is needed. But, he has a valid point. I don’t know if this means anything,” He waved his hand over the parchment before him, “But we should be alert for any sign that trouble is brewing.”

“We’ll be ready to fight, if we have to. Though I’d prefer to avoid it if possible.”

“Wouldn’t we all.” Lierin ran a hand through his long, brown, hair. “No ruler wants to see his people thrust into the horrors of war but some times it is necessary to protect what is ours. Tell me, what will you do to ensure our peoples safety? What measures will you take to protect them?”

“Bog Hounds?” Both men chuckled at that. “But seriously, I’ve already ordered more guards on look out and larger patrols. If the vampires cross into our territory we’ll know it. I can also strengthen the wards on the main gate and each checkpoint, if it pleases your Highness.”

Lierin nodded. “Make it so.”

Thaden stood, bowed to his brother then left the room as Lierin went back to his stack of land deeds and birth records. As Thaden left Lierin’s rooms he sent up a silent prayer to The mother Goddess, Danu, that the vampires keep their distance. If they do somehow manage to plunge themselves into civil war there was no need for them to drag the neighboring realms into their issues. One thing did bother him though as he walked the empty hall of the elven palace. If the Duke of Grayholm did manage to overthrow King Desmond and seize the thrown, would he uphold the treaty?

Thaden didn’t know the man enough to say for certain that he would. A cold chill ran down Thaden’s spine and he shivered. Nasir was ready to fight. Lierin was worried. Maybe Thaden wasn’t taking the situation with the vampire realm as seriously as he should. He prayed that his instincts were wrong but Thaden suddenly had the sinking feeling that something significant was going to happen. Change was coming, good or bad it was coming. There was something in the air, something in the way the servants whispered to each other in the corridors, something in the earth itself. It was as if the spirits of nature were calling out to him, warning him to be alert and cautious.

On instinct, he passed his own chambers and continued down the hall to the stairwell that lead out to the royal gardens. Walking out onto the veranda he stood against the stone wall, looking out over the courtyard. The scent of flowers was all around him and a gentle breeze blew through his hair. The landscape was breathtaking, the sky overhead was blue and clear. It was a beautiful day. He should have felt at ease but he wasn’t. It was like the beauty surrounding him was all an illusion, hiding the darkness that lay behind the facade of peace. He sighed, gripping the stone ledge tighter, his knuckles turning white under the pressure.

He’d strengthen the cities defenses. Increase the guard, increase patrols, and strengthen the wards. Maybe he’d even order extra training for the soldiers, keep them on their toes. That’s all he could do for now. That, and wait. For what though he did not know. He just knew that something was coming and whatever it was, it was going to change his life forever.