Shadows of Desire Ch. 07

A gay story: Shadows of Desire Ch. 07 A/N Wanted to add this here for a little clarification on races in this story.

In this world there are five main races. Vampires and Fae, Humans, Weres, and Otherkin.

The Fae is a broad term for beings such as faerie, mere-folk, sirens, banshee, Dwarfs, halflings, Changlings, Gnomes, Brownies, Dryads, Dullahan, Bog people, and the seelie and unseelie court. Elves are also in this category. If a character is an Elf they will be specifically mentioned as Elf. If they are referred to as Fae they can be any of the above mentioned Fae. There are other Fae as well but I only listed those that have been or might be mentioned in the story. Weres are shifters that can shift at anytime but MUST also shift during a full moon such as Werewolves. If they are not forced to shift under a full moon they are just shifters (people who can shift into different animals). Humans are just ordinary Humans. Otherkin would be creatures such as Demons, Angels, Gods, Goddesses and Dragons, just to name a few. Witches, Wizards, and other magic users can exist within any race, even humans. Note that each race may have a God or Goddess that they worship but that deity is not nessasarily of that particular race. In this world deities are of a race known as the Tuatha De Danann or just shortened to Tuatha. They are immortal being with supernatural powers and are responsible for the creation of all other races.

Thanks, and hope you enjoy the story.

WAYFARING PRINCE

Rowan and Thaden had barely left the inn when the first drop of rain had fallen, lightly hitting the side of Rowan’s face. Rowan closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky as more drops fell, splashing against his skin. Thaden chuckled as he watched him.

“I’ve never seen someone so happy about being caught in the rain.” He remarked.

Rowan smiled. “After being locked away in my father’s castle for so long it’s a welcome sensation.” He opened his eyes and looked back at Thaden. “When I lived at Ravenskeep, I would often go outside and play in the rain. It felt natural. I felt free.”

“You’re free now.” Thaden kissed the top of his head. “And you can play in in the rain anytime you wish. Walls will no longer hold you and you’ll never need to fear the shadows again.”

“I’ve never feared the shadows.” Rowan said. His voice took on a more melancholy tone as he recalled what life was like at the palace. “The shadows became my sanctuary. They hid me from my father’s wrath. Within the shadows I could truly be unseen.”

“You speak like an unseelie.” Thaden chuckled.

“Maybe that’s what I am.” Rowan looked at him, his expression serious as he pondered the possibility. “No one really knows what I am. But being a member of the night court seems fitting, don’t you think?”

“No.” Thaden said, his smile fading. “The unseelie court are monsters. Evil and twisted. True they live in the shadows and come out at twilight but they’re malevolent tricksters. They thrive on chaos and wickedness and can’t be trusted.”

“Have you ever seen one?” Rowan asked, curiously.

Thaden nodded. “They live deep in the mountains of Morag, east of the valley of Mor. My father had dealings with them once when I was a boy. Their Queen, Genyrth, came to the Palace of Rosegate with a Dullahan called Gadran. He was the most ghoulish thing I’d ever laid eyes on. He carried his head beneath his arm and his skin was sickly white, like a corpse. I recall he had piercing yellow eyes and stark white hair. The Queen wasn’t much better. White hair and pale white, almost gray skin. Her eyes were black and she wore a bone crown on her head, the center piece was a raven’s skull.”

Rowan shivered as he pictured the woman wearing such a grizzly crown. It reminded him of his father’s crest. “The raven is a symbol of the Goddess Morrigu.” Rowan pointed out. “Do they worship her?”

“They worship death.” Thaden told him. “Darkness and death.”

The chill in Thaden’s voice told Rowan that despite being Fae, like Thaden, the elven Prince feared the unseelie, maybe as much as he feared vampires. There seemed to Rowan though, to be an odd similarity between the two. Not all unseelie drank blood though some did, but all were dangerous creatures to be feared. Rowan was suddenly grateful that he’d never had the displeasure of meeting one face to face.

***

Thaden knew they were hours still from Ansonia. If they kept going they might make it there by morning but the rain had picked up quite a bit and he just couldn’t reason going any further with the storm bearing down on them.

As they rode through the darkness Thaden did his best to steer the horse, Shadow dancer, but visibility was getting worse. Even Shadow dancer seemed unable to find her way in the pouring rain and inky blackness. They had long ago left the road, preferring to travel within the forest where they were less likely to be seen, but now Thaden wished he’d kept to the road. At least then he would have some idea of where he was going.

Rowan had pulled his hood over his head at the first sign of rain and for the last ten minutes had kept his head down as he snuggled closer to Thaden. He lifted his head suddenly though as a familiar scent caught his attention. “Someone’s roasting a meselbeast.” Rowan said, licking his lips.

Thaden sniffed the air but all he could smell was rain. “How do you know?” He asked.

Rowan grinned then tapped the side of his nose. “Not as strong as a were but stronger than yours.” He giggled.

“Show off.” Thaden chuckled. He squinted his eyes as he looked in the direction that Rowan had indicated. He was about to tell Rowan that he didn’t see anything when he noticed smoke billowing up over the tree line. “Looks like there might be a village over that way.” He said, pointing to the direction of the smoke.

Rowan glanced that way. “Do you think it’s safe?”

“We’re near Ansonia now.” Thaden told him. “So, it could be a small settlement of Fae or an Elven village. We’re far enough from Basmorte that it wouldn’t be vampires or weres.”

“Then, it’s safe for you.” Rowan bit his bottom lip nervously, tensing some in Thaden’s arms. “I’m not so sure they would be very welcoming to me.”

Thaden pulled Rowan against him, hugging him close to his body. “No one is going to harm you, love. Do you think I’d allow that?”

“I know you wouldn’t. It’s just…”

Thaden cut him off, kissing the top of his head. “You’re safe with me, Rowan. You’ve nothing to fear.”

Rowan nodded though not completely convinced. After the reaction they’d gotten from Esta and the other patrons of the tavern, Rowan wasn’t convinced he’d ever be completely safe again. He was beginning to realize just how hated vampire’s actually were outside the gates of Basmorte. Thanks to his father, Rowan had enemies everywhere. Not just in Rosegate. It seemed the entire world despised his race.

***

Thunder rumbled overhead and lighting split the sky. Thaden urged Shadow dancer through the storm, coming closer to where he’d seen the smoke and the delicious scent of roasting meat. Rowan’s mouth watered as the aroma of food got stronger and more potent. The bread and cheese that Lavinia had sent with them was filling and the dried meat was quite good, but Rowan longed for a hot meal next to a warm fire that would quickly chase away the chill of the rain.

Slowly, Shadow dancer made her way through the thick trees, swerving and barely able to fit through a couple of massive oaks that stood, almost as a gateway, into the tiny village. Rowan stared amazed at what came into view before them. Not the sturdy cottages or farm houses that he had seen in both Basmorte and Rosegate. No manor houses or castles filled the area either. Tiny huts with thatched roofs littered the clearing.

The horse stepped out of the forest and onto a dirt road, now mud covered thanks to the rain. Shadow Dancer’s hooves sank into the sludge nearly making it impossible to tread through. The horse struggled so much that Thaden finally dismounted then led the horse through by hand. Rowan gripped the reins tightly as to not fall off as Thaden jerked and tugged, moving the horse slowly forward.

The closer they came to the village, the more detail Rowan was able to make out. It was a quaint little town and in the day light would have been quite beautiful. Everywhere Rowan saw flowers arranged in hanging pots or planted around the tiny huts. Green shrubs and vines covered many of the homes and there were small trees growing between the huts, some actually inside the huts and growing up through the roofs. In the center of the village was a good sized water well with a wooden roof stretched out over the top. The well was made of red brick and more tiny flowers sprouted up around the base.

The smell of roasted meat was coming from a small building that Rowan suspected to be a butchers shop, as he could see the meat roasting on a spit over a fire in a window of the shop. The storm had chased most of the residents inside but Rowan saw a couple of people running across the road going from one hut to what looked to be a small barn or hutch. From inside the hutch Rowan could hear the bleating of goats. One of the residents, a young girl, stopped long enough to pull back her hood and take a good look at the riders entering their village.

Thaden waved to the girl and Rowan caught the sight of green hair and red eyes as the girl quickly pulled her hood back up then ran back to her hut. “Wood Nymphs?” Rowan asked, looking to Thaden for clarification.

Thaden nodded. “It would appear so.” He looked around the small village, taking it all in. “Would explain why this village is hidden in the middle of a forest. Wood Nymphs prefer to be close to nature, specifically large trees.”

Wood Nymphs. Otherwise known as Dryads. Rowan stared at the village in awe. He’d known only a few Dryads in his young life and those had been slaves in Basmorte. This was the first time he had actually seen any in their natural dwelling. With a pang of regret and guilt he just realized how hard it must be for the ones at the Palace to live in such a place, far from the woods that gave them their power. Dryads were spirits of nature. Many of them had their souls linked to specific trees. Ancient trees that stood towering and majestic.

It must have pained them greatly to be ripped from their homes and forced to serve vampires who cared nothing for them. It was no wonder the vampires were hated by so many. Rowan couldn’t blame them. He could only imagine what it was like for them. He was away from the only home he’d ever known and thrown into a world that was frighting and unfamiliar but that had been by his own choice. He hadn’t been torn away from his family and thrust into a life of servitude and captivity. More than ever he wished that he could just march into Basmorte, challenge his father for the throne, and free all of the slaves.

Sighing in frustration, Rowan looked down at his hands grasping at the reins. He suddenly wanted to turn around and flee. How could he face these people let alone ask for their assistance when so many of their kind had been enslaved or even killed by his own father? He cursed himself for being a coward. How could he ever hope to change anything when he couldn’t even face his own demons? Maybe his days of hiding in the shadows were over but he was still hiding from himself. How long could he go on running when so many others were suffering and all he could do was turn a blind eye? Something had to change and soon or he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the eye much longer.

While he was busy scolding himself, Rowan failed to notice the two people who had come out of the hut that young girl had run into. Thaden had stopped and the two, a man and a woman, walked up to him, cautiously. Thaden held up his hands to show that he was no threat to them. The woman glanced to the sword at his waist but said nothing. Even in the darkness Rowan could make out the expression on the man’s face. His eyes glanced at Thaden then to Rowan as if he were assessing them both. He didn’t trust either of the strangers who had just ventured into his village.

The woman was harder to read as her face was partcially concealed by the hooded cloak she wore but judging by the way she held back, clinging to the man who was probably her mate, Rowan guessed that she trusted them even less.

“Greetings, friends.” Thaden spoke. Trying to ease the tension in the air. “I mean you no harm. My mate and I have traveled here from Rosegate. We unfortunately got caught in this storm and are in need of lodging.”

“Rosegate?” The man stroked his green, grassy, beard. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Indeed.” Thaden smiled warmly at the couple, again showing them that he was not to be feared. “We’re traveling to Ansonia.”

“What business do you have there?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time. Her voice was cold and unnerving.

“My business is my own.” Thaden answered her in the same friendly voice he’d been using though the meaning behind his words was clear. He didn’t trust these people anymore than they trusted him.

“We got no room here.” The woman snapped, pulling her woolen shawl tighter around her stooped shoulders. “And we don’t like strangers.”

“Aggie.” The man scolded. He shook his head at his mate and she turned away with a huff. The man turned back to Thaden and smiled. “Forgive my wife. We don’t get many travelers come this way. Just seems a bit odd that you’d be so far off the main road. Only men who don’t wish to be found take the dark route through the forest.”

“I’m embarrassed to say, I veered off the main road when the storm hit and lost my way.” Thaden lied. “It’s too dark to make it back to the road now. I thought perhaps we could find shelter and wait out the storm then get back on the road in the morning.”

“Well, yeah, I suppose it’ll be alright. If it’s just for the night, mind you.” The old man scratched the back of his neck as he considered what to do. Aggie shot him an angry glare.

“Elor!” Aggie hissed. “You can’t just…”

“Oh, shut your trap woman.” Elor sneered. “It’s just for one night. Would you have me turn them out in the rain?”

Aggie gave a disgusted grunt, threw her hands up in the air then shuffled back into the hut. Elor turned back to Thaden. “Only space I got is in the barn with the goats. It don’t smell great but at least it’s warm and dry.”

“We appreciate your hospitality.” Thaden told him.

Elor nodded then turned and headed for the barn, waving at Thaden and Rowan to follow.

Rowan dismounted with Thaden’s help and walked beside him as Thaden lead the horse over to the barn. He had to tie her up outside though as she was too large to fit into the tiny, goat sized, stalls. Even Thaden had to duck his head to get through the door. Rowan’s head barely brushed the top of the doorway as he followed Thaden inside. As small and cramped as the barn was, the huts were even smaller. Rowan doubted that he and Thaden would have even fit in one. Maybe had they been alone, but not with an entire family of Nymphs.

Wood Nymphs weren’t as small as a Dwarf or Halfling but they were smaller than Elves or Vampires. Leaner too, having a short and delicate frame with slender limbs and a small waist. Their facial features also tended to be small and dainty with a small nose and thin-if any at all-eyebrows. Their eyes were small and narrow, often hidden beneath their bark like skin and their iris’s were usually of a red or amber color. Their fingers, though abnormally long, were thin and often resembled small tree branches with claw like nails.

There was no mistaking what they were when one encountered them, if they were in their true form. Nymphs were shapeshifters and could take on the shape of anything from a small woodland creature to a beautiful woman bathing beside a lake. Most were benevolent but they were fiercely protective of their homes and family and could become violent when threatened. Woodcutters have long told stories of the unlucky man who attempted to chop down a tree belonging to a wood Nymph and never being heard from again.

In Basmorte, Rowan had never witnessed any of the powers of the Dryad slaves. Being so far from their homes weakened them and drained their energy. Water Nymphs were harder to enslave as any source of water could give them strength and so they would often retaliate against their captors. Dryads though needed to be in wooded areas, around plants and trees, and they needed sunlight to stay healthy. Keeping them in dark, dank, and cramped cells when not working ensured that they would never have the strength to fight back.

The Vampires had other such methods of enslaving supernaturals as well. Magic binding collars were one they used a lot. Such collars could keep Elves from casting spells and even keep shifters from changing form. Weres however, were another matter entirely. The collars would keep them from selectively shifting but they could not counter the magic of the moon and the Weres would shift despite the collar. Some would die from the strain but others, the more stronger ones, would break the collar and the transformation would complete itself.

Weres under the call of the moon were stronger, bigger, faster, and more aggressive. They could not be tamed or controlled. Not when their beast had control of them. They were deadly and terrifying. Werewolves were the most dangerous of all Weres, with Werecats coming in at a close second. Rowan had never seen a Werecat but he’d heard of them. To him, they sounded fascinating but they tended to live more in the mountainous areas and largely kept to themselves. Still, he would have loved to have met one, just once.

Rowan had always had a liking of cats. Especially black ones. He loved their small, sleek bodies, and the way they could appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. They seemed magical and so mysterious. Like him, they were creatures of the night. Beautiful but deadly. Also, they made for good companions. He’d begged his father to allow him to keep one as a pet but his father had refused. Eventually he just stopped asking. Knowing that it wouldn’t do him any good. Now that he was free of his father though, he was going to make a point of getting one. Once he and Thaden were settled somewhere.

The barn was indeed warm and dry and there was an empty stall near the back with fresh, clean, hay laid on the floor where Thaden and Rowan could sleep for the night. Thaden thanked Elor again as Rowan walked to the stall and laid their bags and skins down on the hay. He removed his hood and turned back to Thaden, smiling, he walked over and stood at his side.

“You are very kind for allowing us to stay here.” Rowan said as he slipped his hand into Thaden’s. “We’ve been traveling so long and…” He stopped speaking as his eyes met Elor’s and Elor scowled at him, anger burning in his eyes. He turned at once to Thaden, ignoring Rowan’s words.

“What is this?” The man growled suddenly. “You never said you were traveling with a Vampire.”

Thaden squeezed Rowan’s hand, signaling him to stand behind him. “He’s my mate.” Thaden said, his voice sounding colder now as he narrowed his eyes. “He’s no danger to you or anyone else in this village.”

“If you believe that then you’re a fool.” The old man hissed. “The only good Vampire is a dead Vampire.”

Thaden moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. “I think we’ll take our chances in the rain.” He growled. “Rowan, get our things, we’re leaving.”

“Rowan?” The old man’s eyes widened as he stared at the two strangers. “Prince Rowan? The supposedly dead, Prince Rowan?”

Thaden groaned internally. He wasn’t prepared to reveal their identities to the people of this village. His mistake could potentially cost them their freedom. Getting defensive, Thaden bore his eyes into Elor. “Now, listen here old man…” But, just as he was about to threaten the man to keep his silence, Rowan unexpectedly stepped out from behind him and placed his hand gently on Thaden’s arm.

“Yes, I am Prince Rowan of Basmorte.” He said softly, calmly. He looked Elor in the eye and then did somethin that neither Elor nor Thaden had expected. Rowan took a knee and bowed to the old man.

Elor gawked at him, unsure what was happening. “Is this some kind of trick?” He snapped. “You’re supposed to be death. Poisoned by your own hand. I suppose your father planned this. Sneak you into our village so you can abduct more of my people!”

“I assure you it is no trick.” Rowan lifted his head and again made eye contact as he spoke to the man. “My father, like all of Basmorte, thinks me dead. It was necessary to appear as though I had died in order to escape my father but it was artifice. A pretense. I was aided by my Fae servant and a bog giant. They helped me to flee Basmorte and into Rosegate where I met my mate, Prince Thaden. The Elven King refused to allow his son to take a Vampire mate and so we ran. All that we want is to start a new life together, free of the control of either of our fathers. Truthfully, we mean you no harm. We just need shelter for the night and by morning, we’ll be gone.”

“And you expect me to believe all that?” Elor sneered, taking a step forward. Thaden tensed, ready to fight but Rowan looked at him and shook his head. He then looked back to Elor.

“You have no reason to believe what I say.” Rowan told him. “But, I ask you to search your heart and you will know that I speak the truth. I’ve no reason to lie and as I have no desire to trick you. The Dryad are good people. In the Palace, the Fae have always been kind to me. My servant, Folen, was like a mother to me. She sheltered me from my father’s cruelty and comforted me after my mother died. I have nothing but respect for the Fae.”

“His words are true.” Thaden added, his tone softer now. “Rowan was treated poorly by his own father. Beaten and locked away for years. He has no love for King Desmond nor does he agree with his ways. He wishes only peace and happiness for our kind.”

Elor raised an eyebrow. “Does he now? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. If he cared so much for our kind, he would have stayed and fought for the freedom of those enslaved by his father instead of running away like a spoiled little brat. If you are who you say your are then you are worse than your father because you were in a position to help but instead you thought only of yourself and left behind those you claim to care about. Those you claim were kind to you. What kind of Prince abandons his people merely to save his own skin? You are no Prince, Rowan of Basmorte, you are a coward. Stay the night, but be gone by sun up. I care not to ever see your face again.”

Elor turned on his heels and stalked out of the barn and back out into the raging storm. Thaden moved to follow after him but Rowan stopped him. “Let him go.” Rowan sighed as he stood up. “He’s entitled to his anger. And, he’s right. I’ve let so many people down when I could have done something. Stood up to my father, something, yet I did nothing.” He walked to the empty stall and sat down.

“Your father would have killed you had you challenged him.” Thaden knelt in front of Rowan, looking down at him with concern.

Rowan pulled his knees to his chest and hung his head in shame. His eyes filled with tears. “At least I wouldn’t have died a coward.” He said sadly. “At least I would have died with honor.”

PHANTOM’S LAMENT

“Will you please try not to look so miserable, mother.” Emilia chanced a glance at her mother and frowned. The Queen sat at the long table looking put out with all the festivities around her. This behavior was not like her mother at all and it had Emilia worried. If she couldn’t hide her fears, people would begin to suspect them and Emilia would not stand for that. If it came down to it, she would put all the blame on the Queen and feign innocence for her part in the scheme. She had no doubt that her own mother would do the same were the shoe on the other foot.

“I just think we should have waited before having your crowning feast.” The Queen told her, not bothering to look at Emilia. “At least a month to give the people the proper amount of time to mourn the death of their King.”

Emilia scoffed at that. “Mourn him? Mother, nobody mourns him. If anything we should be celebrating. We’re finally rid of the bastard.” Emilia picked up her glass and sipped from it. “That’s cause enough for me to celebrate.” She chuckled softly.

“Bite your tongue girl.” The Queen hissed. “It’s bad enough that your husband already suspects me. What if he decided to go to the council and tell them of his suspicions. If we’re found it it will be both our heads on the chopping block my dear daughter. I will not go down for this crime alone. Mark my words.”

“Get a hold of yourself, mother.” Emilia smiled at one of her guests as they bowed and congratulated her. The golden ringlet on her brow glistened like the sun in the candle light and many admirers had approached to remark on it’s beauty. Emilia thanked them and exclaimed how the King had had it made special for her and had planned to present the crown to her himself at her royal crowning ceremony as a belated wedding gift.

This was all a lie though as the crown had been fashioned for Rowan and was to be presented to him at his own wedding. Just one more thing that infuriated Emilia when she first saw the ring of gold, adorned with a sparkling red ruby in the center of a pair of outstretched raven’s wings. The King claimed to have known nothing about the crown stating that he was not the one who had commissioned it. Caroline was almost certain that the King was lying. Who else would have commissioned it if not the King?

Emilia touched the crown and smiled to herself. She would never had allowed Rowan of all people to possess the crown. Even if she had to rip it off his corpses head. The crown was always meant to be hers and Emilia always got what she wanted. Just as the Queen always got what she wanted. She was her mother’s daughter after all and her mother had taught her well.

As the last guest left the table and went off to mingle with another group of nobles, gossiping amongst themselves, Emilia turned back to her mother, her expression cold. “I know what’s at stake. You need not remind me.”

“Just remember, daughter, we must stay united in this. If Lord Killian begins to voice his suspicions openly, we may have to take more drastic measures.” The Queen wrung her hands nervously as she glanced around, making sure that no one was listening.

Emilia narrowed her eyes. “And what do you propose? Silence him as well?”

The Queen sighed, shaking her head. “No, of course not. But we must be prepared to counter any claims he might make.”

Emilia rubbed at her temples, growing more and more frustrated. “Mother, I’m in control of this situation. You taught me well how to manage appearances, and I will not allow fear to corrupt everything that we have worked so hard to achieve.”

“Even now I feel the eyes of judgment upon me. I do not like this, Emilia. It’s not like the others. I fear that soon someone will catch wind of the truth and our lies will be revealed.”

“Stop your cowardice, mother. You are Queen! Or does the crown rest too heavy on your head?” Emilia hissed, glaring at Caroline with fury in her eyes. “You are being delusional. No one suspects a thing. Soon a servant matching the description you gave will be caught and beheaded. The council will have their justice and you will have gotten away with murder. If, you can keep your wits about you until then.”

“I do not fear the judgment of the living.” Caroline whispered. Her lips trembled as she spoke and she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from a cold that only she could feel. “It is the shadows that haunt these halls that I fear. I hear them screaming throughout the night as they scratch and crawl out from within the darkness, inching closer and closer to me each night.”

Emilia groaned and rolled her eyes. “Now you sound just like Killian. The both of you are mad, I swear it.” She pushed a goblet of wine towards the Queen and scowled at her. “Drink, mother. Let the wine ease your nerves or retire to you chambers where no one can hear your incessant ramblings.”

“You would not be so quick to dismiss me if you had seen the horrors that I have seen.”

“If I had claimed to see what you have seen, mother, you would have had me committed by now.” Emilia grinned wickedly. “Perhaps that is what I should do with you and my darling husband.” She turned her attention to the doorway where Killian had been standing for the last half hour, refusing to enter the banquet hall. “At least then I would have to hear no more talk of ghosts and shadows.”

“I think I shall retire for the evening.” Queen Caroline pushed back her chair and rose as a servant quickly ran to her side and helped her move away from the table, her long, black, skirts trailing behind her like a mourning shroud. Her face was covered by the black veil that she had worn since the King’s funeral yet refused to take off. Even with her veil Emilia could see the haunted look in her eyes, her pale flesh, and the tired and worn expression on her face.

“Go then.” Emilia rose and took her mother’s hand and kissed it. “You need your rest, mother. Truly, you have seen better days. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight.” The Queen walked past Emilia, almost as if in a daze. Her ladies followed behind, one holding her hand as she led the Queen away. Those they passed bowed as the Queen walked by them, paying them no mind. She didn’t even seem to see Killian standing in the doorway as she moved past him without so much as a nod in his direction. He too bowed as she glided past him.

“Your majesty.” He greeted as she ghosted past. He looked no better in appearance as his hair and clothing were disheveled, his expression pinched and his eyes dull. He leaned against the door frame, barely looking up and his eyes often darted from the table where his wife sat to the ground beneath him. He clasped his hands in front of himself, holding them tightly as he willed them not to shake. His shoulders tensed as he caught sight of his bride walking towards him.

“People are staring.” Emilia whispered, her lips close enough to his ear that he could feel her cold breath on his skin. “Why don’t you come in and sit down.” It was a command more than a question and one that he was unwilling to abide.

“T-there are no empty seats, my dear.” He whispered in a trembling voice.

Emilia turned her head to look back at the table then frowned. “What are you talking about, there is an empty chair beside me.”

Killian looked past her to the chair next to her own. He swallowed hard then closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he muttered something under his breath. When he opened his eyes again he groaned and turned his head away.

“What are you looking at?” Emilia demanded, her patience with him growing thin.

“Do you not see it?” He gasped, nodding to the empty chair.

Emilia looked again. “I see nothing but an empty chair. Now, come and sit before you cause a scene.” She took him by the arm and attempted to pull him towards the table but he jerked his arm out of her grasp and glared at her.

“How can you say that you do not see what is sitting right before you?” He yelled in a panic, backing away from the door. “There, in his dark robes of death he stares at me, mocking me from beyond the grave! Since the night we enclosed him in that bloody crypt he has been following me, tormenting me, and now you say you do not see him? What am I to make of this?”

“Calm yourself.” Emilia sneered at him. “First mother and now you. Am I the only one here that has not lost their mind?”

Killian stared at her in disbelief, then suddenly burst out laughing like a mad man. “Your time will come my dearest wife. For you it is slower but your time will come. Then, you’ll be just as mad as the rest of us.”

He turned away from her and hurried down the corridor, trying to get far from whatever phantom he claimed to have seen. Emilia followed after him, yelling at him to stop and face her. Finally, he did turn, narrowing his eyes as he glared at her. “What now? You wish to torment me too?”

“Coward.” She hissed, clenching her jaw. “What kind of man runs from shadows?”

“The kind that wishes to keep his head.” He told her, his voice cracked with emotion as tears welled up in his eyes. “You say there is nothing there and yet I see it nightly!”

“You see nothing.” Emilia took hold of his shoulders and shook him gently. “Killian, look at me. There is nothing there. There are no ghosts. No specters haunt you. What haunts you is your own grief and it’s time you let it go. Let go of the pain and give yourself peace.”

“Peace?” He laughed at her bitterly. “The only peace I’ll get will come when I am dead!”

Emilia stared at him, dumbfounded. It was clear to her that nothing she said would ease his troubled mind. This was made abundantly clear to her when he stepped around her, eyes wide with rage, and glared at the empty doorway where he had once stood.

If his heart were capable of it, it would have been pounding wildly in his chest. There, in the doorway to the dimly lit room stood the shadowy figure, cloaked in darkness. It’s features obscured by an eerie mist that seemed to emanate from it’s very core.

“What? What do you want?” Killian shouted, his voice cracked slightly and trembled as he spoke. “Why are you doing this to me?”

The figure remained silent, its presence sending shivers down Killian’s spine. He could feel the weight of its gaze upon him, even though he couldn’t discern any eyes beneath the misty shroud.

“Speak, damn you!” Killian’s voice grew louder, a mix of frustration and desperation in his tone. “I demand to know why you torment me so.”

Slowly, the figure turned, its cloak swirling as if caught in a breeze that wasn’t there. It began to glide away from the doorway, heading back into the banquet hall beyond. Without thinking, Killian’s legs moved on their own accord, carrying him towards the dark specter.

As he stepped into the banquet hall, the grandeur of the space seemed to be swallowed by the overwhelming darkness of the figure. The flickering candlelight on the tables cast dancing shadows, making it difficult to distinguish reality from illusion.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Killian’s voice echoed through the hall, his words bouncing off the walls. “Why can no one else see you?”

The figure continued to glide forward, its movement eerily silent. Killian’s anger fueled his steps, and he followed the apparition with determination.

“You stare at me, accusing, blaming me for your death but I did not kill you!” His voice came out in pleading sobs as he was overcome with grief and shame. “Why won’t you leave me be?”

The figure remained motionless, its silence a stark contrast to Killian’s impassioned outbursts. Frustration and desperation welled up within him, and he took a step closer to the figure. Still it stood, as though watching him, it’s eyeless face remained fixed, unwavering.

All around him, faces stare in astonishment, not sure what to make of him or his desperate cries. A few turn away from him while others look on in disgust but no one offers a soothing word or comforting touch. People he has known all his life stare at him as though he were a stranger to them now, not one daring to speak or move to help.

Killian dropped to his knees, his head in his hands as he sobbed uncontrollably. “Does no one see this thing, this devil, standing over me? Are you all blind!” He shrieked.

A moment later, Emilia was at his side, pulling at him as she urged him to stand up again. She glanced around at the sea of faces staring at them in silent horror. She feigned a smile and chanced a slight chuckle, trying to ease the tension in the room. “I fear that my husband has drank far to much this evening.” She told her guests. “He still grieves the loss of our Prince and King and I fear that their deaths have taken a toll on him.”

Leaning over him she whispered, “Killian, whatever you think you see, it is an illusion. No one is there. Come, compose yourself, my love. You are frightening our guests.”

“Good.” Killian rasped. “They should be scared. It is a wicked curse that haunts this Palace and no one here is immune.”

Again he looked up to the figure standing silently watching him as he shook and whimpered on the floor, uncontrolled tears streaming down his face as he could no longer fight them back. “Why won’t you answer me?” He plead with the specter. “Tell me what you want or leave me in peace. Go back to your grave and leave the living to their grief!”

“Greagor.” Emilia motioned for him and two other guards to come to her aide. “Please, take Lord Killian to his chambers. He’s tired and he needs to rest.”

“As you wish, Princess.” Greagor bowed then he and the guards pulled Killian to his feet, guiding him out of the hall as he muttered, demanding to know why no one but him sees the ghost standing there. Emilia waited as Killian’s mad ramblings, echoing down the corridor, began to fade, leaving the room once again in silence.

“I apologize for that.” Emilia said, addressing her guests. “He has been unwell but I assure you, all he needs is rest and he’ll be right as rain again.” Her smile faltered as she looked around the room. No one dared make eye contact with her and all activity had stopped. Hushed whispers rose above the quiet unease of the room as the people begin to leave, few of them bidding her goodnight, or even acknowledging her at all.

Hot tears stung her eyes as Emilia turned, hurriedly exiting the room. Humiliated by Killian’s actions, Emilia stormed down the outer hall to the stairs, her fists clenched at her sides and her eyes wide with rage. When she was sure that she was alone, she stopped, turning to the wall, and slammed her fist against the stone, crying out in pain as she looked down to her bloodied knuckles. “Damn him.” She cried out as she pressed her face against the cold stone and sobbed. “Damn them all for doing this to me!”

MADNESS TAKES IT’S TOLL

Luther Thorn stormed into Killian’s room after him. Greagor and his guards guided the young Lord into his bed chamber and though he fought them at first, finally relented and allowed them to lay him on his bed.

Greagor bowed to Luther as he entered the room, demanding to know what was going on and why his son had been dragged from the banquette hall.

“Your Grace.” Greagor greeted the older man as the two guards who had accompanied him left the Lord’s chambers. “The Princess Emilia had ordered us to bring her husband back here and put him to bed.”

“Why?” The Grand Duke snapped. “What right does she have to treat my son, her husband, with such disrespect?”

“My apologies, your Grace but Lord Killian was acting in a most irrational manner. The Princess feared for his safety and ordered him removed from the hall. I believe he has been in his cups and needs a night to sleep it off.”

“I’ve not been behaving irrationally.” Killian pushed himself up from the bed and stared at his father, red eyed and obviously distraught. “And I’ve barely drank a thing. No one believes me but I’ve got the Devil on my heels!”

Luther sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Thank you, Greagor. I can take him from here.”

Greagor bowed to The Grand Duke and to Killian then exited the room. Outside, in the receiving room, the two guards waited for their captain. Both men were chuckling to themselves over something when Greagor appeared before them. They stopped talking at once and stood at attention.

“And just what were the two of you laughing about?” Greagor asked as he looked each of them over with mild annoyance.

“Sir.” The taller of the two men spoke. “We were just commenting on Lord Thorn’s…condition, Sir.”

Greagor raised and eyebrow, curiously. “And, what condition might that be?”

“Sir, he’s obviously three sheets to the wind.” The second Guard, a stocky youth with sandy colored hair, proclaimed with a slight smirk.

“Hm.” Greagor stroked his beard. “I fear it’s more serious than that.” He remarked.

“What do you think ails him?” The first Guard asked, relaxing a bit in his stance.

“Madness.” Greagor said. “I fear the Lord’s mind is gone. Probably brought on by grief over the death of The Prince. He’s not been right since the funeral.”

Greagor stood watching the men who now had a more dire expression on each of their faces. “It makes me wonder.” He said, speaking to no one in general as it was more of a passing thought than anything else. He took a moment to ponder his own words then turned his attention back to his men. “Armin, you and Walt will remain here. Guard the Lord and report back to me if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

“Yes, Captain.” Both men responded in unison. Greagor gave one final nod then left the room. Armin and Walt moved into place near the bedchamber doors and stood guard. From within the room they could hear Killian ranting to his father, the Grand Duke, about the ghost that he claimed was tormenting him. Armin was about to dismiss his rants as the ramblings of a madman when something Killian had said caught his attention.

He leaned his ear against the door to better hear the conversation. Walt looked at him, questioningly. Armin held up a hand, telling the other guard to “wait” as he listened in on the private conversation between Lord Killian and his father. Walt too leaned his ear against the door, curious as to what had his friend so interested. Suddenly, he pulled back, eyes wide and stared at Armin as though he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Walt mouthed the word “Rowan?” Armin put his finger to his lips, urging Walt to remain silent as they listened in.

“There is nothing haunting you, son. It’s all in your imagination.” It was Luther speaking now. “All you need is rest.”

“Rest?” Killian practically screamed at his father. “How can I rest when all I hear through the night is his constant wailing and whispers in my head?”

“I’ll speak to the court physician. I’m sure he has something that will help you sleep.”

“No!” Killian shouted. “I must stay vigilant. He’ll come for me in the night. He always does. If for one moment I let my guard down it will be the end of me!”

“Think about what you are saying.” The Grand Duke persisted. “How crazy it all sounds. And even if what you say is true, why would he come after you? You didn’t kill him. He took his own life.”

“Because of me.” Killian groaned. “He’s dead because of me, because of what I did to him. Now he’s back to torment me and he won’t stop until I’ve paid for my role in his death.”

Armin looked to Walt, the concern clear on his face. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Walt opened his mouth to speak but Armin shook his head. He wanted to hear more.

The Grand Duke continued to argue with his son, trying to convince Lord Killian that he was not responsible but the Duke’s words had fallen on deaf ears. Lord Killian was convinced of his own guilt.

“It matters not what you say father for a I know the truth. I used him. Used him to spite Lady Emilia who pursued me relentlessly though I had little interest in her. I thought a marriage to Rowan would cease her unwanted attentions. I was quite taken with him as well. He seemed such an exotic beauty and I knew that I had to possess him for my own. He rejected me though. He never wanted me. He even begged his father not to force him to wed me but I was determined to have him. Even if meant he would hate me for it.”

“Hush now.” Luther warned in a gentle whisper. “Say no more. These walls have ears, who knows who could be listening.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Killian said, his voice sounding broken. He was on the verge of tears. “Rowan will have his vengeance. It matters little now who knows my sins.”

Armin jumped back as he suddenly heard a loud bang and the door he was leaning against vibrated from the force of the blow. Lord Killian had punched the door in his anguish and was now softly weeping, probably with his head against the door.

Walt took a step back, the shock and bewilderment was clear on his face. “Did…did he murder the Prince?” He whispered, looking to Armin for clarification.

Armin just stared at him for the moment, unsure how to answer that. Honestly, he didn’t know. It was possible he supposed. If Rowan had rejected Killian as Killian had said. Perhaps the rejection sparked a fury within the young lord that he was unable to control and had killed his betrothed in a fit of rage. But no, Rowan had been poisoned. Such a murder would be deliberate, planned, and carried out with care. A murder of passion would be…messier.

“It seems…” Armin shook his head as he carefully chose the words he would speak next. “I think it is possible that he may have killed our Prince or, at least had a hand in his death. Either way, we should report this to the Captain.”

Walt nodded. He looked back to the door and frowned, his face becoming dark and troubled.

“What is it?” Armin asked.

Walt let out a deep breath and turned to face Armin. His eyes narrowed and his expression dire. “If Lord Killian could be responsible for the death of the Prince…” He paused for a moment, moving closer to Armin as he spoke. His voice was low and guarded and shook with unease. “Do you think maybe he…”

“Say no more.” Armin warned him, glancing again to the door. The question hung, unspoken between them but they both were thinking the same thing. If Killian were capable of murdering the Prince, he would be capable of killing the King as well. Perhaps they had been searching for the wrong man all along. Armin shivered internally. The Queen had clearly remembered an elven servant as the assassin but if Killian had been the killer than that meant one of two things. Either the Queen was in shock and her memory had failed her, or she was involved and had covered up the truth.

Armin groaned. Something was terribly amiss within the Palace walls and the mystery was growing deeper. Who could be trusted now? “We should report to the Captain at once.” Armin whispered. “And say nothing to anyone else. The Captain will know how to proceed.”

Walt nodded but before he could say more, the double doors of the bedchamber burst open and Killian rushed past them, out of the reviving room, through the antechamber and out into the corridor. The two guards were frozen in shock as the Grand Duke next ran past them, shouting at Killian to stop. He paused, looked to the guards and hissed at them. “What are you two standing around for? After him, you fools!” Luther raced away, following his son, his pleas to return echoing down the hallway.

Armin and Walt took off down the hall after the Grand Duke and his son. “Halt!” Armin shouted but Killian would not listen. On and on he ran, coming to the end of the hall where he entered the winding stair case that led to the fourth level of the Palace. He raced up the steps, two at a time with Luther and the two guards close behind. Once he’d reached the fourth floor landing he darted to the right, sprinting down the hall. With a sickening revelation, Armin understood where Killian was going. He was headed for Princess Emilia’s personal apartments.

“Stop!” Armin bellowed. His voice was deep, hard, and commanding but Killian did not stop. “In the name of the Queen I order you to stop!” He shouted again.

On Killian ran, ignoring the shouts of the other men as though he hadn’t even heard them. When he made it to Emilia’s door he didn’t even try the handle, figuring it would be locked. Instead he kicked the door in with such force that it splintered then broke away. He barreled into the room, much to the horror of the ladies that were gathered in the receiving room. They protested as he barged through the room and to the door leading to Emilia’s bedchamber. One of the ladies reached out to stop him but he slapped her hand away.

Before he could even reach the chamber though, the doors were flung open and the Princess stood there, staring at Killian with a look of complete contempt.

Killian narrowed his eyes and his lips curled into an ugly scowl as he growled. “You.” His eyes began to turn red and his hands clenched into clawed fists. Blood dripped from his fists where his nails bit into his flesh.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emilia snapped at him, looking to the shattered door and the frightened ladies that had backed against the far wall, shivering against each other.

“Is it true?” Killian demanded, his voice sounding cold and demonic. “Did you kill him?”

Emilia huffed, crossing her arms at her chest as she stared at him smugly, one eyebrow raised. She pursed her lips. “I have no idea what you are talking about but I suggest you…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Killian lunged forward and grabbed her by the throat. He wrapped his icy fingers around her slender neck and squeezed, his claws sinking into her delicate flesh causing a spray of blood to hit him in the face. Emilia gasped, her scream choked off as he tightened his grip. Her hands went to her neck and she clawed at his hand, trying to force him to release her.

“I’ll kill you.” He growled then he flung her backwards, violently, tapping into all the strength he could muster. Emilia flew through the air, hitting the far wall of her bedchambers. Her head smacked against the stone with a sickening crunch. A trail of blood smeared against the wall as she slid down to the floor, shaking and whimpering as she reached back and touched her throbbing head. When she brought her hand around to her face and saw the blood she began to scream for the guards to come and help her.

“He’s gone mad!” She wailed in both fear and anger. Killian lunged for her again, screaming over and over that he was going to end her. Luther grabbed a hold of him before he could once again attack and he fought against his father with a strength he didn’t even know he had. Armin and Walt appeared beside the struggling men and it took all three to finally subdue him.

“Murderer!” Killian screamed at Emilia. “You vile, disgusting, harpy! You killed him! You killed the only man I’ve ever loved.”

“Shut your mouth you raving lunatic.” Armin sneered at him.

“How could you?” Killian continued to sob, glaring hatefully at Emilia. “Why? Why him? Why couldn’t you just kill me?” Finally, he stopped fighting and collapsed on the floor, sobbing, completely destroyed.

“You’re insane.” Emilia hissed as her ladies helped her to stand up again. “If anyone is responsible for Rowan’s death it is you. If you had never come into his life he would be alive still. You killed him. You are to blame.”

Killian looked up, his eyes red and his face blanched as all color had drained from him. He shook his head slowly. “You lie.” He groaned. “You and your bitch mother. All lies. You killed him. You’ll pay for what you’ve done. Rowan will have his revenge. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Get him out of my sight.” Emilia commanded the guards. “Lock him in the east Tower. The Queen will decide his fate in the morning.”

“Yes, Princess.” Armin pulled Killian to his feet and he and Walt dragged him out of the room. Killian did not fight or protest as he was led away. He only continued weeping and spouting accusations against Emilia and the Queen.

“Please, your Majesty.” Luther took a knee and bowed before Emilia. “Please, I beg you. Have mercy on my son. He’s not in his right mind.”

Emilia stared down at the Duke, the look on her face was one of disgust. “What happens to him now rests in my mother’s hands but if I were you, I would start making funeral arrangements.” Emilia turned away from him then and returned to her bedchambers, slamming the door closed, loudly behind her. Luther rose to his feet slowly, suddenly feeling like he’d aged a hundred years in the last ten minutes.

With his head hung in shame and worry, the Grand Duke turned, and wandered aimless out of the Princess’s apartment and back into the corridor beyond, fearing what the future held for him and his far gone son. Walking through the dreary, haunted hallway, Luther stopped and pressed a hand against the wall as a cold chill ripped through him. As soon as the Queen heard of Killian’s actions she would order his execution for sure. Luther cringed as another, terrible thought entered his mind. Once Killian was dead, what would stop the Queen from ordering Luther to be arrested as well.

He touched a hand to his throat as though checking to make sure his head was still firmly attacked to his neck. No, he couldn’t allow himself to be taken as well. Killian’s fate was sealed. There was nothing that Luther could do for him now. No amount of begging would save his life. Not after attempting to murder the Princess Emilia. Queen Caroline would never stand for that. Luther could save himself though. He could flee the Palace and return to his home in Grayholm. Once there the Queen would no longer see him as a threat.

He’d learned his lesson well and would not repeat the same mistakes. If only he’d had the sense to keep his mouth shut earlier this would never have happened. Apparently his words had come with no hindsight. Oh, well. In the future he would not allow himself to be so easily distracted. Not when a wagging tongue could cost him his life.

***

Killian sat on the edge of the bed where Armin and Walt had deposited him. The room was much smaller than he was used to but still held all of the same comforts of the guest suites. There was a bathing room to the right of the bedchamber and a small sitting room with a fire place, a table and chair where he could take meals, and one window that over looked the court yard.

The bed was large and made with sheets and a quilt that was fit for royalty. There was another fire place in the bedchamber and a small table next to the bed. There were no windows in the bedchamber but Killian didn’t mind. He had no desire to look out them anyway. Rowan’s apparition had ceased walking through the gardens or the court yard and now roamed the somber halls of the Palace. Doors would not hold him as he seemed to melt through them as easily as he melted in and out of the shadows.

Would he stop haunting Killian, he wondered. Now that the truth was out. At least, he knew the truth now. Whether anyone would believe him or not he did not know. It didn’t matter really though. He would more than likely be dead before morning. Either Rowan’s spirit would see to his demise, or the Queen herself would kill him. Now that he knew what she was capable of and what she had done, he had no doubt in his mind that he would be the next one found murdered in his bed.

He laughed bitterly as he thought, what a fitting end to his life. Struck down while peacefully asleep, oblivious to the goings on around him. He’d always imagined such a death though in his imaginings it was the angry husband of whatever Lady he’d been bedding who would murder him. Not the Queen or her spoiled shrew of a daughter. Thinking of Emilia made his blood boil. He hated her. Hated her more now than ever before. He would have killed her had his sniveling coward of a father not pulled him off.

He hated Luther too for his part in all this treachery. Luther knew. The entire time he knew what the Queen and her daughter were up to. He knew that it was Emilia, aided by her mother, who had killed Rowan. When his father had revealed the truth to Killian, he was shocked at first and then the anger sat in. Anger like he had never felt before in his life.

Luther had taken Killian by the shoulders, shaking him as he shouted at him, trying to make him see reason. The Luther pulled him away from the door, begging him to stop saying such things before someone hears. Finally, Luther had dragged Killian to the other side of the room and looked his son dead in the eye and that’s when he had told him the truth.

“This phantom you see is a product of your own imagination son, I know this to be a fact. If it were real, it would not be you that he haunted. This I know because it was not you who killed him, nor did he die by his own hand. He was murdered, as you suspect, but you are not the one that he would hold responsible!”

“What do you mean?” Killian snarled, ripping free on his father’s grasp. “Father, what do you know?”

The Grand Duke then sighed and looked to the floor. Shame and guilt washed over him and he tried to turn his face away, unable to look at Killian but Killian wouldn’t allow him to look away. He grabbed the collar of his father’s shirt and yanked him forward, again he growled, “What do you know? Tell me!”

Shaking his head, the Grand Duke revealed all that he knew. He told Killian of Rowan’s desire to escape his fate. At first he had thought of ending his life but in the end he could not go through with it. Instead, he wanted to run but did not know how. That was when Emilia came to him. She made him believe that she had wanted to help him. Not because she cared about him but because she wanted him out of the way. She gave him a vial. A drug that she promised would render him unconscious and make him appear to all that he was dead.

She had told him that it was false death though, and that he would again awaken. With the entire Palace thinking him dead, Rowan would be able to escape Basmorte and start a new life elsewhere. Rowan believed her and so he took the drug, not realizing that what she had actually given him was witches Moss. Hearing the name of the poison Killian knew at once what it was. A poison so deadly that no vampire, not even an ancient, could ever survive it. Emilia had tricked Rowan into killing himself by providing him with a poison that would surely kill him.

The deception was too much for Killian to bear. To think that Emilia had murdered Rowan simply to have Killian for her own. He was once again wracked with guilt. If he had just accepted Emilia and not pursued Rowan. Luther tried to convince him that this was not the case at all. Even had Killian accepted her, Emilia would still have killed Rowan. She and her mother had planned it all from the beginning. They wanted to overthrow the King and take the throne. To do that though, they needed Rowan out of the way. They couldn’t allow him to marry because then his husband would inherit the throne. The only solution was to kill him.

Killian narrowed his eyes at his father, tightening his grip on the man’s collar. “So, Caroline was the one who murdered the King?” He asked.

Luther nodded. “And then blamed the murder on a servant.”

Killian flung his father backward, causing the man to lose his balance and fall to the floor. “And how is it that you know all this?” Killian demanded. “What part did you have to play in all this, father?”

“The Queen needed my allegiance.” Luther told him. His lip quivered as he spoke. His head hung in shame and his eyes filled with tears. “She needed to know that the nobles would follow her once the King was dead. She knew that if she had me in her back pocket that the others would fall in line. If any were to oppose her, I was simply to sway them to her side. It wasn’t difficult. Most of the nobles hated the King. They were ready to see someone new take the throne and so they welcomed the Queen with much enthusiasm.”

“And what did she promise you?” Killian sneered. “Because I know that you would not keep her secrets without a price.”

“Please.” The Duke sobbed. “I was only thinking of you and your future.”

“Answer me!” Killian yelled. “What did she promise you?”

The Duke got to his knees, cowering before his son. “She promised me that you would one day take the throne as King with Emilia as your Queen.”

“Pig.” Killian hissed between clenched teeth. “You selfish, disgusting pig! All this just to sate your own greed.”

“And to secure your own future.” Luther protested.

“Stop.” Killian growled. “Don’t you dare say that you did any of this for me. I know how your mind works, father. You did this to elevate your own status. The irony is, you might have gotten what you wanted had I married Rowan, the King’s true heir. But no, you had to follow a false Queen, a heretic. Now, none of your plans will be seen to fruition for I’m going to bring it all down on your heads.”

“Please, I beg of you.” Luther cried out in desperation. “Forget these things that I’ve told you. You can not bring back the dead but you can live out your life in relative peace and harmony. Just stop with these ravings of ghosts and revenge. Be a good husband to your wife, swear your loyalty to the Queen, and one day you will be King.”

“What life do I have without Rowan?” His voice became softer, a hint of sorrow in his words.

“You can’t mean that you actually cared for the boy.” Luther scoffed.

“But I did.” Killian glared at him. “If I have ever loved anyone in my life it was him. But, his death has closed and blackened my heart and I will make those responsible for his death pay. I will make them pay with their lives and see their souls burn for eternity in hell.”

“You’re insane if you think you can take on the Queen.” Luther told him. His tone was scolding and cold. “The Queen is ruthless. If you challenge her, she will cut you down.”

“Perhaps I am mad.” Killian told him. “But, I’d rather be dead then live with this pain in my heart.”

Before Luther could stop him, Killian had burst through the doors of his chambers and rushed past the two guards standing outside. Luther begged him to stop, fearing what he might do, but Killian was determined to take revenge on the one responsible for the death of his beloved.

Now, here he was, locked in a tower and Emilia still lived. All Killian could do at this point was accept his fate and await his own death.

“Come to me now my love.” He whispered into the empty room. “Take your revenge. I will not fight you. Better to die by your hand than let the bitch Queen have the satisfaction.”

He lay back on the bed, folded his arms over his chest, closed his eyes, and waited. If Sheul were merciful, he would not have to wait too long.

BLOOD AND BONE

“I find that I am at a loss on how to handle this situation.” The Queen said. Her eyes were distant and cold. The news of what Lord Killian had done had shocked and distressed her but what was more upsetting was that Luther had confessed everything to his son. The man had become a liability.

“I love him still.” Emilia said, looking down sadly. “But he has threatened my life and the life of our unborn child. I will do what I must to keep my child safe.”

“Do you feel that, given the opportunity, he would attack you again?’

Emilia nodded. “Now that he knows the truth about Rowan’s death. He will not let that pass. He’s mad with wanting vengeance.”

The Queen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Then, he must be dealt with.”

“His father too.” Emilia narrowed her eyes. “He’s knows too much and the bastard can’t seem to keep his mouth closed.”

“The Grand Duke has already been dealt with.” The Queen smiled a wicked smile and looked Emilia in the eye. “He has already fled, presumably back to Grayholm. The coward that he, is fearing for his own life. He thinks once he is out of Basmorte that he is beyond my reach.”

Emilia grinned and her eyes lit up. “What have you done, mother?” She asked, eagerly.

“Let’s just say that his journey will not be an easy one. By now he should be finding himself at the mercy of a small gang of cut throats. Such a gilded carriage as his would be too great a temptation to pass up. Unfortunately for Luther Thorn, he will not survive the encounter.”

Emilia giggled as she swirled her wine cup and grinned. “How shrewd you are, mother.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow. “I too will do what I must to protect my child.” She said.

Emilia nearly scoffed at that but even she knew not to risk angering her mother. The Queen was protecting herself. Yes, she loved Emilia, but not enough to put her own life at risk. The Queen always looked out for herself first. She’d throw her own daughter to wolves if she had to. No one was safe.

“So, mother, what is the plan then, for dealing with my poor, mad, husband?”

The Queen thought a moment. A public execution might raise too many questions. He attacked the Princess and should be put to death for such an act of treason but it was the question of why he’d attacked her in the first place. It was bad enough that two of the guards had heard his accusations. If word were to get out that Killian suspected them of murdering not only Rowan but the King as well the council could step in and demand an investigation. It’s hard enough dealing with them over the matter of the runaway slave whom no one could seem to find.

Dealing with Killian would take some proper care and planning and perhaps some outside help. She tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair then turned to her daughter. “I think it’s time I once again sought the counsel of one outside of Palace dealings. One with insights far greater than my own.”

***

Not many people ventured near the Matatowan mountains. Stories of trolls and Orcs normally kept them at bay, but the mountains were not only known for trolls and Orcs as it had once been home to a great many manner of creatures. Dragons for one used to dominate the mountains from just outside of Basmorte all the way to the sea. No one really knew what happened to them. Some say they were killed, others claim they had been driven out. Another rumor was that they had simply gone into hibernation and were still there, buried deep within the bowls of the mountains, waiting for the time when they would rise up again and dominate the land.

As Queen Caroline made her way along the narrow and dusty road that led into the mountains she wasn’t worried about Dragons or even trolls. Trolls tended to keep to themselves and never came out during the day as the sun would kill them. Turn them to stone to be more precise. Even at night or the wee hours of morning before the sun rose as it was now, they were of little concern to her. Trolls weren’t the brightest of creatures and they were no match for a vampire. The Queen could have easily taken out five on her own and they never usually traveled in large groups.

Orcs were another matter all together. They were smarter and had extensive military training. They were organized and ruled by a King with a nasty temper. They hadn’t bothered the vampire Kingdom in some time, their main enemy were the elves, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t take a lone vampire hostage, especially a Queen. With King Desmond dead, if word had spread to the Orc Kingdom, they might see that as the perfect opportunity to strike, thinking Basmorte was weak without a King. Caroline was willing to take the chance though. Her need to seek advice for her current predicament outweighed the danger she was putting herself into.

Besides, even the Orc King knew enough to stay away from the north west side of the mountains where the stones were covered by black moss and serpent vines snaked along between the crevices of large stones and boulders. Queen Caroline wrapped her hooded cloak tighter around her body, concealing her from anyone who might be watching her. Small, carnivorous shrubs of dried, dead, leaves called sallywiggins scurried past her. A stoque hissed as she passed by it and overhead, carrion crows squawked and cawed as they circled the mountains.

The dirt and dust covered path the Queen took soon was replaced by a long set of winding steps that were dug into the hill side, twisting and turning up the side of the mountain. It was a long and tedious climb and more than once Caroline lost her footing, nearly tumbling back down the steps she had already climbed. Finally, after what seemed ages, the Queen reached the top of the stairs and found herself standing outside the mouth of a cave, hidden behind a thin blanket of moss and vines that hung over the entrance like a curtain.

The Queen pushed the curtain of vines to the side and entered the cave. Immediately she put her hand to her face and covered her nose and mouth. To a human, the smell would have been heavy, rancid, and disgusting. To a vampire, it was unbearable. Bones and rotting animal parts littered the floor. Vermin scurried around within the cave and thick webs hung from the ceiling with large, hairy, spiders glaring hungrily at the Queen as she passed by them. Luckily for her the things preferred their food to be living. A vampire was too close to a corpse for their liking. Still, it was unnerving having their black, soulless, eyes boring into her the way they did.

In the center of the cave was a large black pot, large enough to fit a child or small adult, boiling over a good sized fire. The sweltering heat from the fire only made the stench of the cave that more potent and whatever was boiling within the pot had it’s own sickening aroma. Caroline wouldn’t hazard a guess as to what was in the pot. She really didn’t want to know. The last time she had visited, she’d ventured a quick peek into the pot and was greeted by a severed human head with empty eye sockets and it’s mouth gaping opened in a fixed scream. She had jumped back, hitting the wall and causing a shelf of ancient books and jars of Sheul only knew what, to come crashing down on her.

This time she gave the boiling pot a wide berth and instead looked around the musty cave for the one she come to speak to. “Raven mocker?” She called out into the poisoned darkness around her. “Agren? It’s Queen Caroline of Basmorte. I need your wisdom. Please come out and speak with me.” The air around her swirled. Shadows crept along the walls and over the floor and the cob webs along the ceiling moved and swayed as if caught by a slight breeze. Something moved past her but the Queen could not see it, only feel it. It felt cold and clammy, like the very hand of death had brushed through her hair and a rancid, stinking breath slithered down her neck.

The Queen shivered. She never felt right about coming to the cave of the Raven Mocker but the old hags guidance was something she desperately needed. “Agren.” The Queen said again, her voice more stern now. “I demand you come out and speak to me.”

“The Queen demands.” A voice, shrill and inhuman came from the darkness. Wicked sounding giggles echoed off the cavern walls.

“What say the Queen?” The voice said again, sounding as though a group of people were whispering instead of just one.

“The Queen commands us.” The voice continued. Hidden within the shadows, it slinked and wriggled, coiling around her. Caroline spun around, trying to find the source of her tormentor.

“What does the Queen want?” It asked. “Speak!”

“I-I’m in need of your guidance. You told me once that when the King died all of Basmorte would rejoice and finally be free of the King’s tyranny. You told me that my daughter would one day be Queen and we would become unstoppable and that no realm would ever destroy us. Well, now I am Queen and the King is dead but I am faced with a new problem. My daughter’s husband, Lord Killian. He’s gone mad. I think he plots to kill my daughter and maybe myself as well.”

Caroline pulled her hood back as something unseen whipped past her and whispers swirled around her spouting incoherently. She cringed as something that felt like gnarled fingers grazed her cheek. “Please.” She continued with a shaky voice. “What am I to do with Lord Killian?”

“Death.” An icy wind blew past her face and with it brought a child like whisper.

“But, if he dies…”

“His death will mark the beginning of the end.” The voice crooned.

“Or the end of the beginning.” A second voice added.

Caroline narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“The Queen.” The voices hissed around her. “The Queen is troubled.”

“Not the Queen for long.” Another, older sounding voice said. It had the creak of an old and worn woman with one foot in the grave.

“What do you mean?” Caroline stammered, turning around to look for the source of the voice.

“Three winds come.” The voice of the crone crowed out from within the darkness.

“The first brings suffering and pain.” The voice of a woman in her prime spoke next. This voice was calm and soothing though there was a hint of sadness behind her words.

“Lies and betrayal.” The three voices murmured in unison.

“The second wind brings change.” A third voice hummed. This one of a young girl, barely out of youth. A child’s voice.

“Change?” Caroline furrowed her brow. “What kind of change? Good change?”

“The Queen knows not.” The voices spoke in unison again. “The Queen sees only what she wants.”

“Tell me!” Caroline demanded. “Tell me what I want to know.”

“Death.” The voice of the hag said, once more. The darkness and malice in the voice sent shivers down Caroline’s spine. It was eerie and malevolent. Ancient and cold. “The third wind brings death. Death to those who oppose the true Queen.”

Caroline grinned at the crone’s words. “Death to those who oppose me?” That was what Caroline had come to hear. The witch’s prophecy had not changed. With Caroline as Queen, Basmorte would become more powerful than ever. No one could overthrow her and the vampire’s would once again be the most powerful race in all the realms. Emilia would one day be Queen when Caroline decided to abdicate the throne or passed away, and her bloodline would forever rule.

She pulled her hood back up over her head and then reached into her pocket and pulled out three pieces of silver that she tossed on the ground. “I thank you for your council.” She said then turned to leave the cave.

“But, the Queen should beware.” It was the crone who spoke now and Caroline turned to look again into the blackness of the cave,

“Beware? Of what?” She practically laughed at the old witch. “What do I have to fear?”

“The child.” Came the crone’s voice more.

Caroline scowled. “What child?”

The shadows swirled around her once more and as they did they seemed to gather in the center of the cave, growing darker and more menacing as a figure seemed to form before the Queen’s very eyes. As she watched, the Queen saw the shadows form into a long and tattered, black cloak. It was covered in moss and cob webs and from within the cloak she began to see a face take shape. It was a hideous face. Grotesquely twisted and wrinkled with age. The skin of the face was as green as the moss that surrounded the cave and the eyes were as black as coal.

The aged and withered thing before her had a hooked nose and thin lips that curled back over blacked and yellowed teeth. Stringy, gray and white strands of thinning hair fell across the things eyes, hanging down past it’s lips. Caroline could only assume it was a woman because the cloak it wore revealed nothing of it’s body. It moved slowly, it’s bones creaking and cracking as it bent down and scooped up the coins in it gnarled, claw like, hand. It slowly stood up again though it’s back was permanently hunched and it’s entire body seemed contorted as it moved and shambled forward, it’s feet dragging along the cave floor.

It was within inches of Caroline when it opened it’s mouth-a black, hollow, hole of a mouth-and screamed. Caroline put her hands to her ears and cringed away from the monstrous thing. She gagged when the rancid breath of the creature reached her nose and she very nearly vomited on the ground. The creature closed it’s mouth and cackled then slowly reached out it’s withered hand to touch Caroline. Caroline pulled away, disgusted by the very thought of the thing touching her. “What do you want?” Caroline hissed. “I’ve given you your payment.”

“Only to warn you.” The crone coughed and sputtered. Black sludge leaked from her mouth and over her rotting lips.

“Warn me of what?” Caroline asked, moving farther from the old hag and closer to the mouth of the cave.

“The child of tuatha comes to us from far beyond the stars. In night and day he makes his way and carries with him all his scars.”

Out of the darkness another figured emerged. This one a woman, fair complected and beautiful with fire red hair wearing a n emerald chiton. A gold ringlet circled her arm and to her right was a small child, holding the woman’s hand as she clung to her skirts. The child looked to be barely twelve years. A child on the verge of maiden hood. The woman she clung to was clearly her mother.

“At his feet the children of the mound will rise up to take your head. And when the light from the morning sun washes over your body, all that you love shall be dead.” The mother spoke in her same, sad, soothing tones but her eyes were black as pitch and her words were dark and haunting.

The child, an impish looking thing with sickly yellow eyes rimmed in black opened her mouth and out of it came the shrill voice not of a child but a flock of a hundred cawing crows. Blood poured from her mouth and again Caroline heard that ear-splitting, demonic giggle.

“Be warned. ” The crone said again. “If the child breaches the castle walls, you will not survive.”

“What child is this?” Caroline asked, growing more frantic. “The child of the tuatha? The tribes of the Gods? No such child has existed for a thousand years.”

“The child was born of the children of the mound.” The mother said. “And is blessed by the Goddess Morrigu.”

“The children of the mound.” Caroline furrowed her brow and sneered. “The Fae.” She looked to the crone and growled. “I will end the Fae. Not one within the walls of Basmorte shall live!”

“Be warned.” The three spoke in unison as they began to fade back into the darkness. “One who seeks death, shall find it.”

The shadows slithered away like snakes crawling up the cavern walls and Caroline was again, alone. “No Fae shall be my undoing.” She whispered. “If death they seek, death they shall have.”

UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTERS

Thaden awoke as the first trace of sunlight stretched out over the trees and began to chase away the darkness. He lay upon the straw covered ground, Rowan’s head resting on his chest, his fingers playing with the ends of his raven hair. Rowan was already awake, lying beside Thaden, curled into his body. Thaden sat up and yawned, looking to his mate.

“Did you sleep at all?” Thaden asked him.

“A bit.” Rowan lied. In truth, he hadn’t slept at all. Partly because he was worried that the dryads might attack them in the night and partly because he couldn’t get the old dryad’s words out of his head. For years, centuries even, vampires had enslaved the Fae. The great war prevented them from raiding more villages and kidnapping innocent children of farmers but the ones left behind, those born into captivity, they remained slaves. Abused and in some cases, even killed.

For nineteen years Rowan had servants catering to his every need. From the moment his mother had given birth to him, until the night Folen helped him escape, having servants had been a part of his life. To him, it had seemed normal. He’d been blind to all their suffering because he’d been taught that vampires were superior to all and the other races existed simply to serve. He’d never actually agreed with that but he never did anything to change it either.

The shame and guilt weighed heavily on him for allowing such atrocities to take place under his nose all the while he feigned ignorance. Rowan had never considered himself spoiled, far from it. He wasn’t some pampered palace brat that got everything he asked for, not like Emilia. His presence was tolerated but he wasn’t showered with expensive gifts or gilded robes. His rooms weren’t even as extravagant as the guests suites. He was given enough to keep the council off his father’s back and that was all. So, he certainly wasn’t spoiled. But, now that he actually stopped to think about it, he realized with a sinking heart that, perhaps he had, in fact, been a little spoiled.

Being the son of the King had given him certain liberties and privileges that others did not have. He was never without food or shelter. He had fine clothing and had had a basic education. He could read and write and do numbers which was more than most of the common children were taught. Certainly more than any slave was allowed. The King had been cold and even somewhat cruel but Rowan still had a comfortable life. He didn’t have to do hard, back breaking work in the scorching heat. He didn’t have to cook his own meals or even clean his own rooms. Everything was always done for him and he never once thought about the servants that worked long hours.

He never considered how exhausting their lives were. How their lives were not even their own. He never considered how oppressed they must have felt. Though none of them complained, he could only imagine how they must have resented their lives…and their masters. They were treated little better than animals. They were overlooked, forgotten, and ignored. Other than Folen, Rowan couldn’t even recall the names of most of the palace servants. They came and went and Rowan walked past them not giving them a second thought. How many of them had families? He wondered. How many had children? If they did have children, were they safe at home with their parents or had they been sold off to another Lord or Lady to work in their homes?

Slaves were sold and traded like cattle. It was possible that many of the children did not even know who their parents were. Once they had been snatched away and forced to work in the household of another, it was unlikely that they would ever see their families again. It was a horrible life these people had to live and in all the years that Rowan had spent at the Palace, he had disregarded all of them. He knew that they were not paid servants. They didn’t own land or homes of their own. The Palace servants were lumped together in a kind of dorm room with rows of straw stuffed mattresses cramped together on damp floors in a poorly heated room.

He knew all this and still, he did nothing. In a way he was just as bad as his father. Worse, as the old dryad had said. His father may have been the monster that enslaved the Fae, but Rowan was just as responsible for allowing it to happen. Instead of staying and fighting for what was right, he ran away. He was never meant to rule but that didn’t make the weight of his position any less hard to bear. All of his life he had made excuses for his inability to stand up to his father. In the end, it was fear that kept his silence. Plain and simple. He was scared and so kept hidden in the shadows while those around him suffered for his insecurities.

“Well, we should probably head out.” Thaden told him as he helped Rowan to his feet. “We’ll catch something to eat once we’re back on the road.

Rowan nodded, silently though the thought of food didn’t sit well with him. He was hungry, but he felt sick to his stomach. Sick with worry. He knew his stomach wouldn’t settle until they were well away from the dryad village and closer to their destination. At least then he knew they would be safe. The forest had too many hidden dangers, too many prying eyes, and Rowan felt like all those eyes, were on him.

***

They were less than a days ride away from Ansonia. They could reach it by early evening if they didn’t stop to rest at all. Rowan was happy to ride straight through without stopping. In fact, he’d have preferred it. He was weary of traveling and ready to settle down someplace safe. As he sat atop Shadow dancer with Thaden behind him, Rowan counted the days since he’d escaped Basmorte. He’d been gone almost two weeks. It seemed longer. The days and nights he’d spent on the road had begun to run into each other. The Inn they had stayed at had been the longest he’d stayed in one place since running. The rest of the time before and after had become a blur of forests and wild, untamed land.

Rowan loved the forests, he loved nature in general, but he was beginning to miss the simple, quiet, little farms he had passed when first entering Rosegate. He missed the rolling hills and open fields of wild flowers. Even the dirt road they followed was better than traveling through the heavy wooded areas, beneath a canopy of the fall colored leaves that had not yet fallen from the trees that towered above them. Any other time Rowan would have thought the changing leaves to be beautiful and he would have welcomed the shade they offered from the blinding sun. Not now though. Now they seemed more ominous, and he shivered whenever they drew too close.

Ever since leaving the dryad village Rowan had been on edge. It could have been just that he was in unfamiliar territory but he wasn’t sure. There was just this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him they weren’t alone. Thaden didn’t seem off put at all in fact he appeared completely at ease with their surroundings. Rowan knew that Thaden had visited Ansonia in the past so maybe that was why he didn’t seem worried but it still unnerved Rowan. Rowan was a stranger traveling through Fae country and the Fae were not very welcoming to strangers. They were tricksters. Some were mischievous but overall non-threatening however, there were others that were malevolent. There was no other way to describe them. They were just evil, little, monsters.

As the mid day sun beat down on them Thaden brought the horse to a slow halt. Rowan turned to look at him, slightly panicked.

“What are we doing?” He asked.

“Stopping for a rest.” Thaden told him. “If I remember correctly, there should be a small stream, just over that hill.”

“Shouldn’t we keep going?” Rowan was growing uneasy. They were too exposed where they were. Though they hadn’t seen another rider all day, Rowan had the distinct feeling that they were being followed.

Thaden dismounted then took the reigns in his hands and began to lead the horse up the small hill in front of them. “Shadow needs water and so do we.” Thaden told him, nodding towards the empty wine skins. “Besides, you look like your about to fall over from exhaustion.”

Rowan sighed. “It’s the sun.” He said. His tone telling Thaden that Rowan was disgusted by his own vulnerabilities. “This is my natural time for sleeping but, I can still go on.”

“No.” Thaden said quickly and with a stern look at his mate. “You need to rest.”

Rowan was about to protest but the look in Thaden’s eyes had him clamping his mouth shut quickly, and with a slight smirk. As irritating as Thaden’s overly protective nature was, Rowan still found it quite endearing. No one other than his own mother or Folen had ever been so concerned for Rowan’s well being. The fact that Thaden cared so much made Rowan fall in love with him even more.

When they reached the small stream that Thaden had mentioned, Rowan was taken aback by the beauty of the stream and the surrounding landscape. In the short time he had been away from Basmorte, Rowan’s eyes had been opened to a vast new world that he never even knew existed. A world that was far from the dreary, misty, and shadowy realm of Basmorte where the sun hardly ever seemed to shine. A world that wasn’t dwarfed by the imposing mountains that surrounded it. What he was looking at now was a hidden world of vibrant colors, sunlit flowers, and crystal blue waters.

Thaden helped Rowan down from the horse and after a moment of stretching his back and legs, Rowan walked to the edge of the stream and looked down, peering into the water. It was so clear that he could see the sandy bed beneath and the tiny, shimmering, rocks that littered the bottom. Tiny fish swam by faster than Rowan had ever seen any fish swim and he giggled at the sight of it. Dipping his fingers into the water he began to swish the liquid around, playfully. It was so cold but also so refreshing. He could imagine what it would be like to bathe in the water on a particularly hot day. If it weren’t the middle of autumn, he might very well had stripped off his clothing and jumped in.

“Are you done?” Thaden chuckled from behind him.

Rowan looked up at him and smiled. “Sorry.” He blushed. “I’ve just never seen water so clear before.”

“Are there no mountain streams in Basmorte?” He questioned.

Rowan nodded. “There are but after arriving at the Palace I was never permitted to travel into the mountains. The farthest away from the Palace I had ever been was to a small farm right outside the city. There was a small pond near the farm but it was night and the waters looked gray and murky. When the Palace guards found me wandering the woods I was never permitted outside the Palace walls without an escort again.”

“You ran away?” Thaden smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was…exploring.” Rowan stood up and brushed his tunic off.

“Exploring?”

Rowan grinned. “I wasn’t as well behaved as you might think. I was quite the little imp as a child.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” Thaden forced back a smile as he pictured a younger and more mischievous Rowan. “I’m sure you were a hellion.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” Rowan chuckled. “Though my nurse said I had quite the knack for vanishing at bath time when I was very young. Apparently I preferred to be covered in dirt and mud all day.”

Thaden laughed at that. Imagining Rowan covered in mud was an amusing thought. Especially since his mate always seemed so proper and dignified. He would have loved to have seen the young Prince defiantly playing in a mud puddle while his nurse ran after him, attempting to clean the child.

“I bet you were absolutely adorable as a child.” Thaden told him. He led Shadow dancer to the waters edge and let her drink as he walked over to Rowan, lifted his hands to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Not that you’re not adorable now.” He said, kissing him again and causing Rowan to blush. “But I can just imagine you running naked through a field of wild flowers with your nurse chasing you down.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “I never ran away naked.” He said, then paused as a slight smirk played across his pink lips. “Okay, maybe once or twice, but I was barely out of my clouts.”

Thaden pulled Rowan towards him, wrapping his arms around his mate then he lightly slapped his ass. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you run around naked right now.” He said with a grin.

Rowan rolled his eyes and chuckled. “You, Sir, are positively obscene.”

“Only when it comes to you.” Thaden whispered before nibbling at Rowan’s ear lobe. “When it comes to you, my love, I can think of so many obscene things. Like you writhing beneath me, completely naked, as your moans fill the air.”

“Umm.” Rowan smiled, his eyes half closed as he ran his hand along Thaden’s back. “That sounds wonderful, actually.” He pushed himself up on his tip toes and then pressed his lips to Thaden and kissed him, slow and passionately.

Thaden’s hands rested at the curve of Rowan’s back as he pressed their bodies closer together. Opening his mouth, his slipped his tongue inside Rowan’s mouth and deepened the kiss. Rowan moaned against him and Thaden’s hand slid down to cup his ass. He squeezed, kneading the soft flesh beneath his fingers and Rowan moaned again.

Thaden could have kissed him forever. He never wanted to let Rowan go. He could imagine laying him down in the thick green grass atop a bed of colorful wild flowers and making love to him well into the night. He would fall asleep with Rowan in his arms with nothing but the sounds of nature and the rushing stream around them. He had almost suggested doing just that when Rowan suddenly tensed and pulled away. His eyes darted around the opened area, narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“What is it?” Thaden asked, growing a bit concerned.

Rowan sniffed the air and a small growl escaped him as his eyes narrowed in on a tiny grove of flowering trees about fifteen feet to their right. “We’re not alone.” He said, his voice becoming low and dangerous. “I could have sworn that someone or something’s been following us. Now I’m certain of it.” He nodded in the direction of the trees. “It’s just there. Hidden behind that small bush.”

Thaden, moving his hand to rest over the hilt of his sword, stepped away from Rowan and slowly towards the bush that Rowan had pointed out.

“Be careful.” Rowan whispered.

Thaden nodded then held a hand up for Rowan to be silent. Thaden, keeping his eyes on the bush, stopped about two feet from it and then said, in his most commanding voice, “Whoever you are, I suggest that you come out now and make yourself known.”

The bush trembled as something behind it moved. Thaden waited patiently, hand still gripping the hilt of his sword, for the thing to do as he’d instructed. It only took a couple brief seconds before the spy had decided to give up, now that it had been made, and stepped out from behind the bush.

Thaden’s hand left his sword and he relaxed some as he looked down at the creature that had been stalking them. Rowan had to put a hand to his mouth to stifle the gasp that escaped him. Thaden smirked then raised an eyebrow as he peered down at their little, uninvited, guest.

“So, you’re the spy that’s been frightening my mate.” He said with a slight chuckle. “I’ll admit, I was expecting something a bit more…intimidating.”

“Thaden, is that…” Rowan could barely get the words out. He was too in shock as to what he was actually seeing. Thaden looked back to him and nodded. “I believe so.” He said.

“How?” Rowan asked.

Thaden knelt down to be on eye level with the little one so he could look her over. When he was certain that his first assessment was true he sighed and shook his head. “What is your name?” He asked the child before him.

At first she didn’t answer. Her eyes kept darting between Thaden and Rowan. She looked terrified but also curious. By the way she watched Rowan, Thaden had an idea that the child wasn’t quite sure what he was but desperately trying to figure it out.

“I don’t think she’s ever seen a vampire before.” Thaden told him.

Rowan frowned. “Then we’re even. I’ve never seen a human before.”

Thaden smiled then turned back to the girl. “You needn’t fear him, little one. He won’t harm you. Please, tell me your name.”

The child hesitated a moment then, in a tiny voice said, “Tallulah.”

“Tallulah.” Thaden repeated the name back to her. “Well, Tallulah, It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Thaden and the man behind me is Rowan, my mate.”

Rowan nodded to the girl though still too shocked to speak.

Tallulah shifted uneasily on her bare feet as she wound a strand of long, yellow hair, around her finger, watching both the men cautiously. “H-hello.” She said softly and with a shaky voice.

Rowan watched in disbelief. He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how a human child could be there, in the middle of Fae territory, and so far from Millbarrow. The child barely looked eight years old, far too young to be wandering around the country side without her parents. If she even had parents. Rowan wondered about that as well. Had something happened to her parents that left her abandoned and fending for herself? If so, what were they even doing there?

The child seemed so small and frail. Her hair was unwashed and badly in need of a combing and her face and hands were covered in dirt. The dress she wore was entirely too small and hugged her tiny frame uncomfortably close. It was even torn in places as well as being dingy and stained. Her bare feet were also caked in dirt and mud and her fingernails had dirt beneath them as if she’d been digging in the earth.

Rowan took a step towards her but the girl gasped and took two steps back, causing Rowan to freeze where he was, not wanting to frighten the girl further.

“Tell me.” Thaden spoke, keeping his voice soft and kind. “Where are your parents?”

The girl just stared at him.

“Do you have parents?” He asked, though he was fairly certain that he already knew the answer to that. When the girl shook her head he sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s as I’ve feared.” He said, turning to look at Rowan. “I believe she’s a changeling babe.”

“A what?” Rowan narrowed his eyes, confused.

“A changeling babe.” Thaden explained. “Sometimes, a Fae will snatch up a human child and leave a Fae child in it’s place. The human child will then be brought back here, to our world, and the Fae child will grow up as a human. It’s a dreadful practice and one that needs to end. It’s not allowed in Rosegate but Ansonia has no laws against it.”

“Why?” Rowan stared at him, the disgust clear on his face. He couldn’t imagine doing such a thing to a child. “Why would anyone do that? To rob a child of their parents? It’s barbaric. And what of their own child? Can they so easily just give up their child?”

Thaden shrugged as he stood back up. “They do it for many reasons. None of them justified. But it’s been happening for thousands of years.”

“So, this child, this human child, was brought here while her parents are raising a Fae child in her place?”

Thaden nodded. “And her parents know no better. They would have been switched in infancy.”

“Then, who cared for this child?” Rowan asked, growing more confused by the minute.

“Probably the ones who originally took her, though, I wouldn’t say they cared for her, per say. They fed her and kept her relatively safe. When they felt that she was old enough to fend for herself, they probably abandoned her.”

Rowan shook his head in disgust. “Why take her in the first place if they didn’t want her?”

“It was never about her.” Thaden told him, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Their goal was to get a child of theirs in the human world, for whatever reason. The child could have been ill or in danger, and they felt it would fare better out of our realm. They might plan for it one day to mate with a human so the changelings future children would look more human. Then there are some Fae that thrive on misery and pain they cause to others.”

Thaden looked to the child and sighed, giving her a wan smile. “Fate doesn’t always look kindly on the human who was taken though because in many cases the ones who took it don’t know what to do with it. More often than not they end up abandoned, or dead.”

Rowan looked to the small girl and immediately tears sprang to his eyes. “Could…could we take her back? To Millbarrow I mean. Leave her on a farm or something where a kind couple could find her?”

Thaden shook his head. “We have no idea how long she’s been here. Once a human is exposed to our world, they can’t ever go back. Here, a mere eight years have passed for her but, in the Human world, it could have been a hundred.”

“So, if we returned her, she could die?”

Thaden nodded. “Time would catch up to her. Her body could wither and she’d die. Or, she could gain the body of a grown woman but retain the mind of a child. There is no way to tell for sure. I just know the outcome usually isn’t good.”

Rowan sighed. His omega instincts telling him to care for and nurture the child. He was unwilling to just leave her there, defenseless. If he’d learned anything on this journey it was that everything happened for a reason. If he had crossed paths with this child, it was because he was meant to, and he wasn’t about to ignore that. “We have to take her with us.” Rowan said. To his surprise Thaden just smiled and nodded. He didn’t even seemed shocked that Rowan would suggest such a thing.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Thaden told him. “She’s much too young to be on her own. We’ll take her into Ansonia and then decide what to do with her from there.”

Rowan smiled. “Thank you.” He said, then wrapped his arms around Thaden and kissed him. “You, my love, are a true Prince.”

Thaden chuckled. “As long as I’m your Prince, that’s all that matters.”

***

They stayed for a short rest before moving on. Of course, Rowan had to clean Tallulah up a bit before they left. He washed her off the best he could in the stream. The water was cool but the child didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed grateful to be cleaned. Rowan even did his best to wash her hair though without any soap it wasn’t that easy. He had to remind himself that not many commoners even had the luxury of using soap or scented oils and lotions. Well, that was something he planned to indulge in once they reached the Palace in Ansonia.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much that Rowan could do about the girl’s dress. He obviously didn’t carry children’s clothing around with him and he had no time nor needle and thread to sew her anything proper to wear. That was another thing he planned to remedy once they made it to Ansonia.

Even before Thaden had hoisted Tallulah up onto the horse, Rowan had so many plans of how he was going to spoil the child once they made it to the Fae Kingdom. He imagined the warm greeting they would receive and then the feast that would follow. At night, they would sleep in an actual bed with silk sheets and a down comforter. In the morning, Thaden could scout out a cottage for them to set up house keeping. Maybe they would even find one big enough that they could keep Tallulah with them.

Rowan wasn’t sure how Thaden would feel about that but Rowan was going to bring it up to him. If no one else wanted the child, Rowan saw no reason why they couldn’t keep her and raise her as their own. It would certainly be better than letting her fend for herself in the wild. By the time Rowan had climbed up on the horse behind the child, he’d already made up his mind to keep her. It was as if his instincts to mother the child had taken over and he wasn’t about to let go of her now. He just hoped that Thaden wouldn’t object.

Tallulah was nervous getting up on Shadow dancer at first but once Rowan was seated securely behind her, she seemed to ease up a bit more. Thaden squeezed in behind them, scooting closer to Rowan than he had before. Rowan couldn’t say that he minded but it was a tight squeeze. Luckily Shadow was a large horse, able to easily take the extra weight. Not that Tallulah weighed that much at all. She was tiny. Tiny, and quiet. The girl hardly spoke at all. She was hyper vigilant though, her eyes darting around as they rode down the dirt road. Any little sound made her tense and more than once she pressed herself in, against Rowan, as if trying to hide against him.

“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked her, growing a bit concerned. Tallulah peered up at him, her expression worrisome. She was scared. When he pressed further, she put her finger to her lips to quiet him. “They’re watching.” She said in a barely audible whisper.

Rowan looked to Thaden, questioningly. Thaden shrugged.

“Who’s watching?” Thaden asked her.

She hesitated a moment, as if saying would draw out the very thing she feared but after a moment she finally whispered, “The wee men with red hats.”

Thaden groaned hearing what the girl said and Rowan could tell by the way Thaden’s muscles suddenly tensed that he didn’t like what he’d heard. “Blood caps.” Thaden told him when he saw the confusion on Rowan’s face.

“What are blood caps?” Rowan asked.

“They’re a type of goblin known for attacking travelers heading into Ansonia. They’re small but wicked fast and can be very dangerous if you’re caught. They’ve been known to kill in large numbers. You can spot them by the red caps they wear. They’re said to be dipped in the blood of their victims.”

Rowan looked down at Tallulah, snuggled against him. No wonder the child was so scared. He wondered how she had managed to survive so long with creatures like blood caps running around.

“How do we avoid them?” Rowan asked.

“Ride fast.” Thaden said with a sigh. “And hope they don’t follow.”

Rowan cringed. He didn’t like the sound of that. He’d never heard of blood caps before but they didn’t sound like anything he’d care to meet. Especially not during the day when he was at his weakest and there were no shadows to conceal him. He felt exposed and helpless. Not a feeling he cared for at all but there was nothing he could do. Nightfall wouldn’t be for several more hours and they’d likely reach Ansonia by then. If nothing happened to them before they made it that far that was.

Fortunately, the goblins didn’t seem overly interested in the three travelers. Other then being pelted by small stones at one point, they were otherwise left alone. After the first assault, Shadow dancer reared up and then slammed her hooves down hard on the road with an angry snort. The stones dropped and there was a slight rustling in the trees and bushes and then everything went quiet once more. Rowan snickered. “I think she scared them away.”

Thaden nodded. “Blood caps don’t like horses, especially black ones. There are black demon horses that tend to eat them but they rarely come out during the day.”

“Demon horses?” Rowan knew he should be frightened by such a thing but instead he found himself intrigued. He pictured a sleek, black, horse with red eyes running through the night under a full moon. Instead of frightening, he found the image in his head to be quite beautiful. “Do you think we might see one on our journey?”

Thaden snorted. “Let us hope not.”

Rowan sulked down into the saddle and Thaden chuckled. “Don’t romanticize them, my love. Their fearsome creatures and quite deadly, no matter how beautiful they may seem.”

“It’s just…” Rowan sighed.

“What?”

“You’ve seen so much of the world. I’ve seen nothing. I’m only now beginning to see all the things I’ve missed out on. You must think me so naive and ignorant of the world.”

“No.” Thaden shook his head. “I just think you’ve lived a very sheltered life. By no fault of your own, of course. But it no longer has to be that way and you have an entire lifetime ahead of you to experience all the things that your father has kept from you.”

Rowan smiled and lay his head back against Thaden’s chest. “You always know the right things to say.” He murmured.

“You’re my mate.” Thaden reminded him. “It’s my purpose in life to keep you happy.”

***

Tallulah, who Rowan had affectionately began referring to as Tally, had fallen asleep against Rowan’s chest about an hour into their journey. He couldn’t blame her really. The rhythmic movements of the horse’s steady foot steps on the road was enough to put Rowan to sleep as well but he knew he had to stay awake and vigilant. The child in his arms depended on him to keep her safe.

Rowan kept a protective arm around her small frame, tightening his grip on her when she would start to sway to either side. They stopped only twice to rest, stretch, and refill their skins. By the time the sun had begun to dip down past the tree line, Thaden had steered the horse off the main road and onto a smaller trail leading into the forest. Tally began to stir as the sky darkened and she was met with the sounds of crickets chirping, an owl hooting in the distance, and the all the sounds of night coming alive around her.

Rowan smiled as he took in all the sounds and saw the shadows once more converge around him as though coming to greet him like a long lost friend. He was in his element now and as the forest awoke around him, so did his senses. He sniffed the air, taking in the subtle differences around him. A rodent scurried by on his right and above him a black bird fluttered past. Floral aromas rose up around him and many of them he didn’t recognize. It was as if they were entering another world entirely and to Rowan, it was beautiful.

As they entered the forest path, the trees began to line the path as though specifically guiding them on their way. The leaves overhead shielded them from the darkening sky but Rowan could still make out tiny specks of amber light peaking between the many leaves overhead. It was maybe twenty minutes before the trees began to thin and Rowan saw that they were entering a clearing of sorts. That’s all he could think to call it though it wasn’t completely clear, strange trees that resembled toad stools, though much larger, sprang up around them along with radiant, glowing flowers, of white and celestial blue that littered the forest floor. Light orbs danced around in a thick mist that covered the entire area and up ahead Rowan could hear the sound of running water.

Before long, the dirt path had diverged onto a stone road framed by the odd flowers he had seen in the clearing. The road led up a small hill to a stone bridge that allowed them to pass over the flowing stream that Rowan had heard earlier. Shadow dancer trotted along happily but Thaden was suddenly hyper aware of their surroundings. It was around this time that Tally also began to wake. Her eyes went wide as she seemed to recognize where they were and Thaden brought the horse to an almost slow crawl. He seemed nervous, almost hesitant as he looked around the area. Rowan could guess as to his unease.

They had entered what looked like a small village of oddly structured homes made of various materials that ranged from wood and straw to moss covered stone dwellings that seemed to be carved right into the side of a small mountain. The stone road continued to wind around the center of the village and then branch off with one side leading to the carved structures and the other side leading to what looked like a row of houses built into large trees. Beneath the massive trees were small houses, far to small for a regular sized man or woman to enter. Even Tally would have had a hard time entering one.

Some were constructed of the same toad stool like trees they had passed earlier though much smaller, standing at around two to three feet tall. Others looked oddly like four feet tall pine cones with tiny porches built right onto the fronts of them. It was all very strange but Rowan found it also kind of adorable. The only thing that really gave him pause, and could be the source of Thaden’s unease, was the fact that despite the village seeming well kept and with an obvious lived in look, it appeared to be deserted.

Rowan looked at Thaden with confusion. “Where are the inhabitants?” He asked.

Thaden took a moment to scan the area before softly answering, “They’re here. Just hidden.”

Rowan turned back towards the village. The entire area was shrouded in the thick mist that covered the forest floor. The sky was dark now and the only lights that could be seen were from the orbs floating around. Rowan had an eerie feeling looking at those orbs. Something about them just seemed off.

“What is this place?” Rowan asked. “Another village on the way to Ansonia?”

“This is Ansonia.” Thaden told him.

“This?” Rowan’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought Ansonia was an entire Kingdom, not a tiny village.”

Thaden chuckled as he drew the horse to a stop in the center of the village. He quickly hopped down and then tied the horse off in front of a medium sized building that seemed to be at the heart of the village. “Ansonia is a Kingdom. It’s a Fae Kingdom though. They have no need for extravagance, preferring to live simpler and more secluded lives.”

As Thaden helped Tally and then Rowan down from the horse, Rowan took the time to once more glance around at their surroundings. Ansonia was a far cry from what he had originally thought it would be. Gone were his illusions of sleeping in a large bed, bathing in a proper tub of heated and scented water, or partaking of a large feast. It was all so underwhelming and he was admittedly a bit disappointed.

“Come.” Thaden said, extending his hand with a smile. “We walk to the Palace from here.”

Rowan took his hand, allowing Thaden to lead him through the quiet streets. Tally kept close to Rowan’s side, clutching at his cloak as she glanced nervously around them. Rowan looked down at her with concern. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked the child.

Tally looked up at him, her eyes full of fear, then pressed her face into the hem of his tunic. “Do you know this place?” Rowan asked her.

Tally nodded. “The little people brought me here.” She whispered against him. “They put me in a cage.” She shivered as tears filled her eyes. Rowan looked up at Thaden questioningly but Thaden only shrugged.

“Keep her close.” Thaden told him. “We have no idea what they’re reaction to her will be.”

“If they’ve hurt her…” Rowan began but Thaden put his hand up to silence him. “Remember, little fox, we’re not alone. You may not see anyone, but that doesn’t mean they’re not listening.”

Rowan nodded in understanding. He’d keep his thoughts to himself for now. There was no telling how the Fae would react to any of them arriving unannounced in their Kingdom.

***

The Fae Palace was a large stone structure that resembled a head that was jutting out from the side of the mountain. Two large crescent shaped windows resembled eyes that looked out over the entire village. The door was a large, gaping, mouth that seemed frozen in a timeless scream. A stone staircase that was moss covered and nearly hidden beneath wild grass and flowers led up the mountain to the gaping mouth of the palace.

Rowan expected there to be guards stationed at the entrance but there were none. Only more of the glowing orbs. As they approached the entry way, a bluish light flickered from within and Rowan suddenly understood. The Palace was guarded by magic. Thaden stopped just before the entrance and looked towards the floating orbs who now seemed to collect right in front of the three weary travelers.

“We’ve come to seek an audience with King Vorigan.” Thaden said, speaking to the orbs. “I am Prince Thaden of Rosegate and my companion is Price Rowan of Basmorte.”

The orbs swirled around for a moment then, to Rowan’s surprise, parted like a bright, shimmering, curtain and allowed the three to enter. Thaden bowed to the orbs, thanked them and then took the lead, walking slowly and cautiously inside. Rowan stepped in behind him, Tally still clinging to his cloak.

The inside of the ‘mouth’ opened to a short corridor that led into a spacious room, presumably within the center of the mountain. The Palace, Rowan could tell, was more like a keep than a castle. The one room he could see was nearly empty of furniture save for a stone throne that was sat near the back of the room on a raised, stone, dais. There was a door to the left that Rowan could see led to a stairwell that winded downward. Into what he could not tell because it was black as pitch past the first several steps. Other than that one door, there seemed to be no other rooms leading off from the main one.

The room was oddly scare of people as well. Unlike Basmorte or even Rosegate where many people would have filled the main hall, this room only held four people. Rowan couldn’t even see any guards or servants standing around. Thaden took Rowan’s hand and led him to the front where they both bowed before the four people seated on the dais. Beside the throne was another, smaller, chair where a beautiful young woman sat staring at the three visitors. Her face was blank and unreadable. To her right were two stools and on each of them sat a pair of youths, one male and one female. They were so similar in looks that they could have been twins.

Like the woman, whom Rowan assumed was their mother, the youths had light, pink, hair and large blue eyes. They were fair complected with rosy cheeks and red lips. Each were small in frame and not very tall. Even their parents were small and slight, resembling older children rather than adults. On the throne, a man sat, leaning to one side with his arm propped on the arm rest of the throne. He had light blond, almost white hair and a short, neatly trimmed, white beard. A crown made of vines sat upon his head and he was dressed in green and brown clothing with a long, fur lined, cloak hanging over one shoulder.

The woman as well as the two youths were also dressed in soft, earthy tones that matched the rustic village outside. Their attire was simple but elegant and the gowns the females wore were befitting of noble women of court. The man on the throne waved his hand for Thaden and his companions to rise and as Thaden stood, he locked eyes with the man.

“King Vorigan.” Thaden greeted the King. “I am Prince Thaden of Rosegate.”He turned and motioned for Rowan to take a step forward. “And this is my mate, Prince Rowan of Basmorte. We’ve come to seek sanctuary from our home lands and ask permission to cross through Ansonia and into Pickaway village.”

King Vorigan raised an eyebrow as he listened to Thaden speak. A small smirked played across his thin lips and he straightened up in his throne as though suddenly taking an interest in what the elven Prince had just said. “Pickaway village you say.” He let the words fall lazily from his mouth as he stroked his beard in contemplation. “What business have you there?” He asked.

“Nothing of an official nature.” Thaden explained. “My mate and I merely wish to build a home together. A life where our union will be accepted and we can live in peace, safely.”

King Vorigan chuckled mockingly. “I assume then that your father doesn’t approve of your mate being a vampire?”

Thaden frowned. “My father disproves of many things.” He said, dryly.

“I see.” Vorigan’s eyes drifted over Tally. Rowan didn’t miss the frown on the older man’s face. “What of that thing?” He asked, pointing to the child. “Are you keeping it as a slave?”

“Certainly not!” Rowan scowled as he pulled Tally closer to him, protectively. Thaden squeezed his hand in warning but Rowan wouldn’t be silenced. “She’s merely a child. We found her abandoned and frightened. She’s in need of loving parents, not cruel masters.”

Thaden sighed and shook his head but rather than being offended, the old King seemed more amused. “See this, Nova, my dear? A vampire with a heart.” He laughed.

A small smile crept across the Queen’s lips as she watched Rowan carefully. “Indeed, my love.” The Queen rose from her chair and stepped slowly, gracefully, down the steps of the dais and stood before Rowan, looking him over with a scrutinizing gaze as though she were inspecting merchandise at an auction. Her inspection made Rowan slightly nervous but to his credit, he did not flinch away as he allowed the Fae Queen to study him.

Finally, the Queen smiled the first genuine smile Rowan had seen from these people and she placed a hand over his heart. Her touch was warm and comforting and Rowan suddenly felt all of the tension and worry he’d felt earlier slip away. “His soul speaks to me.” The Queen said. Her voice was soft and fluttery but with a depth that resonated with Rowan in the innermost parts of his soul. “There is more to this child than what we see on the surface. His soul is old, transcendental, and with a divine beauty I’ve not seen in ages. He is truly blessed by the Goddess.”

Vorigan narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward and looked at Rowan for himself. His expression was contemplative and for once, serious, as he considered the Queen’s words. “What say you then, Wife? Should we grant them safe passage into Pickaway village?”

The Queen turned to look at her husband, the expression on her face earnest. “Grant them whatever it is they wish.” She said, lifting the hem of her skirts as she ascended the steps once more and returned to her seat. “They are on a path set forth by the Goddess. It is not our place to distract them from this path.”

“And the child?” The King pointed to Tally.

“Whatever they wish.” The Queen said sternly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the King.

The King nodded. “Very well.” He then looked to Thaden. “I’ll grant you safe passage through Ansonia and into Pickaway village. Once there you have my permission to stay should you find adequate lodgings but expect no special treatment. You are no longer a Prince in these lands and will be expected to make your own way the same as every other resident in the village.”

“I understand.” Thaden bowed. “Thank you, your majesty. We greatly appreciate this opportunity.”

“Yes, I am sure that you do.” The King looked Thaden over thoughtfully then after a minute or so he looked to Rowan. “I will warn you however, that Ansonia is a peaceful Kingdom. I intend to keep it that way, and to keep my people safe. If for one moment I suspect that my people are in danger, I will have your heads. I don’t care who you are or where you’re from. I do not tolerate lawlessness here.”