Silevethiel (4 page)

Elthad wanted her dead. Should he discover his assassins failed, he would stop at nothing to find her. Everyone who had given her their aid would be in danger. She was now a fugitive. There was nowhere she could call home, nowhere she could seek refuge. Though it tore at her heart to turn him away, she knew she could never seek Laegon’s friendship. By saving her life, he had already risked too much.

Her mind was suddenly filled with the memory of Laegon’s magnificent eyes, obscured by an unseen yet impenetrable mask.
I cannot endanger him further. But can I bear to continually push him away?

“Come and sit by the fire,” she called out, surprised to hear the sound of her voice. She hadn’t intended to speak the words aloud.

Startled, Laegon turned to her. She caught a hint of delight sparkle in his eyes before he once again raised the invisible barrier between them. “You are awake.”

“Only due to hunger,” she lied. “The taste of the broth earlier seems to have awakened my appetite.”

“That is good to hear,” Laegon said with a slight smile. “There is some left in the pot. It will not take long to warm.”

“You may take your cloak back. I am quite comfortable.”

He entered the cave. “Do not think you can lie to me so easily. Your teeth were chattering so loudly, I am surprised Brégen did not hear you in Silverden.”

“Please, Laegon. You must be freezing.”

“I am warm enough.”

Laegon turned his attention to warming the broth. An awkward silence descended upon them as they left one another to their own thoughts. She watched as he placed the handle of the small pot in a groove notched into the end of a large log before resting the log over a rock so that the pot hung over the fire.

“It was a lioness,” she said suddenly, her silvery voice drifting over the loud crackling of the flames.

Laegon glanced at her from behind the fire in sheer bewilderment. “What?”

After taking a deep breath, Irewen told the prince of the white lioness that had pulled her from the abyss.

The elf listened intently, staring at her in amazement. “Silevethiel,” he whispered when she had finished.

“What?”

“The lioness who appeared before you is Silevethiel. She is the Dame of the Guardians and has been their leader since her first Protector was killed over twenty years ago. Brégen must have asked her for aid. I am surprised she was able to communicate with you. It is rare for a Guardian to use Míendvel with anyone other than their Protector. As far as I know, there are no accounts of one communicating with a human.”

“My mother was half-elven,” she said quietly, feeling his surprise crash upon her like thunder.

“I did not know.”

“No one does. People of my country do not take kindly to diversity. My mother even kept her heritage a secret from my father, for a time. When she finally confessed to him, he could not understand her fear and apprehension. He loved her. In his eyes, that was all that mattered.”

“King Donríel is an honorable man.”

Irewen quickly averted her eyes at Laegon’s use of the present tense. “Yes,” she whispered. The prince may as well have stabbed her in the heart with his dagger. She had forgotten Laegon had no way of knowing about her father’s death. News of his assassination wouldn’t yet have reached the Wood Elves.

“What is wrong?” Laegon asked disquietly, ignoring the steam from the broth as it billowed in his face. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“No, Laegon. You have done nothing wrong. I was simply caught off guard.”

“I do not understand, my lady. Have I spoken amiss?”

She was touched by his overwhelming concern for her wellbeing. Looking into his troubled eyes, she found she could no longer hold her tongue. Her voice shook when she spoke. “It is my father. He is dead.”

Laegon rushed to her side, earnestly taking her hands in his. “You have my deepest sympathy and my most heartfelt apologies, my lady. I was unaware of his passing.”

“You have nothing to forgive, Laegon. He died nine days before you rescued me. There was no way you could have known. I should have spoken of it sooner.”

“It is always difficult to speak on the death of a loved one, especially to a stranger. You told me when you were able, Irewen. That is soon enough.”

Weeks of caged tears flowed freely down her fair cheeks, and she abruptly turned her head away in embarrassment.

Without thinking, Laegon lightly touched her chin, gently returning her gaze towards him. “Do not be ashamed,” he said, brushing her tears away with his fingertips. “You have experienced more in the past fortnight than most could bear in a lifetime. Expressing your emotions will help to ease your burden of grief. I will never judge you, nor will I pressure you to speak when you are not ready. I will, however, be here to listen whenever you decide that you are.”

Peering at him through watery eyes, Irewen’s lips spread into a faint smile. Laegon returned her gaze, his large eyes filled with heartfelt and profound sincerity.

When Irewen finally found the courage to speak, her voice was thick with emotion. “My father was my dearest friend,” she explained. “My only friend. The journey from Dürgeld made me realize how empty my life will be without him. There is no one I can turn to for comfort. There is no one who will share my grief.”

“What of your family?”

“There is none. My mother died during childbirth. I have no siblings. For obvious reasons, I never knew any of her family. I was resented by my father’s brother and his wife. The only living relation I have is my cousin Elthad, and he...” She faltered. Her heart was once again crushed from the weight of his treachery.

“If you need me, Irewen, I am here.”

She turned her face away from his compassionate gaze. “No, Laegon, I cannot.”

Abruptly, she sensed his impenetrable shield rise between them. Agonizing despair consumed her as she visualized the dejection she knew to be in his eyes.
I cannot go on like this. I cannot continue to torment him in this way. I must tell him the truth. At least then he will understand.

“Laegon,” she whispered so softly she could barely hear her own voice above the crackling of the fire. “Laegon, forgive me. I...I have not been completely honest with you about my father’s death. He was...murdered...the night before I left Dargon. Elthad...”

Laegon gently touched her hand. “You do not need to do this, Irewen.”

“I must. It is the only way for you to understand why I cannot...”

“Cannot what?”

“Please, just listen, Laegon,” she begged. “Everything will become clear when I am finished.”

Squeezing her hand to give what strength and support he could, Laegon listened attentively while she told him of Elthad’s betrayal.

She took a deep breath during the silence that followed.

“I told you earlier I could not return to Dargon, and now you understand why. The killer believes me to be dead. If word of my survival ever reaches Elthad’s ears, he will never stop hunting me. It is for this reason that I can never accept your friendship, Laegon. Although you could not have known, you have risked much by aiding me. Once I am well enough to travel on my own, I must leave you. I cannot endanger your life further.”

“And what if I told you that I will not allow you to leave on your own?”

“But, Elthad...”

“I have heard your words of warning, Irewen, and I simply do not care. Earlier, Brégen informed me that my father has offered you the full protection of the elves. That offer still stands. Though I know you will refuse, you are welcome to take refuge in Silverden. Where you choose to go once you have recovered is up to you. But you will not be going alone.”

Laegon tenderly glided the tips of his fingers down the side of her cheek, and she found herself becoming hopelessly lost in his delicate touch. “You are a brave woman, Irewen,” he murmured softly, “but please, accept my aid. Accept the fact that I am offering it - not because I have to, but because I want to.”

Taken aback, Irewen stared at the prince. She couldn’t believe the elf had offered his assistance so freely, but one look into his eyes banished any doubt that he’d not spoken sincerely. His unquestioning acceptance of everything she’d told him was surprising, yet refreshing. In a way, she’d always lived her life as a fugitive. It was wonderful to know that, at least in Laegon’s company, she no longer needed to live beneath a veil of secrets.

Nodding her appreciation, she placed her hand over her heart. “Thank you, Laegon.”

Timidly, as if she would hit him for doing so, Laegon reached for her. She leaned into him, letting him gather her in his arms. Resting her head on his chest, she relished the warmth of his body as it slowly seeped into her. He hummed softly in her ear, lightly stroking her ebony curls, and soon she was lost in the sweet release of sleep.

Laegon laid her on the bedroll, covering her with his cloak and blanket. “Ilé lednan, Irewen,” he whispered before settling down next to her, lightly grazing her temple with his fingertips. “May your dreams be filled with delightful memories of the past and enchanting hopes for the future.”

Laegon sat with his back against the wall of the cave, listening to Irewen’s peaceful breathing. He was still trying to digest all the information he’d learned. The news of King Donríel’s murder had come as a bit of a surprise. Nevertheless, he had to admit it was certainly nothing out of the ordinary. The same held true for Elthad’s deceit. He was familiar with the hastiness of the human temperament. Unlike the elves, who weren’t quick to act upon others with vengeance, mortals shared no qualms about inflicting punishment upon others because of petty grievances or their insatiable lust for power.

Regardless, he found the manner in which the king was killed to be quite shocking and extremely disturbing. It wasn’t the work of an assassin. If that were so, Gartheld’s murder would’ve been quite similar to the attack against Irewen. He would’ve been stabbed a few times, possibly with a poisoned blade, and it would have ended there. By Irewen’s account, however, her father had been stabbed repeatedly, almost beyond recognition. The king’s heart had been ripped from his chest and meticulously centered on his forehead. That was either the act of an overzealous assassin, or had been done by someone who held a personal and profound grudge against the king. Laegon’s instincts told him it was most definitely the latter.

Though he suspected Elthad to be the killer, he hadn’t said as much to Irewen. He didn’t want to hinder her recovery by placing yet another unnecessary burden upon her shoulders. She was aware of her cousin’s betrayal. For the time being, that was all that mattered.

The princess shifted in her sleep. Her midnight black hair fell away from her serene face. Laegon had been utterly astonished to learn Irewen shared the blood of his people. As he studied her intently, he noticed her delicate elven features for the first time. Unlike the elves whose facial characteristics were quite prominent and angular, Irewen’s were soft and unobtrusive, giving her a wonderfully ethereal appearance.

Though extremely subtle, the distinctive elven features were all present. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed them earlier. Her fair ivory skin, free of even the smallest blemish, lay taut over her high cheek bones and thin jaw. Her lips, the most perfect shade of pink, were thin and perfectly symmetrical. Though much smaller and daintier than her elven kin, her ears were slightly pointed at the top, a characteristic so subtle it was almost imperceptible. Even her hairline, true to her elven blood, came to a faint v-shaped point directly in the center of her forehead.

Her elegance and grace surpasses even the fairest of my people. She is absolutely exquisite.
Resisting the sudden urge to move to her side and kiss her soft pink lips, he quickly turned away. Feeling like a small boy caught staring upon his first love, his cheeks reddened with embarrassment.
Control yourself, Laegon,
he scolded himself.
You are here to ensure her recovery and protection. This is not the time to become smitten with her beauty.

He forced his attention away from Irewen and focused instead on her father’s murder. If his suspicions of Elthad proved true, the princess was in even greater danger than she realized.

«Brégen.»
The familiar tingling of Míendvel coursed through his body.
«Do you have a moment?»

Laegon waited patiently for the lion’s response.

«Aye, young prince,»
the lion’s voice boomed.
«What is on your mind?»

«I have learned a great deal from Irewen since you and I last spoke.»

«Oh?»

Taking great care not to leave out any details, Laegon meticulously told the Guardian of King Donríel’s murder and Elthad’s betrayal, very much aware of the lion’s concern.

«That is indeed grievous news, Protector,»
Brégen said when the prince paused to collect his thoughts.
«Perhaps we
—
»

«I have not finished,»
Laegon interrupted.
«There is something more. Irewen has the gift of Míendvel.»

«Are you certain?»

«Aye, my friend. She is quarter-elven.»

«Who—
»

«It was her mother,»
Laegon answered quickly, anticipating Brégen’s question.
«I can tell you nothing more.»

«Do you know which of the Guardians spoke to her?»

«It was Silevethiel. We have her to thank for saving Irewen’s life.»

«Silevethiel!»
Brégen exclaimed with surprise.
«That sly fox! She said nothing to me!»

«I very much doubt the Dame of the Guardians would take kindly to learning you referred to her as a ‘sly fox’,»
Laegon teased.

«Nonsense!»
Brégen answered with a dismissive grunt.
«It is quite obviously a term of endearment.»

Laegon chortled softly, careful not to wake Irewen.
«Well, whatever it may be, I should watch your tongue. I remember what Silevethiel did to you the last time she caught you using one of your ‘terms of endearment’. You were hobbling around on three legs for over a week.»