“You must!” Despite a long illness, the voice still rang with authority.
“Father, it is one thing to raid the vessels of our enemy for food and supplies. It is quite another to go to his very home to kidnap a high-ranking member of his court!” The younger man rises from the chair at the elder man’s bedside. He stalks to the window to look upon the lands he was fighting to protect.
“There is no other choice, Lucian. She is the answer to our problems.” The elder man struggles to sit up, the passion in him giving his pale features an unaccustomed flush.
“How can a mere slip of a girl be the answer to our problems, Father? We are being attacked on all sides by a man who wants your throne.” Lucian turns, truly puzzled. Seeing his father struggle, he moves forward, helping the older man settle against several pillows propped against the headboard of the bed.
“She is no mere girl. She is of elven blood, my son.” Sharp, green eyes look up at the younger man. The elder man was still in full possession of his faculties, even as his body was failing him.
“Excellent. Not only are we taking a lady against her will, she is an elf. Do you wish to bring us yet more trouble? From a kingdom who has been our only allies in this battle?” Lucian shoves a frustrated hand over his hair. The golden strands tug lightly, then fall free, the leather tie holding them back falling to the floor, unnoticed.
“She is but a half-elf, Lucian.” The older man leans back against the pillows, looking well-satisfied with himself.
“A single detail which changes everything. Correct?” Lucian groans, falling back into the chair near the bed.
“Do not take that tone with your king!” The older man is sitting up once more, a flash of anger in his eyes, a finger pointing at his son.
“Father, calm yourself. Please.” Lucian sits up, waiting for the king to lean back. Watching the older man take several deep breaths, Lucian sighs. “Can you not see this is madness?” Lucian looks at his father seriously.
“It is not madness! It is the only true solution.” The king nods.
“Father, it is madness. You must see it is.” Lucian closes his eyes, seeing already how his father had latched upon this woman as the ultimate answer to the prayers of their kingdom.
“Lucian, this is not madness. It is said she is a window to the future.” Fever wars with hope in the older man’s eyes.
“She is a seer?” Blue eyes snap open to regard the king. Lucian sits up, his attention and curiosity caught. “How is it Ryall has a half-elven seer within his inner circle?”
“That is uncertain. There are many stories regarding her involvement in Ryall’s court.” The king waves a hand. “Some say he stole her. Some say he purchased her from slave traders. There is also a story which says she is his mistress and there of her own free will.” The king frowns at this last, the light dimming in his eyes.
“What do you think is the truth?” Lucian leans back in his chair. Lerius Ryall’s reputation was not exactly the most stellar. Lucian tended to believe the first or the second – that she had been stolen or purchased.
“It does not matter. You must bring her here, Lucian. You must! Please.” The king, looking exhausted, pleads with his son.
“Father, I just – ” Lucian pauses, seeing the exhaustion overtake his father, sending the older man to sleep. He rises, sighing softly. He lifts his father gently, unnerved by the lack of weight to him. Settling the king into a prone position, Lucian draws the covers over him to ward off the chill of the cold winter afternoon.
“Father, what a choice you have given to me. Resort to kidnapping – or possibly allow our kingdom to fall because of my principles. Your principles.” Shaking his head, Lucian departs from the bedchamber.
“Oh! I am so sorry, your highness!” A girl, no more than fourteen summers, drops as best a curtsy as she can, her hands holding a tray. The tray carries two mugs and a bowl of broth. “I did not mean to run into you so.”
“No, no, Nara. Please. Continue with your duties. There is no need for such. You did not actually collide with me.” Lucian smiles at the girl, resting a hand on the shoulder of the blushing maid.
“I was sent to bring refreshment to you – and some broth to your father.” Nara lifts her head, the dark brown eyes still holding an embarrassment. “I was also asked to see if you wished to have a late dinner, as you have missed the midday meal.” She looks up at him, holding her breath.
“My father is resting, Nara. Perhaps you could rouse him with this broth in about an hour.” Lucian squeezes her shoulder gently before dropping his hand.
“Oh, aye, of course.” Nara nods. Her worry for the ailing king was written all over her face. “What of you?” Her expression clouds.
“I will eat soon, Nara. There is much on my mind. Food would not sit well within me at this moment in time.”
“As you say, sire.” She bows her head, then moves back toward the kitchens, carefully carrying the tray.
“A vibrant young woman, isn’t she?” A voice echoes down the hall.
“Aye, she is at that. Some stable hand or footman is going to be a very happy husband with that one.” Lucian chuckles, turning to regard the owner of the voice. “Jarrod, you have returned earlier than expected.” Lucian moves toward the lean, dark-haired man.
“Aye. The mission took less time than previously planned.” Jarrod nods to the prince, extending his hand.
“Good. Truth be told, I am glad to see you.” Lucian reaches out, clasping Jarrod’s upper forearm, near the elbow, in greeting.
“Good to see you as well, Lucian.” Jarrod reciprocates the gesture.
“Come. There is much we must discuss. We may or may not be heading into the depths of our enemy’s stronghold.”
“Into Tyradih? Lucian, have you gone mad?” Surprise and alarm enters the dark green of Jarrod’s eyes.
“The very question I put to my father when he gave me the quest. Come. Let us eat and I will tell you of his demands.”
