Chapter 18: Calatin
They didn't know it was their last night of blissful peace, lying in each other’s arms in the intimacy of their house in the old tree.
The prince had refused to love Igraine once more although she begged him, claiming that she needed her strength to recover from the events of the day. When he had called Ahearn, the steed had returned, stomping excitedly when he saw his beloved master and his lady.
Igraine couldn't tell how long the ride back had taken. She had slept like a child in Elathan’s arms, while he kept her safely in the saddle before him. This time, it was the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion, and it gave her rest and peace of mind. She wouldn't fight against her destiny anymore. Instead, she had decided to embrace it. Elathan had made her come back, he needed her. And she would be at his side until her heart stopped beating, even if her time on earth was more limited than she had expected. For now she just enjoyed the moment, leaning against his strong body, her head at his neck. Surrounded by his comforting warmth, she happily breathed in his wonderful male fragrance that had become so familiar to her. “Sleep now, my love,” he said with a tender kiss on her hair, wrapping his strong arm around her waist before he urged the horse into a fast gallop. “We are going home.”
It felt like home indeed when they came back to the clearing. Elathan magically lit the fire and left her there. She was cuddled up in his blanket, leaned comfortably against a tree. “Stay here. I mean it,” he said slowly to emphasize his words before he disappeared into the forest. After a while he came back, with another boar he had hunted down slung over his broad shoulders. “You need your strength,” he commanded when she had resisted eating the roasted meat at first, not feeling hungry at all. He also had brought her fresh fruit and nuts, which she preferred, but only gave these to her after she had first taken some large bites of the meat.
She noticed that the prince seemed to be an excellent cook. He had seasoned the boar with some unknown herbs he had found in the woods, and it tasted delicious. This elf has some unexpected qualities, she thought, smiling to herself. “I will let the fairies bake bread for you in the morning,” he said, nibbling on his roasted boar leg. “Oh, and new undergarments for you too, I forgot. I’d better let them make several of these ridiculous thin shreds of fabric. They are quite useless, anyway.”
“I happen to like wearing a chemise,” Igraine said, smiling. “And it would be very kind of you if you let me undress first before you want to love me next time, Sire.”
“Hmm. I do not know if I can promise that, but I will give it a try, woman.” When he watched her with a rakish grin, her heart beat faster. “Though I have to admit that my patience has been wearing thin lately. I seem to be unable to resist your allure, my slave of pleasure.”
Igraine didn't show him her disappointment that he still used this expression. After all that had occurred between them, she had almost forgotten what she was to him - a slave. She knew that her position was a place of honor among his people, more than any human woman could ever hope to achieve in his world. Yet she wanted to be so much more to him. But how could she?
He was an elf, and even royalty among his race. His people despised her own race, thinking them the inferior species. Maybe they were right. Humanity had learned to understand some of the laws of nature and had used them to exploit the earth, leaving destruction and death behind wherever they went. Elathan had told her how it used to be long ago, when the world was still young. His people had once inherited the forests, rivers, the mountains and the sea, coexisting peacefully with the humans who had preferred to stay on open land, tilling their fields. But the mortals’ hunger for power, always wanting more, had forced the Fae to retreat more and more until they hid deep in their beloved woods or in the bowels of the earth, protected by magic. Over the centuries man believed them to be imaginary, born of myths and legends, not real creatures who lived and breathed.
But now that she finally knew her destiny, it could have been worse than to die for the prince she loved. For the first time in her life, her soul was completely at peace. It was so good to live just for the moment. No worries about the future, no regrets for what she said or did - just for the things for which she now wouldn’t have enough time left. But for now, being with him was all she needed to be happy.
Later, when they had retreated to the shelter of their home in the trees, for the first time the prince had shown signs of exhaustion himself. While he lay down on their makeshift bed, he pulled her to his side and held her so close she could hardly breathe, quickly falling asleep after he had placed a loving kiss on her hair. Igraine lay awake for a while, her head snuggled comfortably to his chest. The sound of his strong heart beating inside his chest comforted her, and finally she closed her eyes, smiling to herself.
* * * * *
They awoke the next morning to a strange wetness dropping on their faces. Elathan was awake in an instant, jumping to his feet with his sword drawn. Igraine sat up, rubbing her eyes while she tried to understand where the water came from. How could it rain through the roof when the chamber was built inside a massive tree trunk? But then she lifted her eyes and saw that it didn’t just rain through some hole in the ceiling. The water poured down like a waterfall, running down the walls and covering the floor. Cursing, Elathan took her hand and pulled her to her feet before she drowned. Already knee-deep in the icy water, they waded to the door, opened it and climbed on the wooden platform outside. There they grabbed a thick branch while the chamber overflowed and water gushed out all around them, down the side of the tree.
When it was over, Igraine smoothed back her wet hair, feeling like a drowned rat. When she turned to the side, she had to suppress a giggle because her noble prince had lost a good portion of his grandeur. His shimmering mane was plastered to his head, the wetness dripping even from the tips of his pointed ears. His clothing clung to his muscular body like a second skin, a sight that was most welcome to her eyes. She was only human, after all.
The prince would have maintained a certain amount of dignity if he had not shifted his weight to his other foot, causing a squeaking sound. It seemed that his boots were filled with water, too. Igraine couldn’t deny the absurdity of the situation any longer. She felt a fit of hysterical laughter rising inside her chest, hardly able to restrain herself while she covered her mouth with her hand. Elathan ignored her muffled noises. His predatory eyes were fixed on a point on the floor, deathly anger flaming up inside their golden depths. “Magic,” he murmured. “Who else could have the audacity for this foolish prank? Trying to drown his own prince. I should have known it was him.”
Igraine was so astonished by his words that she forgot to laugh. “Him?” she said breathlessly. “You mean, someone did this deliberately? But who …” Her gaze followed Elathan’s.
“Calatin.” Elathan’s raised voice startled her. There was a stranger standing in safe distance of the tree, just far enough to prevent his polished boots from being ruined by the water. So far, Elathan had been the most stunning male she'd ever laid eyes on. But the beauty of this man made her want to shield her eyes. No, not a man. He was an elf, his pointed ears clearly visible between the thin braids of his long red hair which shone like a copper shield in the bright morning sun. He wore light chainmail armor made of shimmering silver, with a fine grey tunic and trousers underneath. She simply couldn't help staring into his almond-shaped eyes, green as emeralds, which were currently, wandering up and down her body with an openly admiring expression. Igraine gasped when it occurred to her that right now, Elathan wasn’t the only one dressed in wet clothes. With the light behind her, the thin fabric of her gown doubtless left very few parts of her to the imagination.
“I am relieved that you finally have left the comfort of your cozy little nest up there, my Lord,” the elf named Calatin said calmly. His insolent smile made his perfect face look definitely rakish. Igraine mused that elven maidens threw themselves at his feet when he smiled at them like this. “Obviously your warrior days are gone, Sire. Methinks you have spent too many centuries alone in your caves, sulking over your destiny. Your sleep was so sound that you wouldn't have heard a horde of trolls climbing up your tree, so I had to use a little magic to get you out of there. But I never would have expected to see such beauty in the morning light,” he added gallantly, bowing before Igraine.
“I would be careful if I were you, pretty boy,” Elathan growled, pointing his sword at the copper-haired elf. “Lady Igraine is mine. If you dare to touch her, I’ll use this to adorn your handsome face with some carvings. It would be such a shame if the ladies at court refused to seek out the dubious honor of your company anymore.”
Calatin didn’t seem too impressed by this threat. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed, exposing a line of even white teeth.
“I am relieved you haven’t changed at all, Elathan,” he said.
Amazed, Igraine gazed at the prince. Knowing Elathan, she expected him at any moment to kill this impertinent elf who spoke to him in such a disrespectful manner. But her lover surprised her with a mischievous grin. Only an instant later, he jumped down from the tree like a cat, walked up to Calatin and crushed him in his strong embrace until he was dripping with wetness, too. The handsome elf didn’t appear to be very amused about the water stains on his armor. The smile wiped from his face, he looked down at himself, frowning.
Elathan stepped away from him, roaring with laughter.
“You haven’t changed either, my friend,” he said. “But it is good to see you again. Now tell me, what has brought you here? Surely you didn't leave behind all those maidens pining for you just to join me for dinner.”
The handsome elf paled visibly, and he dropped down to one knee before his prince, lowering his head. When he lifted his eyes to Elathan, they were earnest and full of sadness.
“Forgive me, Sire, for I do not bring good news. Your noble father, King Bres, is dead.” He waited, but when Elathan didn't move or speak, he continued, “There is no doubt that your brother Ruadan is responsible for his death. He has already acceded to the throne. My Prince, you have to return to court immediately and reclaim what is rightfully yours.”