Lovers’ Veil
By
Eldritch Thorn
Lovers’ Veil
Eldritch Thorn
Copyright 2011
Smashwords Edition
Cover designed by Eldritch Thorn
No part of this book may be copied, changed or redistributed without prior written consent from the author.
Chapter 1
Prince Leofrick Wykeham kept a loose grip on his yew longbow as he stepped cautiously. Silence was the order of the moment, though no trace of any game had been found for hours.
Bryce Cartwright is a good man. But he’s too overbearing. And too loyal to Father and Mother. Why couldn’t they have assigned me a personal guard who’s more fun?
Leofrick knew that Bryce was nearby, with the rest of the hunting party. The slightest sound might alert the older man of his presence and bring him. Doing his utmost to keep Leofrick is sight at all times was one of Bryce’s more annoying qualities. He had been aghast at Leofrick’s suggestion that they split up on the hunt. Leofrick had managed to give him the slip, but knew his freedom would be short-lived.
He’s a good man, loyal to the throne, brave and intelligent. But why must he be so narrow-minded and overbearing? Father and Mother assigned him to me as a guard, not a nursemaid!
The harmonious strands of song gradually worked their way into Leofrick’s consciousness. He stopped, stunned by the beauty of the sweet music, wondering how long he had actually been hearing it. After several long moments, he crept forward once more, taking great care that his soft leather boots made no noise, stepping over fallen twigs.
Pushing ahead, deeper into the shadow-dappled depths of Knavesmire Woods, Leofrick listened as the singing grew steadily louder. It washed over him like smooth silk, wrapping him in its soft, enticing folds, caressing him gently, drawing him on. It was a woman’s voice, raised in a dulcet lyric. Her voice held an accent which Leofrick was unfamiliar with. He found the voice exotic and alluring. Without even having seen the mistress of the song, he found himself falling under her spell, bewitched by her imagined loveliness.
Leofrick followed the mellow refrains until he found himself at the edge of a clearing. The voice was louder now, its source close. In slow motion, the prince reached out a hand and drew back a leafy branch, peering through the gap it opened. His breath caught at the sight before him.
A narrow stream wended its way through the clearing, its water clear and clean. Standing in the middle of the watercourse was the most dazzlingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was small and trim, petite and delicate. Her waist-length blonde hair, darkened from moisture, hung down, the only thing covering her otherwise bare, pale flesh. The seemingly insubstantial woman was singing, her voice raised in clear, euphonious tones.
Unable to take his eyes from the beautiful sight before him, scarcely able to breathe, he settled in, watching the delicate woman bathe.
She cupped her hands in the water and washed her pale skin over and over. Her smooth, flawless flesh glistened in the afternoon sunlight. No hair marred her skin below her eyebrows. Leofrick found he couldn’t decide which feature he found the most attractive—her youthful face with its innocent, wide-eyed expression, her tiny breasts with their rosy pink nipples, or her bare, sleek pubis.
As he watched her, Leofrick was aware that his own body was reacting to the sight of hers. His cock grew hard and hot within the tight confines of his pants. His breathing became quicker. In his mind, he had the gorgeous young woman on his bed and was perched between her lithe, willowy legs, making sweet love to her. In his fantasy, her eyes were locked with his own as she made soft sounds of blissful pleasure with each thrust of his thick shaft into her tight, hot canal.
Long minutes passed by and still Leofrick remained hidden, watching the young woman, listening to her song. She seemed in no hurry and bathed over and over again, taking her time, gently washing her pale, smooth skin and long blonde hair again and again. All the while, her song never wavered. Her voice wrapped around the prince, holding him as fast as the sight of her naked beauty.
“Prince! There you are!” Bryce’s voice called loudly from several yards behind.
Leofrick winced. At the same instant, the young woman spun, her gaze locking onto him, her song ending. A look of shocked, abject horror twisting her features into a mask. She froze, eyes panicked, for only a moment before turning away. She spun so quickly that her long blonde hair whipped through the air behind her, arcing around, slinging water. She began scrambling up the far bank of the stream.
Leofrick glanced in the direction of Bryce’s voice, loathe to take his eyes off the mind-searingly lovely woman even for an instant. Bryce was approaching him quickly, noisily. The large man was waving a hand at him.
“Prince, why did you go off alone? You know how many travelers have vanished in Knavesmire Woods over the years! It isn’t safe out here alone!”
Ignoring him, Leofrick turned back, wanting to catch a final glimpse of the young woman. She had made it up the far bank already and, still fully nude, was racing toward the far side of the clearing. As he watched, she faded from view and was gone.
Leofrick flinched in shock, blinking, trying to focus on the place where the woman had been.
“Leofrick!”
The prince waved his guard to silence and rose, pushing into the clearing. He went quickly to the stream, staring at the place where the woman had stood. Not caring about damage to his leather boots or elegant hunting pants, Leofrick slid down the bank and waded into the watercourse.
“Prince!”
He paused only long enough to glance back at Bryce. “Give me a minute, will you?”
Turning back, Leofrick forded the stream and looked at the other bank. To his amazement, there was no sign of the young woman’s passage. Puzzled, he climbed up and followed her course toward the tree line, his gaze on the ground.
Nothing. But that isn’t possible! She couldn’t have just vanished. She’s here, hiding in the brush or behind a tree. She must be…
Disturbed by the lack of any bent grass or footprints, he turned his full attention to the deeper woods before him, casting about for some small sign of the woman’s presence or passage. He saw nothing.
“Hello? Are you still there? I’m sorry to have frightened you! I’m sorry to have spied upon you, too. I heard you singing and…”
He let his words trail off as the realization that he was not going to get an answer slowly sank in.
“My Prince?” Bryce called from the far side of the stream. “To whom are you speaking?”
Unexpected anger flaring in him, Leofrick spun quickly, spearing Bryce Cartwright with a look. “You shouldn’t have shouted! You scared her away!”
Frustrated, longing for one more look at the lovely woman, Leofrick started back to Bryce.
“I’m sorry, my Prince. I was concerned for your safety when I found that you’d left us. And…whom did I frighten off? I saw no one.” The red beard around his mouth sagged as he frowned and his brow furrowed with uncertainty above hesitant eyes.
Leofrick paused, staring at Bryce. “You didn’t see—? No, you shouted before you were close enough to see her. By the gods, Bryce, she was the brightest vision of beauty! Gorgeous beyond anything I’d ever imagined being possible. Her voice alone is something men would kill to experience just once in their miserable lifetimes.”
“Her voice? You spoke to her, then?”
“No. She was singing. You must’ve heard her.”
“I heard nothing.”
Leofrick stared at his personal guard. “You must have.”
“I apologize, but I did not. I had picked up your trail through the woods and followed it. I saw you crouching there, staring into the clearing. I saw no one else and heard nothing.”
Leofrick watched him for long moments before sighing and leading the way back toward the others. “Bryce…my friend…take it from me when I say that you can’t know what you missed because you’ve never in your life experienced anything like it before. That sweet, soft voice…her lovely face…that petite, perfect body…” Thoughts of the woman and her nakedness were enough to make his cock swell painfully in the limitations of his pants once more. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Why were you so worried about me? I was only gone for a few minutes.”
“A few minutes? My Prince, no. You were gone for over two hours.”
Leofrick stopped walking and turned to the larger man, confused. “What?”
When Bryce only returned his gaze, unspeaking, Leofrick turned his attention to the sky. He started upon seeing the drastic shift in the sun’s position from when he had last been aware of it.
“But…”
“My Prince?”
“It isn’t possible.”
“I’m afraid it is, my Prince.”
“I couldn’t have been watching her that long.”
“It seems that you were. She must have been a vision.”
“She was.” Leofrick started walking again, going only a few paces before saying, “Let’s call off the hunting excursion. We’re just wasting our time out here.”
He scarcely heard Bryce’s mumble of assent, his thoughts already slipping back to the memory of the young woman bathing in the stream.
I can’t believe I lost track of time so badly while watching her. How could that have happened?
Bryce’s soft words brought him back to the moment as the large man asked, “Tell me about her, would you?”
Leofrick jumped slightly, startled at the sound of the other’s voice, and grinned sheepishly upon noticing that they had rejoined the other members of the hunting party.
As the group angled toward the distant castle, Leofrick said, “She was the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen. She was small, tiny almost, yet perfectly proportioned. She had the face of an angel, Bryce, so flawless and unspoiled… Her hair was blonde, I think. She had wet it, so it was darker, but I think it was blonde. And it was so long it hung to her waist. It floated on the water behind her as she washed herself.”
Recalling details about the mysterious woman excited him and Leofrick began to speak faster, almost forgetting he had an audience, losing himself in thoughts of the woman he had seen.
“Her skin was devoid of hair, though. I’ve never seen such a thing before. She had eyebrows, but no hair at all on her below those that I could see.”
“Most unusual,” the other commented quietly.
“Yes,” Leofrick agreed, “it was. But it was wonderful! I’ve never seen such smooth, soft-looking skin. You should’ve seen her!”
“What color were her eyes?”
“I couldn’t tell. I only really saw them when she spotted me.” Thoughts of Bryce’s earlier interruption came back to him slowly, beginning to annoy him once more.
“Well,” Bryce commented, “this ought to please the King and Queen. They’ll be happy you’re finally taking an interest in the fair sex. You’re over thirty now. It’s high time you were married.”
“I’ve always had an interest in women. You know that.”
“I know that you’ve taken your share of lovers over the years. But none have become anything serious. I’ve never heard you go on about a woman as you are this one.”
“That’s because I’ve never found the right woman before. That’s why I’ve never married, or even bothered with a long-term relationship. I gave my virginity to the fifteen-year-old daughter of one of the castle cooks when I was only eleven-years-old. That afternoon introduced me to pleasures the likes of which I never knew could exist. But every girl and every woman I’ve taken to my bed has been nothing more than a pleasant diversion from the rest of my life. I’ve not felt enough for any of them to want more than otherwise meaningless sex with them. Not a one, Bryce. And I won’t marry until I find someone truly special. Like maybe the woman I saw today.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
“You sound as if you know this woman, my Prince. Yet you only watched her bathe and listened to her sing. She didn’t speak to you, or you to her. You don’t even know her name. You feel lust for her, but nothing more. You know nothing about her.”
“It’s a feeling. There’s something different about her.”
Leofrick lapsed into silence and refused to be goaded back into conversation. He remained quiet for the duration of the walk back to the castle, lost in private thoughts of the dazzling woman he had seen. He had to fight to keep his earlier fantasy about her from taking over his thoughts.
Upon reaching the castle, he left Bryce and the others to clean and stow the hunting gear and retired to his chambers to wash up before dinner.
Once sequestered away in his bedchamber, Leofrick poured water from a pitcher into a large basin. He turned to the sizeable, ornate, oval standing mirror and ran his fingers over the intricate scrollwork in the wooden frame.
The scrollwork depicted layer upon layer of leafy ivy vines. As always, he looked carefully, spotting the artfully-hidden, tiny renditions of faerie folk secreted in the vines. The mirror had been in the room since before he had been born; stories rumored that it had been in place since the castle had been built centuries ago. The mirror had been Leofrick’s all his life. Yet, even now, after a bit more than thirty years of examining the skillfully-crafted wooden frame, he still sometimes found a new faerie design that he had never spotted before.
He stripped out of his dirty clothing, tossing the grubby garments aside for the cleaning staff to deal with in the morning. Fully nude, he left his long brown hair in its ponytail and turned to the basin and picked up a cloth, wetting it. He washed quickly, removing the dirt and sweat of the hunting trip. As he washed, his thoughts wandered back to the young woman from the clearing.
I have to find her.
Drying with a fresh cloth, the prince stepped back to the mirror and stood before it, gazing at his reflection.
His image stared back at him with appraising blue eyes above clean-shaved cheeks and chin. He was tall, his body long and lean, the faultless physique maintained by regular swims in the lake. His skin was mostly unmarred, yet held a few small scars here and there, legacy of a mixture of childhood mishaps and training accidents with swords. Thoughts of the young woman’s own hairless flesh caused him to take special note of his own body hair. While he wasn’t overly hairy, his sinewy musculature was adorned with dark brown strands that blended well with the tan he sported, gained during his frequent swims.
He flipped his ponytail back over his shoulder and let his eyes wander down his reflection until he found himself staring at the image of his cock. It was long and heavy even in its flaccid state. The tip of it peeked out from his foreskin just slightly.
Turning, Leofrick appraised his image from all sides, knowing that women found him attractive. He routinely received complements on both his body and his chiseled good looks. The memory of the look of abject horror he had seen on the beatific face of the woman in the clearing was a knife in his heart. Never in his life had a woman looked at him in such a way. For that look to have been cast upon him by such a divinely perfect woman bothered him deeply.
Moving away from the mirror, he quickly dressed in dinner finery of satin and silk before hurrying downstairs to the smaller, more informal dinning room. It was adjacent to the opulent dining hall and the King and Queen preferred it to the alternative when not entertaining. His parents were already there and the questions began the moment Leofrick was seated at the long wooden table. Servants were busy doling out portions of the meal.
Queen Cara Wykeham, lean and trim, her long, wavy honey-colored hair immaculate, graced her son with a smile. “Bryce tells us you met a woman while you were out today?”
Leofrick squirmed uncomfortably and waited until the servants had filled his plate before replying. “Saying that I met her would be reading too much into it, I’m afraid, Mother.”
“Oh.”
King Dugal Wykeham paused, his fork halfway to his bearded face. “So what did happen out there? Bryce made it sound as if you’d already fallen head-over-heels in love with someone.”
Leofrick watched the King for a long moment before answering. His father still maintained his own body well, but did not have, and probably never would regain, a physique as admirable as Leofrick’s own.
“Well,” Leofrick said slowly, “Bryce needs to mind his own business.”
“He’s there to protect you,” the Queen reminded him.
“I know. We all need a guard when we leave the castle. I accept that. But Bryce carries it too far.”
The King nodded, saying, “You think that before an assassination attempt or before getting lost in the forest. But after? Afterward you sing a different tune!”
“Singing…” Leofrick muttered.
“What was that?” his father asked.
“Singing,” Leofrick replied. “I heard singing and followed the sound. The song was being sung by the most indescribably beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“And?” Queen Cara promoted.
“And that was it,” Leofrick said. “I was watching her when Bryce called for me. She heard Bryce’s voice and it frightened her. She ran off.”
“That’s it?” King Dugal asked.
“That’s it.”
The Queen lowered her knife and fork. “Bryce makes it sound as if you were almost engaged to the girl.”
“No such luck,” he told her. “I didn’t speak to her. She didn’t speak to me. I don’t even know her name.”
“Oh,” the Queen said again, more softly this time.
“An odd thing happened, though. As she was running off, she just seemed to…vanish.”
“Vanish?” the King asked.
“Disappear.”
“I know what the word means, son. But it’s impossible.”
Leofrick shrugged, saying, “It happened in Knavesmire Woods. Odd things happen in there all the time.”
“All the more reason why it’s good that Bryce was with you,” the Queen said.
Leofrick groaned inwardly and turned his attention to his meal. He ate quickly and excused himself, retreating back to his chambers before a new round of questions or prompts to marry could begin after the meal.
Once back in his bedchamber, he stood before the ornate mirror, staring at his reflection. He tried hard to see anything, any tiny, minor detail, that might elicit such a response of horror as had come over the young woman earlier that day. The thought of such a lovely woman reacting to the sight of him in such a way was deeply troubling.
Slowly, almost unaware of his actions, Leofrick removed his clothing, stripping away the layers of dinner finery until he was once again naked before the scroll-worked mirror.
I was dressed when she saw me, but still, maybe…
His gaze roved the image of his reflection as it had before dinner. He looked the same as always and could see no reason why a woman would look at him is such a manner.
Maybe she was simply thrown off because she realized that someone had been watching her? But if you bathe in such a place, you’re apt to be seen. Especially when you sing as she did! It was almost as if she had been trying to draw attention to herself and was frightened when she did so. It doesn’t make any sense!
Thoughts of the woman turned again to memories of her. Memories of her gave way to the fantasy of making sweet love to her that Leofrick had envisioned while watching her. He watched the reflection of his meaty cock as it grew, swelling with desire at his ribald thoughts, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
He reached down and took hold of his semi-erect shaft in a gentle grip, easing back his foreskin, revealing the engorging head. His arousal increased with his own touch, a wave of sheer bliss washing over him, beginning at his loins and spreading throughout his entire body.
Without turning from the image in the mirror, Leofrick walked backward slowly until he felt his bed pressing the backs of his legs. He sat, still holding his erection lightly. Watching the mirror, he wrapped his fingers around his cock and started to stroke.
In his hand, his shaft grew harder and longer, its head swelling, turning purple and satiny. Leofrick kept fondling himself gently, unhurried. Though he watched his own image in the mirror, his mind called up the image of the gorgeous young woman from the clearing.
Leofrick sighed in pleasure and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes, focusing his entire awareness on the dual pleasures of the memory of the nude young woman and the feelings generated by his hand stroking his brawny cock.
In his mind, the prince returned to his prior fantasy. He imagined the young woman on his bed, her slender, graceful legs spread apart for him. He pictured himself in place between her svelte thighs, his cock sliding into her womanhood. He imagined her pert breasts flushing, her breath quickening, as he made love to her, their gazes locked together.
Leofrick felt the warm liquid satin of his secretions and eagerly wiped them up, using them to quell the building friction. Refocusing on the fantasy playing out in his mind, he tightened his grip on his hefty shaft slightly and increased the speed of his stroking.
Visualizing the young woman lying beneath him, her supple legs wrapped around him, drawing him deeply into her body, he stroked himself faster and faster.
His orgasm hit him without warning, washing over him, submerging him in mind-numbing pleasure. He groaned, teeth gritting together, lean hips bucking, as his hand moved even faster on his long, thick shaft, coaxing his seed into a powerful series of jets that arced to patter down on his chest and stomach.
He lay there, gasping for breath, spent and sweating, still clinging to the fantasy in his mind.
“I don’t know who you are,” he whispered to the image of the young woman in his fantasy, “but I swear by the gods that I will find you!”
Chapter 2
Princess Rhyannon Ensorcelledlight hastened through the light-and-shadow dappled woodlands of Gnomehearth Forest. Her panic fed her speed, which, in turn, fueled her desperation, which fed her panic. It was a cycle that kept her going at top speed, rushing ahead with little thought than to escape.
He saw me! That human saw me! How? How is that possible? How could he have seen through the Veil to Faerie? He’s a human! That shouldn’t be possible!
She was nearly dry now, the flight-induced breeze of her getaway caressing her bare flesh. She could feel her waist-length hair fluttering behind her. It, too, felt nearly dry now.
She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see him following her, attempting to chase her down. Her surprise at his absence made her stumble. Rhyannon slowed, catching her balance. Still wary, she continued on toward the castle, casting frequent looks back.
How could he have seen me? I didn’t cross the Veil! The geography on this side and the human side are the same. But the races are vastly different. We Faerie races can peer through the Veil at times, with proper preparation. We can even cross over to the human side if we truly need to. But humans can’t. It’s nearly unheard of for a human to cross and those have nearly all been instances in which a faerie has crossed over and brought a human back. The two sides of the Veil are just slightly offset from each other. But it’s enough to keep most humans from even being aware of our presence!
Rhyannon looked back once more. Still seeing no sign of the human, she slowed her pace more, allowing her breathing to return to a more normal rate.
Most humans regard us as being nothing more than myth and legend. Did that human know what I am? Is that why he was spying on me? And how was he able to see me to begin with?
She pondered her questions all the way back, unable to answer any of them.
Upon reaching the castle she and her father called home, Rhyannon swept by the honor guards, not speaking to them, still lost in her thoughts. The guards, dressed in opulent silk and armor of the finest crystal, took no notice of her blatant nudity, only nodding at her politely as she went by them and into the entry hall.
She hurried along, making her way quickly as she could upstairs to her chambers.
Going directly into her bedchamber, Rhyannon stood before the ornate, oval standing mirror. The piece was so tall that it towered over her. Her father had offered to have it removed in favor of something more befitting her small size. She had refused, smitten with the intricate scrollwork on the mirror’s heavy frame. The carvings were of many overlapping layers of ivy vines, fully leafed out, twinning together in braids and other designs. Hidden throughout were minuscule images of faeries. Rhyannon loved looking at the ornate work, trying to find the hidden faeries. According to her father, the mirror had stood in place since the construction of the castle many centuries earlier. It had belonged to Rhyannon for her entire life. Yet, after nearly thirty years of looking at it, she still discovered new faeries hidden in the scrollwork from time to time.
She gazed at her reflection, frowning. Her flight through Gnomehearth Forest had left her covered in dirt and bits of leaves and other woodland detritus. Her long blonde hair was in tangles. Her frown deepened as she took in the full extent of the mess she had become.
Sighing, Rhyannon stepped to a side table and grabbed up a highly-wrought comb that had been hand-carved from a single piece of golden wood. Returning to the mirror, she set to work on her hair, combing it out, ridding it of bits of leaves and twigs.
Upon finishing with her hair, she replaced the comb on the table and took up a pitcher of water, pouring part of its contents into a matching basin. Wetting a soft cloth, she returned to the mirror and watched her image as she wiped her skin clean.
The human wore clothing. It’s true! They do cover their bodies with fabric and hide themselves from each other!
She couldn’t help but laugh at such a ludicrous notion.
The stories must be true; humans must consider nudity to be shameful. How silly! Was that why he was watching me? Because I was naked? But if he found my nudity shameful, why would he watch and not turn away?
As Rhyannon washed, she thought more about the human she had discovered watching her in the clearing. She envisioned the look of pure wondrous adoration that had been on his face when she had first turned and spotted him.
He was quite handsome. Even by fey standards. Though he was far too tall. I wonder how his body would look stripped of those ridiculous layers of clothing.
Picturing the man naked in her mind, Rhyannon found herself envisioning a perfect, lean body endowed with amply-large genitals.
She was amazed when her mouth began to water at the image in her mind. She focused on her reflection in the mirror before her and was surprised to see her pink nipples tightening into fleshy buds of arousal. Slowly, she reached down, smoothing her dainty fingers over her pubis, dipping lightly into the swelling folds of flesh. Moisture greeted her exploring touch. She massaged herself lightly, sighing with bliss at the pleasure.
He was quite handsome…
Returning the cloth to the basin of water, Rhyannon stood once more before the mirror, looking at her reflection. In her mind, she pictured herself on her bed with the human man. In her fantasy, she lay on her back, legs spread, guiding his full shaft into her body. Her attention on the daydream was so great that she began to see it overlaying the real vision of the mirror and her reflection before her. She watched her image as her nipples grew harder. Satiny moisture dripped from her folds. The musky scent of her arousal only served to entice her even more.
Rhyannon backed slowly from the mirror, still watching her image in the glass, until she felt the plush comforter covering her bed brush the backs of her legs. Slowly, parting her legs slightly, still staring at her reflection, she sat.
Spreading her legs further, she ran her hands lightly over her inner thighs, shivering at the sensations, imagining it was her voyeuristic human who was touching her so intimately.
When she returned her fingers to her sex, she found that she was dripping wet and swollen with arousal. Lying back, she closed her eyes and concentrated, dividing her attention equally between the sensations her touch sent washing through her burning flesh and the imagined fantasy of making love to the human.
One hand stole to her chest, toying with her hardened nipples, as her other moved over her sex, fingers flexing, massaging. Her breath quickened and her hips squirmed.
Finally, after long minutes of joyful work, Rhyannon gasped, her spine going rigid with pleasure. A small squeak of sheer delight escaped her lips as hot, fragrant liquid ran over her busy fingers, coating her hand and inner thighs.
After catching her breath, she smiled warmly and rolled over, pretending she was turning to hold her human lover.
Incredible! That was simply incredible!
Allowing herself a time to bask in the warm feelings her touch had elicited, and for her fever of desire to cool somewhat, Rhyannon reluctantly rose. Taking up the cloth once more, she washed herself again, ridding herself of the drying, sticky secretions of her playtime.
Dropping the cloth back in the basin, she took up a long train of thin, diaphanous blue silk and wrapped herself in it. She was just tucking the end into a fold of material to keep the garment in place when a heavy knock sounded on the thick wooden door of her chambers.
“Coming,” she called, moving through the sitting chamber to the door.
She opened it to find her father, King Oakenmace Ensorcelledlight, standing in the doorway. Though not much taller than Rhyannon herself, King Ensorcelledlight was layered with sculpted muscles that showed beneath his own translucent silken wrap. His beard, full, bushy and white-blonde, bristled as he watched her. Beside and behind him stood Leurre.
The changeling was tall, far taller than most beings in faerie, nearly six-feet-tall.
Almost as tall as my human.
Leurre was skeletally-thin, gray skin, rough and wrinkled, was drawn tautly over his frame. His eyes were deeply-sunken and gleamed with sickly bruise-purple light. His mouth was wide and nearly lipless. The changeling wore nothing but a simple loincloth of tattered black canvas.
“Father,” Rhyannon said coldly, ignoring Leurre.
The changeling slipped passed the King and pushed by Rhyannon, intruding into her chambers.
“Greetings, betrothed,” Leurre croaked at her in his harsh, broken voice.
Rhyannon winced at the endearment, spinning to face the emaciated being. She made no effort to hide her repugnance or contempt when she spoke.
“I’ve told you not to call me that. I’ll not marry you. Not ever. You disgust me, you slimy piece of troll feces!”
King Ensorcelledlight followed the changeling into the sitting chamber. “Hush, daughter! Be more polite to your husband-to-be!”
Her only reply was an appalled snort.
“The marriage has been arranged since you were a child. It stands firm to this day. You will become Leurre’s bride on the night of this year’s Samhain, during the full moon ritual,” her father said.
Rhyannon stared at the King, pointedly ignoring the changeling. “Why are you here, Father?”
Before the King could reply, Leurre stepped forward, placing a light hand upon her shoulder. She jerked away, nauseated by the touch.
“I merely wanted to see my bride-to-be and pay my respects,” Leurre crooned hoarsely. “We are to be wed soon. It is my right to see you.”
He tried to embrace her, but Rhyannon twisted away, her stomach churning at the thought of touching the vile creature.
“Out!” she ordered. “Both of you, get out. Father, please, get out of my chambers. Leurre? Get out of my chambers, our castle and my life and never come back!”
“Rhyannon, he has every right—”
She cut her father off, saying, “No! Where I’m concerned, he has no rights.”
King Oakenmace Ensorcelledlight’s face darkened. “Listen to me, daughter. Listen well! I am not only your father, but your King. You will do as I tell you. And I’m telling you that you will marry Leurre on Samhain! He is here now, because I have invited him to the castle. He lives here now.”
“What?”
He held up a hand, forestalling more protests. “He is to be your husband. You are my daughter, Princess of this realm. One day I shall be gone and you will then be Queen. As your husband, Leurre will become King.”
“No!”
The King went on as if she had not spoken, saying, “Leurre has come to us now to begin learning how to properly rule. He shall live here, in these chambers with you, after you are wed, anyway. I’ve invited him here to the castle to settle in and begin the learning process now. Of course he won’t share these chambers until you are wed.”
“Father…” Rhyannon was so angry that she had to pause to find her voice before continuing. “Yes, if he were to marry me he would indeed be our King someday. Which is why he wants to marry me!” She caught the fleeting look of greed that passed over the changeling’s drawn face. “That’s his sole reason for wanting me! He knows he’ll be next in line for the throne if he marries me!”
“Nonsense!” Leurre said softly. “I love you, Rhyannon.”
“There,” the King said quickly, pointing at Leurre. “You see?”
“What I see, Father, is that if I were to marry this… creature…you would soon meet an untimely end. And I’m sure I’d follow soon after!”
“Beloved!” Leurre interjected, “how can you say such things? How can you even think them?”
“Rhyannon!” her father nearly bellowed, outraged. “You apologize to Leurre at once!”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort! Now do as I said and get out!”
“No,” the King said sharply. “We shall not. Again, I am your father and your King. I have ever right to be here. Leurre is your betrothed and that gives him right to be here. He has every right to visit his intended. You two need to know each other better before you are wed.”
“I know all I need to know about him and more, Father. I will not marry this piece of filth!”
“Rhyannon—”
She cut him off, speaking louder, saying, “And if you try to force me to, I swear by the gods that I’ll kill myself on the eve of Samhain!”
Both Leurre and the King stared at her in shock for long moments as she seethed silently at them. Her father recovered first.
“Rhyannon, mind your tongue! Apologize at once!”
“Your Highness?” the changeling said softly. “It’s alright. She’s just nervous. I forgive her harsh words. She’s young and the prospect of marrying looms large before her. I forgive her easily because I know how she feels. I, too, am nervous. We will have plenty of time to spend together after we are married.”
“I meant what I said,” she told them. “I’ll not marry this vile…thing…and will kill myself if you try to force the issue.”
Leurre’s only reply was a sly grin before turning and leaving her chambers. The King looked after the changeling, watching him go, before turning back to his daughter.
“You will marry him.”
“No. I will not. You may be my father and my King, but not even you can force me to marry Leurre. Call the wedding off, Father. If you don’t, I swear to you that you’ll wake on the eve of Samhain to find my cold corpse in these chambers.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his mounting anger obvious in his posture and expression. Finally, without a parting word, he turned and exited, slamming the thick wooden door closed with a sound that echoed down the hallway outside.
Rhyannon stared at the door for several seconds, hot tears filling her eyes. She turned and flung herself onto her bed, weeping openly. Her soft cries turned to hard, wracking sobs before finally subsiding into sniffles and whimpers long minutes later.
She forced herself up, wiping her eyes, first with her bare hands, and then with the sheer gossamer material she wore wrapped around her. Standing before her mirror, ignoring for once the convoluted scrollwork, she stared into the glass, struggling to compose herself. She wished desperately for a way out of the arranged marriage.
I meant what I said, though. If they try to force me to go through with the marriage, I will die by my own hand.
Chapter 3
Prince Leofrick Wykeham lay on his bed, atop the lavish quilts. He lay naked, on his back, his enlarged shaft rigid and hot in his hand as he stroked it quickly, using his own secretions as lubricant against friction.
In his mind, he was once again making love to the beautiful young woman whom he had seen bathing in the clearing stream the previous day. He whispered sweet devotions to her as he worked his manhood slowly, arousing it to greater length and firmness. Each time he felt himself nearing climax, he would slow his hand, trying to prolong the exquisite feelings of ecstasy that rolled through his fevered body, forcing away all other sensations, swallowing him body and mind.
Finally, at last, he could no longer hold back. His lean body inflexible, his back arced, his teeth grinding together, he began to climax. His burning seed landed on his bare stomach and chest, fiery hot. His hips bucked as he moved his hand quickly as he could, moaning soft words of dedication to the memory of the mysterious young woman.
Spent, he lay still, lungs heaving as he sought to catch his breath. His eyes remained closed. In his mind, his fantasy played out through its conclusion and he imagined himself holding the lovely woman, cradling her against him. He could almost feel the heat of her bare flesh pressed against his own.
After a while, he forced himself to rise from his bed. Pouring water from the pitcher into the basin, he wet a cloth and began to wash himself clean. He continued to think of the woman as he worked.
“Who are you?” he asked her memory. “I don’t even know your name, yet I’ve become obsessed with you! I don’t think I shall know peace until I’ve found you!”
Unable to force thoughts of her from his mind, he finished washing and dressed in a linen hunting shirt and leather pants. Dressed, he left his chambers and descended the stairs, making his way to the small dining room where the servants had laid out breakfast. He ate swiftly, scarcely chewing or tasting his meal, then left the castle proper for the stables. He had the stable boy on duty saddle a horse for him and mounted as soon as he could, turning the steed toward Knavesmire Woods.
“If Bryce Cartwright or anyone else asks,” he told the stable boy, “you’ve no idea where I’ve gone. Only tell them if I’ve not returned by evening.”
“Yes, my Prince,” the young boy responded.
“Good lad.”
Leofrick rode steadily, wishing to hurry, yet not wanting to overtax his mount. He made his way to the clearing in which he had seen the enigmatic young woman the afternoon before. Upon reaching the clearing, he slowed his mount to a walk and moved in the direction of the stream, casting careful looks at the ground. He could plainly see signs of his own passage, left during his search for the woman the prior day, but no sign of the woman herself.
Perplexed, he rode across the brook, checking again the place where the naked young woman had scrambled up the embankment. He found nothing. Riding a short ways further, he still saw no sign of her passing. Mystified, he turned his steed to the far tree line, aiming for the general place he thought the woman had entered. Reaching the trees, he dismounted and tied the reins to a tree, leaving the horse to graze on the verdant grass.
He entered a deeper area of Knavesmire Woods, searching the shadowed gloom for the slightest sign that the woman, or anyone else, had passed. After searching for hours he gave up, discouraged and empty-handed. He returned to his horse, untied the reins, mounted and turned back for home. He rode more quickly now, wishing to be back before the stable boy could follow his command and alert Bryce or anyone else as to where he had gone.
Reaching the stables, Leofrick found a different boy on duty. As he turned his steed over to the boy he stepped aside to allow the young man room to work. He disliked the smell of the stable, but was willing to put up with for a short while longer.
“Do you know why I’ve been out all day?” he asked the boy.
“No, my Prince,” the boy said softly, working to remove the saddle from the horse. “It’s not any of my business.”
“I was out looking for someone.”
“I hope you found him.”
“Her. And no, I didn’t.”
The boy slung the saddle over a low wooden beam and turned to take the woven blanket from the steed’s back. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Leofrick grinned, saying, “Thank you. I was hoping maybe you could help me.”
“Me, sir?” The boy turned and froze, staring up at him, his expression one of utter shock.
“Yes, you.” The Prince stepped forward slowly, speaking more softly. “I saw her yesterday while Bryce and I were out with the hunting party. She was the most ravishingly gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But she ran off before I could speak to her. I don’t know her name or where she lives or anything else about her.”
“If you saw her in Knavesmire Woods, I’d expect that she lives fairly near. Unless she was traveling, that is,” the boy said.
Leofrick nodded. “My thoughts exactly. I need to find her. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“And how might I help, my Prince?”
“I was hoping you’d recognize her if I described her to you. Anything you know about her might help me find her.”
The stable boy nodded, saying, “I hope I can be of help. What did she look like?”
Leofrick thought back, instantly loosing himself in the memory of the bathing beauty. “She was very small and delicate, not much larger that you yourself are. She was very petite, fragile-looking, actually. She had waist-length blonde hair and angelic features.”
“She sounds more child than woman, sir. Are you certain…”
“Yes. She was most definitely a woman. Do you know, or have you seen, anyone that my description might match?”
The stable boy’s expression fell. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”
Leofrick sighed. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault. I was just grasping at straws.”
“In the horse stable, my Prince? And excellent place to do so.”
Leofrick stared at the boy for a long moment, trying to figure the meaning of his words. As he watched, the boy’s expression slowly morphed into a sly grin. Leofrick glanced down at the scattered straw on the floor and the meaning of the comment struck him. He chuckled and patted the boy on the shoulder.
“Thank you. I needed the laugh. Well, I’ll leave you to your work. Thank you again for your time.”
“It was a pleasure, my Prince.”
Leaving the stable, Leofrick returned to the castle proper and climbed the stairs to his chambers. The mirth inspired by the stable boy was fading, slowly being replaced with disappointment at not being able to find the woman he sought.
In his bedchamber, he sat on the foot of his mattress and stared straight ahead, gazing at his reflection in the mirror.
There must be a way of finding her!
He sat there for a long while, wracking his mind for any idea. When nothing presented itself he heaved a deep sigh and forced himself to his feet. Leaving his chambers, he wandered the upper stories of the castle for a time, lost in thought, before returning to his chambers just prior to suppertime to wash and dress for the meal.
When he reached the dining room, he found his parents already seated. Servants were serving the evening meal. As before, the questions began the instant he was seated.
The King paused between bites, saying, “Word is circulating that you’re seeking a woman.”
“Did the stable boy—”
“No,” his father said, cutting him off. “It’s Bryce. He’s happy that you’ve finally taken such an interest in someone. He’s apparently unable to keep the news contained.”
“I should’ve known.”
“You said little about her before. Tell us about her,” his mother said.
Leofrick waited until he had a full plate before him to answer. “She not just any woman. What has Bryce told you?”
King Dugal eyed him, saying, “Not too much.”
“Tell us about her,” Queen Cara urged.
Leofrick sighed. “There’s not much to tell. I saw her. Before I could speak to her, Bryce frightened her off. It’s just like I told you yesterday evening when we had this same conversation. I don’t know her name or where she lives or anything else about her.”
“Yet you act as if you’re madly in love with her,” the King pointed out.
Leofrick nodded, saying, “I know. I can’t explain it. Even after the peculiar way she just vanished. I ought to be frightened by that. Or at least concerned. But I’m not. My only thought is to find her again.”
The Queen fixed him in place with a steely gaze, saying, “That’s still no excuse for going out today with Bryce!”
“I didn’t go far.”
The King’s own expression now matched his wife’s. “Sometimes you don’t have to, son. How many times do we have to tell you that?”
“I only went a short way into Knavesmire Woods. There are no dangers in the near end.”
“No danger?” his mother exclaimed. “Tell that to all the poor men who have disappeared in those woods over the years! That’s how Knavesmire Woods got its name, if you’ll remember your schooling. The place is named for all the poor knaves who went in and never came back out!”
His father chuckled. “Maybe the faeries got them!”
“Don’t start with that nonsense!” the Queen chided him. “We’re trying to have a serious talk with our son.”
King Dugal spread his hands. “I can’t help it if I’m a romantic at heart, my dear. I like those old stories.” He shifted his attention to Leofrick. “Since no one ever found a trace of those people, stories sprang up that the faeries got hold of them and took them across the Veil. Take care in Knavesmire Woods, lest the faeries get you, too, son.”
Queen Cara couldn’t help but laugh. She gave her husband a light smack on the hand and graced her son with a long-suffering look. “Your father wishes that faeries were real, I think.”
The King nodded, swallowing a bite of food. “We could do with some magick in the world.”
“Yes,” Leofrick agreed. “Magick seems to the only way I’m going to find this woman.”
King Dugal sobered at his son’s words. “I don’t care if you keep looking for her. But you’re to take Bryce out with you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Father,” Leofrick sighed.
“Your father is right,” Queen Cara said softly. “There are those out there who would hurt you. Or kidnap you as a way of getting at your father. Take Bryce. It’s best to be prepared.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“So tell us,” the Queen prompted, “just what’s so special about this mystifying woman? What did she do to you that’s making you obsess over her as you are?”
“I’m curious about that, myself,” the King commented.
Leofrick pushed his half-eaten meal away and leaned back in his chair, settling against the plush cushioning behind him. “I really can’t say. That’s part of why this is so strange. She sang like an angel. It was her song that led me to her. She was the most unbelievably beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. But those are the only things I know about her.”
His mother nodded, saying, “Why not forget about her? As you keep saying, the odds of finding her are slim. Even if your father put out a royal decree for every girl in the kingdom matching her description to come to the castle she may not be there. If her family lives deep enough in the woods they might not hear of the decree. Or she might not be from this kingdom. Maybe she was just passing through.”
“I know,” Leofrick said, sighing.
“So why not forget her?” the Queen pressed. “There are so many lovely young ladies in this kingdom. And there are a few Princesses in neighboring kingdoms that I know for a fact fancy you. You have a very large pool of women to choose from, all of whom would simply love to marry you. Why not stop obsessing over this one woman you don’t even know and start looking to the others?”
Leofrick sighed again. “Because I’m not interested in any of those women, Mother. We’ve had this conversation before. All they’re interested in is their public image and my money.”
“But you’re over thirty now,” the King said. “It’s time you found someone and married.”
“I will, Father. Soon as I find the right woman. And there was something special about the one I saw yesterday. If I can find her again, I might have my bride. Now, if you’ll both please excuse me…”
He stood from the table and left, going back upstairs to his chambers.
Once more in his bedchamber, Leofrick sat on the foot of his mattress, again staring at his image in the ornately scrolled mirror that stood a few feet away.
Where are you? How can I find you?
Thoughts of the unknown young woman filled his mind completely as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Slowly, his vision grew unfocused and blurred. It took him some time to grow aware of the change in the mirror’s image. His first instinct was to blink his vision clear, but he fought it, not knowing if he would lose the image or, if he did, if he would be able to get it back.
The image in the mirror was no longer his own. Leofrick found that he was staring at the unfocused image of the very woman he was so desperate to find. She wore only a long train of blue diaphanous material wrapped around her nubile form. Though the garment covered her, its sheer transparency allowed him to see her delicate pink nipples and the smooth folds of her womanhood. She was crying, sobbing hard, tears streaking down her youthful face. Her lips moved, but Leofrick could hear no sounds. Despite that, he knew, somehow he knew, that she was calling for him. She was in trouble of some kind and was calling to him for rescue. He had no idea how he was aware of that, but he was certain of it.
The shock of the realization brought him to his feet. Instinctively, he blinked and the image in the mirror was gone as if it had never been. He stared at the mirror for long moments, stunned. Then he chuckled and sat back down, chiding himself for the fantasy.
“Father,” he said softly, “your tales of faerie beings in the woods are starting to affect me, I think.”
He shook his head, trying to dismiss what he had seen. Yet he was unable to rid himself of the certainty that the woman he sought was in some type of trouble and needed him. The longer he thought, the harder his resolve grew.
“I will find you,” he said, staring at the mirror once more. “I promise that I’ll find you.”
Chapter 4
Princess Rhyannon Ensorcelledlight stood before the elaborate mirror, still clad in her filmy, gossamer silk wrap. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as she prayed silently to her patron goddess. She prayed, pouring her entire will, all of her energy, into a request for deliverance from her arranged marriage to Leurre. The thought of carrying through on her threat to end her own life as a way out of the marriage chilled her to the core. She would kill herself if it came to that, but the mere contemplation of such an act sickened her. She pleaded to the goddess, begging her for an alternative.
As Rhyannon recited her silent appeal over and over, she gradually grew aware of the fact that, though her entreaties were still directed to her patron goddess, the image of her mysterious human watcher had, once more, crept into her mind. Rhyannon realized that her prayers had gone from a request for some nebulous release from the arranged marriage to an appeal to send her enigmatic human to rescue her. The realization made her focus all the harder, imbuing her pleas with not only her desperation to escape the arranged marriage, but her desire to see the voyeuristic human again.
A knock on the heavy door of her chambers broke her concentration. Rhyannon wiped her face with her bare hands, trying in vain to dry her eyes.
“Who is it?” she asked softly, not trusting her voice.
The only response was another loud knock.
Silently cursing the interruption, she crossed from her bedchamber to the sitting room, padding to the door on bare feet. Expecting her father, come again to demand her apologies to Leurre, she took a firm grip on the hand-carved handle yanked the door open. She was stunned to see the elven servant in the hallway outside.
He was dressed in the billowing silk finery of the servant staff, their lack of nudity symbolizing their lack of freedom, their servitude. His head was slightly bowed. A silver tray was held expertly in his lean hands. A tall, tapered glass bottle of dark wine stood beside a highly-wrought, jewel-encrusted pewter goblet on the serving tray.
“As you have been in your chambers for so long,” the servant told her in a soft voice, stepping forward, placing himself in the arched doorway, “I thought that you might like a bit of refreshment. I can bring some food along, too, if it pleases you.”
Rhyannon felt a bit of her despair melt away at the elf’s quiet manner and thoughtful offering. The tirade she had been prepared to unleash still struggled to burst free. But the servant had done nothing to deserve such a rebuke.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, “but no. I’m not in the mood.”
She moved to close the door, but the elf simply stood where he was, slightly bowed, holding the tray and its contents as an offering.
When Rhyannon spoke again, her voice was firmer, taking on an edge. “No, thank you.”
Still, the elf did not move. Rhyannon felt the anger returning.
“Please return the wine to the kitchens. I don’t want it.”
Rather than voice a verbal reply, the elven servant bowed a bit lower and stepped forward, pushing by Rhyannon, forcing her backward, and entering into her sitting chamber. Outraged, the princess spun around to face the impertinent elf, shocked at his brazenness.
Before she could utter a word of the furious diatribe that came to mind, he began to shimmer. It was as if Rhyannon were seeing him through a heavy flickering of heat haze, but only the elf wavered, not the air around him. Before Rhyannon could even think to wonder what she was seeing, gone were the elven servant and his finery. Leurre stood before her, still holding the serving tray with its bottle of wine and goblet, nude but for his grimy, black loincloth.
“You refuse the gift from a servant,” he said, voice cracked and harsh, “but would you also refuse it from your husband-to-be?”
Rhyannon felt her eyes widen with her mixture of shock, indignation and horror. “How dare you? You have no right to enter these chambers! You didn’t before, when Father brought you, and you certainly don’t now without his escort! Get out!”
The changeling simply placed the tray atop an elegant bookstand, picking up the wine bottle. Uncorking it, he poured a serving of the dark fluid into the goblet and held it out to her in silent offering.
“I would refuse a drink offered to me by you if I were dying of thirst and lost in the hottest desert!” Rhyannon shouted.
Leurre’s already misshapen face crumpled into a scowl. He reached out his free hand, grasped her wrist with tacky fingers and forced her to take the goblet. Wine slopped over the edge, dampening Rhyannon’s fingers.
Instantly, she tossed the wine into the changeling’s face and swung the heavy pewter goblet at his head. Leurre’s cold, clammy fingers caught her wrist again, intercepting the blow meant to crush his skull. He gave a savage twist and she cried out, releasing the goblet. It fell, striking the rug-covered stone floor with a dull thump.
“Let go of me!” she demanded, struggling.
Without a word, Leurre turned her around, putting her back to him, and wrenched her arm up. She shrieked, pain lancing through her shoulder.