Wherein Morrigana meets the Lord Shalafae. Betrayal and heartache, and imminent rape.
***
I strode down the hall on Uncle Calsean's arm, hiding my trepidation as best I could. Mother always says to show no weakness amongst lesser races, and that all races are beneath the dragons.
I drew my shoulders back, as regal as I could be in the restrictive
human form and awkward suede dress. Fourteen was not too young to be
proud and strong.
Calsean had said very little since waking me in
the pre-dawn on Aldebaran, just what to wear and how to look, then he'd
teleported us to this dark world. I couldn't tell where we were, other
than the same dimension as the clan home. There was plenty of magic, but
not the kind I was familiar with.
A shiver ran up my spine as the
whistle of wind increased. I'd heard it since we arrived at this
massive castle, though I'd seen no evidence that it was real. Soft and
melancholy, it chilled me to the core. A more violent shiver passed
through my entire body; Uncle Calsean patted my hand reassuringly.
When I met his gaze, it was anything but reassuring.
I
wanted to ask him why we were here, but my tongue seemed three times
too big for my mouth. We'd been walking for several minutes without
seeing anyone else, nor had we reached the end of this enormous hall.
Two dragon warriors could have flown wingtip-to-tip without touching the
walls, and the ceiling was consumed in shadows. Everything was made of
black marble, the red veins seeming to throb beneath the mirror polish.
Our bootheels clicked with each step, the bare walls offering only crisp
echoes.
The wind rose in a shriek as magic tingled sharply across
my skin. I gasped at the sensation and halted; Calsean was forced to
stop with me. We'd apparently walked through a web of illusion, the
breaking of which had put my hairs on end, nibbling on every nerve.
But we'd found the end of the hall.
A
massive chandelier cast silvery light upon a dais and black throne. A
painting took up the entire back wall; a man and woman stood
back-to-back amidst a field of the slain. Every race was represented,
depicted in various states of pain and slaughter. I was impressed by the
level of detail, and wanted to study it for every hidden gem.
But
the throne intrigued me more. It hummed in my mind like obsidian, and
it definitely looked like it had been sung into being, not carved. A
great robed figure made up the back, it's robe open to let skulls spill
out to form the seat and arms.
I wanted to know who could sit such a throne; the left arm was shaped like a dragon skull.
“She's
more beautiful than you told me,” a voice said from behind us. My heart
leapt to my throat, and I tried not to spin too quickly and reveal my
fear. When I saw the speaker, there felt like I could hide very little
from him.
He was albino, though his irises were blue not red.
Uplifted eyes like an elf marked his race, though their shape and the
sweep of his ears were from an obscure clan. Long hair was braided away
from his face in an elaborate design, and a simple silver band encircled
his head. Silk robes were highly embroidered, and they highlighted is
trim, tall body. We both wore heeled boots, and were of a height, though
I was of a heavier build.
It was his eyes I couldn't look away
from. They haunted me, as if from a dream. Or a nightmare. They pierced
to the very root of my soul, exposing every dark secret, every weakness,
leaving me vulnerable and naked to his stare.
Mother's remembered voice echoed through my head. “Never be less than proud. No one is better than you, despite your mixed blood.”
I was only half, but that still meant I was dragon, that I was better
than this unknown elf lord. I would not be treated like some peasant
girl.
“Who are you to address us with such familiarity?” I drew my
shoulders back and lifted my chin; the posture of a dragon looking down
they're snout at an upstart challenger.
My uncle stiffened beside
me, and it took every ounce of willpower not to look at him. Why would
he fear this man? “I'm sorry, my lord. She's young, and-”
The
stranger cut him off with a small gesture, smiling at me. Smirking,
rather, eyes narrowed and boring into my skull. “You should be sorry. I
expected that you would have explained to her why she was here.”
Ice
stole into my veins. Was this another suitor, chosen by Leyisha's
schemes? My chin dropped a notch, my shoulders not riding as high.
Dragon arrogance and clan pride kept me from taking a draconic mate; why
hadn't it stopped her from conceiving me?
The albino elf bowed
suddenly, deeply, with right hand over his heart. hair cascading forward
over his shoulders. “Greetings, Morrigana, princess of the Takishidar
Clan. I,Ulrin Shalafae, Lord of Lost Souls, Master of the Dreaming
Throne, Last Emperor of the Sidhehan Empire, titles ad naseum, am
honored to make your acquaintance.” He glanced up through his lashes,
giving me a serpent's smile. “May I tell you that you are more beautiful
than I have ever been told?”
I couldn't suppress the shiver that
ran up the length of my spine. Uncle Calsean patted my hand, but I felt
utterly alone as I watched the elf lord straighten and step closer. What
was going on here? Mother wanted to use me as a pawn to strengthen the
clan through outside means; this man seemed to have titles galore, but
did he have the power that went with them?
Lord Shalafae reached
into a pocket of his robes and withdrew a silver necklace. “To
commemorate our meeting, may I offer the lady a gift?”
Calsean
squeezed my hand, pulling me back half a step. “My lord.” His voice held
a slight growl, with less deference than anything he'd said so far.
Part
of me wanted to look at my uncle, get a better reading of what upset
him so deeply, but I couldn't take my eyes off the ruby hanging from the
necklace. It sparked and flashed with inner fire, the deep color of
thick blood, perfectly smooth and shaped like a tear. I'd never seen
anything quite like it, had never felt one so powerful.
“It's just
a necklace,” the albino said softly, setting the ruby to swinging.
“Just a beautiful gift for a beautiful young lady. If she wants it.”
His
attempt at enticement worked. I wanted the gem, wanted to hold it and
touch it and taste it. Dragons were well-known for their love of bright
and shiny objects, and my hybrid nature did nothing to quell that
desire. “I'll take it,” I said softly, reaching for the necklace.
Lord Shalafae gave a small sound of triumph, then gestured with his free hand. “Turn around. Lift your hair.”
I
followed his instructions, pulling my black hair into a mass atop my
head. As the elf lord approached, I met my uncle's eyes. They were
painfully sad, but his jaw was set in a fierce line. If he were so
bothered by this man, why bring me here?
When our host stood
directly behind me, I had a sudden inkling of what my uncle feared.
Shalafae's aura wove though mine like a graveyard mist, passing through
every defense I had built. My heart raced and breathing was difficult,
but I didn't move away. Didn't want to move away.
He
wrapped the necklace around my neck, fingertips brushing my skin; a
small sigh escaped me, goosebumps racing up my arms. Shalafae clasped
the chain, and it felt as though winter descended upon my soul. A frown
creased my brows, and I started to step away.
Lord Shalafae
wrapped his arms around me in a fierce grip, mouth falling to my throat.
I cried out, eyes wide with terror, clawing at his wrists. I needed to
be free, but I couldn't break his grip How was he this strong? Why
wasn't Calsean helping me?
My attacker began to feed then, drawing
on my ki in ways I didn't expect, that I was too young to know. He bit
down, his teeth tearing at tender skin, painful, causing me to attempt
to pull away. There was no escape though.
I tried to transform, to drop this cumbersome form, to take my natural shape. Lash out with claws and teeth, then fly away.
But
I couldn't. The magic wouldn't respond. Bones didn't shift, flesh
didn't stretch, wings remained dormant. I hung helpless in his arms,
being slowly drained, my knees buckling. “Uncle,” I whimpered, aching
with the need for freedom.
Lord Shalafae broke his bite with a
groan, his arms shifting around my torso, holding me upright. “Oh,
surprise of surprises,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear. Tears ran
down my face, and I cringed away from the kiss he planted on my cheek.
“She's more innocent than I expected. Tell your rheksha her tribute is acceptable.”
What
could he possibly mean by tribute? I stared at my uncle, imploring him
to contradict the evil man holding me. He wouldn't meet my gaze, keeping
his eyes lowered; he nodded and walked past us.
“No!” I shrieked
with all the strength of my young voice. Fresh tears ran in hot trails
from my eyes, and I struggled and kicked, praying at Shalafae's
restraining hands. “Don't leave me. Uncle!” I barely heard his
retreating footsteps over my sobs.
The lord lowered his mouth to my neck again. “Now the real fun begins.”
