Prince of Arèthane

By Kelly Riad

With a new threat of evil and her own troubled home life to contend with, Emily and Jarrad will learn the tough lessons of consequence and sacrifice. Blood will be drawn, light shed, and lines crossed as Emily finds a mended heart can still break. And when it comes to those you love, there are some choices that can't be unmade.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Riad
• Release date: Sep 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301015511

Book preview

Prologue: Prophecy’s Pool

Above Evïg Hall there exists an eternal night. Time stands still in the cold dome with columns as walls, open to an outdoors that rests on no plane, in no universe man could map. Surrounding it are only dark bushes and dense woods, low hanging branches and thick leaves that hold the shadows close.

Time watched her stand over the pool, the black waters reflecting her soft glow. In broken blinks her image jostled along the rippling waves. She pushed back her long, blonde hair, tucking it over her shoulder. It looked like she was praying, but Time knew better. She was Seeing.

What she saw was not really reflected in the water below but in her mind. The images were tangible whispers of what could be, what will be, what is at once and then is not later, flashing translucent against the world within her spasmodic sight. Prophecy said the pool is the only place the images are clearest so she stands there and stares at the waters when she really wants to see.

Her sister had never known what she knows, but she will and she will know it always. Prophecy had never told her twin what she sees. Until today.

She recited the scenes like an incomplete book with pages missing and torn, the images broken, backwards or nonsensical and Prophecy changed with it. In a past moment, her hair was raven black and her skin as pink as a cat’s tongue, her words as sharp at its claws. The time before she was entirely green and she hissed when she spoke.

Now she was herself. Several beings had monopolized her visions. The same cast of characters starring in a puzzle play and each vision brought with it another piece of the puzzle or took two pieces away. It was an ever-changing mosaic and it had consumed her.

Prophecy gasped and looked up, focusing on Time and not her vision.

Cronus!

Yes? he said to her.

He comes soon. It has begun.

Chapter 1: Power Undone

Jabari had warned her when she was little and then again in more recent years that phasing to full maturity could be a frightening experience. By others Karawyn had been told that there was little to be scared of, it was natural and though at moments uncomfortable, the body knew what it was doing and when completed, felt whole.

That hadn’t been Karawyn’s experience. Because as Jabari had always reminded her, she was different. Locked away in her own mind under a Control spell, barely able to hold conscious thought while her body acted on someone else’s orders and her tongue spoke words not her own, phasing had been one of the most frightening and painful experiences of her substantially long life. Dying afterward had been pleasant in comparison.

The initial sting in her limbs had almost freed her of her enchantment. But then the consuming burn, the feel that her bones crackled with electricity and her flesh melted from its heat had made any silly spell irrelevant. Her bedroom had burst into flames, the drapes easily catching fire and burning in seconds, the walls scorched and blackened while a storm unheard of in Arèthane raged outside. Jabari had the audacity to lock her in the dungeon deep within the mountain’s belly. It would have thrown her into a greater rage had the stone walls and cold floor not been so comforting while she burned.

Her body racked with seizures, Karawyn could do nothing but let it flail. She couldn’t wrap her arms around herself or scream or even cry; she could only be consciously aware of each excruciating sensation while nature tortured her. She had been a puppet then and a puppet couldn’t pull her own strings, not even to save herself.

Once the heat had abated and her blood cooled, the swell of power still charged through her. Jabari had tested his puppet then, channeling his most ambitious desires through her powers—achieving magical heights he could have only ever dreamed. She could create fire in the palm of her hands that scorched villages. She summoned floods. The elements were at her control even when she couldn’t control herself. She had been made a weapon; Arèthane’s queen turned against her land, her people. And it had been easy; no wait while the power built up, no fear for what it would do, no exhaustion once it had been spent.

That was all in the not-so-distant past. Her people had forgiven her; they had blamed Jabari and Malyr for her treacherous deeds. Sitting alone on the balcony of the Queen’s Chambers that had once belonged to her father, Karawyn toyed with those elements while wondering why—why had she been so easily forgiven? Did she deserve it? Did those actions not still come from some dark, dangerous place inside her?

Her body still sizzled; the feel of power was constant. She wondered if she would burn out too soon—like so many of those humans she encountered on her travels; those who had evolved beyond the common feats of man to become something greater. Like falling meteors; burning brighter as they fell to earth.

Her only relief was spending it, as she often did and did so then—staring off into the horizon, one knee up in the rounded armchair as her index finger lazily spun in the air. A small funnel cloud high in the sky mimicked the motion, her puppet now.

Somewhere in hidden emotion she had a feeling, barely discernible but there that a greater storm drew near, one beyond her control. Though the thought haunted her, she let it go, turning toward the sounds of a stirring household as her family began to rouse for the day. Dropping her hand slowly, Karawyn left the balcony to go inside, the little funnel cloud above pulling itself back in to pass over the land with the rest.

Emily awoke to a mild breeze kissing her face; she could hear the rush of water in the distance and the air smelled of wood and summer. Immobilized by comfort, only her eyes blinked and even they did so begrudgingly. She was alone in bed; she could feel the absence of his warmth. She had fallen asleep in his arms, but awoken alone.

Just like a few months ago. But at that time when she fell asleep in Jarrad’s room and woke up in her own at home, she didn’t know where he was, couldn’t find him or Dafne at school and had thought she had imagined it all when after a couple of weeks they still hadn’t appeared. She had thought her world had ended—losing her best friend and the boy she loved—had readied herself for heartbreak, but then he showed up the last week of school, waiting for her in the hall after her first period class like nothing had ever happened.

She could have killed him, except his deep-dimpled smile made for a compelling defense and he did get her out of summer school after she had accused the administration lady of being high when she told Emily she had too many absences. Then he fully made up for it by bringing her to Arèthane for the summer.

Last night they had stayed up late watching the Fairy Revelry, where all the fairies ascended to the night sky and celebrated their ancestors and gods with dance. It had been a dizzying display of twinkling lights, but after a few nights of trying to stay up with the elves that rarely slept and being warmly encased in Jarrad’s arms, she couldn’t keep her eyes open to see its end.

Frowning at finding herself alone, Emily flipped back the blankets, slid out of bed, and quietly tiptoed down the long hall to Jarrad’s bedroom. Without a sound, she pushed the impossibly high, heavy wooden door open.

The walls stretched tall, broken up by thin glass-less windows that met at rounded peaks at the top near an incredibly high ceiling. Scrolling, twisting designs ornamented their encasements as well as a wide opening that led to the balcony facing the shimmering waters of the lake below and mountain walls in front. Long, sheer drapes lightly billowed, framing the windows and the balcony door, spilling out into pale green pools of material on the stone floor.

Inside, two walls held nothing but shelves, stuffed full of books. A desk was pushed up next to a window ran over with an orderly mess of gold and silver trinkets and papers; there was an odd order to the mess with maps pinned to the walls and a large globe settled in an ornate gold stand. Some instruments Emily had never seen before sat on wooden racks. It all reflected Jarrad's personality in a subtle way. She had fallen in love with his room, though most likely more for the elf that occupied it than the space itself.

In the middle, facing the mountain-view a large bed held her sleeping prince.

Against the pale silver blankets, his tan skin glowed golden, the light, delicate material clinging to his long body that stretched diagonally as he lay on his stomach.

With a smile, she slipped onto the bed, slid her hand across his muscled back and kissed his shoulder. Good morning, she said. Jarrad raised himself up, looking around sluggishly as he rolled over under the sheets.

Good morning, darling, he said, giving her a devilish grin as he pulled the sheet up over his stomach before leaning over and kissing her neck. Fully recovered from your narcolepsy?

Giving him a sour face, Emily pouted, I told you to not let me fall asleep. I wanted to see the end of the Revelry.

I know, but you were so beautiful lying against my chest, I couldn’t bring myself to stir you. I’m sorry.

She smiled. You’re forgiven.

What would you like to do today? he asked as he propped himself up with one arm. Cliff diving, riding?

Gryphon or horse? she asked, amused by her own question.

Your choice, he replied.

Since Arèthane healed her bad heart, Emily had spent most of her summer vacation doing all of the things she previously couldn’t do, activities that could have once killed her. Each day she tried to see how much adrenaline she could pump into the underused organ with Jarrad by her side encouraging her. They had hiked all over Arèthane’s woods and climbed her mountains, explored the recesses of her caves and dove down into cold, deep pools hidden within the lower reaches of the mountain.

She had even faced her fear of falling the day they dove off a waterfall. Emily had quickly discovered Jarrad’s insatiable appetite for adventure. Her beautiful elf liked to play.

And though he had once seemed over-protective, she had since realized that was simply due to the climate of war going on at the time. Jarrad not only encouraged Emily’s own adventurous side, he seemed to really enjoy it. As evidenced by the day they had been sitting around Karawyn’s quarters, the same room where Emily had stood out on the balcony and watched the elves battle, when Emily stopped to admire a gleaming sword mounted on a nearby table. Along its blade elf writing had been etched in delicate script, the hilt made of fine gold.

Karawyn came up behind her and said, My father taught me to fight with that sword.

Emily twirled around, eyes wide. You know how to sword fight?

Karawyn made a face, offended at Emily’s surprise and doubt, and raised an eyebrow as she lifted the sword from its cradle.

Aerath, my love, she said in a voice like silk as she turned away from Emily, walking toward the center of the room. The human doubts my skills with a blade. Shall we give her a demonstration?

A wicked smile spread across the dark elf’s face as he murmured, Gods, I love it when you feel threatened. Jumping up from where he sat, he quickly withdrew his own sword, holding it loose in his fingers and the two began to circle each other.

As if she couldn’t help herself, Karawyn’s face beamed, her smile adding to its beauty. Her approach seemed to slow down time, creeping near Aerath like a predatory cat before she lunged with lightning speed, their swords meeting with an echoing ring.

With a start, Emily blinked at the force of the hit as well as the ones that continued after it. She’d had her doubts—she’d seen Aerath fight, knew his speed and strength, but Karawyn matched him, almost greeting his moves an instant before rather than head on. Knowing the outcome of Karawyn’s emotions, Emily expected the room to fall down from her outpour of power, but something about the deadly dance between the dark elf and the light elven seemed to calm Karawyn, channeling the energy that continuously flowed from her pores.

Emily had never seen a sword fight so close, so much like a ballet with both elves moving gracefully, lithely, spinning around the room somehow mindful of the furniture and any other obstacle in their way as blades cut the air, sliced so close to flesh, rang out against blocks and just barely missed bringing pain or death.

One slight misjudgment on Karawyn’s part resulted in Aerath feigning one direction, Karawyn biting on the fake and receiving a loud slap on her rear end with the flat side of Aerath’s sword. Her green eyes flashing a neon light, she turned on him, raising her hand before a gathering of energy blasted from it, throwing Aerath back off his feet, crashing into a table. Vases and splintered wood scattered around him, he quickly shook off his surprise before fixing a steady gaze on her and grating with a growl, Cheat.

Karawyn shrugged unapologetically before returning to Emily as Aerath picked himself up off the floor, shaking glass out of his long hair while fighting back a grin despite his frown. With anticipation, Emily grabbed Jarrad’s arm and insisted, Teach me!

He quirked an eyebrow. To sword fight?

Yes, teach me, please. She offered her empty hand to Karawyn; the elven placed the hilt of the sword in it, clearly amused.

As you wish, Jarrad said, rising from the sideboard he’d been leaning against. He pulled another sword from an oak closet while Emily occupied the center of the room. Jarrad returned to her, twirling the sword with an easy rotation of his wrist, facing off before her. Adopting a professorial tone, Jarrad said, Get a correct grip by aligning your wrist with the hilt. Your wrist will be where your strength comes from, it will be your rudder.

Emily adjusted her grip, surprised by how light the sword was. As if reading her thoughts, Jarrad said, That sword is elf-made, perfectly balanced between blade and hilt. Now put one foot in front of the other, keeping your legs about shoulder-length apart as much as you can. Balance is key. As long as you remain balanced, you can focus on your strike and not your step.

Emily moved in place, turning her body sideways with one foot forward, her sword raised before her.

Good, Jarrad said, mimicking her stance and raising his own sword. Never bring your feet too close together, never cross your steps. Swing your sword fully in either horizontal slashes or up and down. You may also thrust for closer range strikes. Take a couple of swings to get the feel of it.

Focusing on her wrist, Emily swung the sword around and found the motion easy, able to control the swing without the sword shaking or feeling heavy. Her confidence grew.

Well done, Jarrad said. Now, you’ll block using the third of the blade closest to the hilt to keep from being thrown off balance. Keep the sword in front of you, don’t drop your guard except for lower attacks and always dodge when you can, rather than block, to keep your sword free. Ready?

Emily nodded and Jarrad easily swung his sword out. She blocked it swinging right, rotating the blade down in an arc to then block a following low strike from the right. As she met each strike with her own, she grew even more confident, starting to really enjoy herself and so she began to swing harder, quicker while a grin turned up the corner of her mouth.

The more they circled each other, eyes locked and hits ringing out, the more Emily fell in love with the fight—the powerful dance. She loved the way Jarrad’s biceps bulged against his t-shirt sleeves, the predatory hint of a smile on his lips, the way his eyes followed her every move. Caught up in it, she began to twirl and swing out the way she had seen Karawyn move, earning a slight rise of an eyebrow, which equated to great surprise coming from her composed elf.

But then her confidence got the best of her and just as Emily had started to feel she was a natural, born fighter Jarrad dodged her thrust, twisting his torso to the side just a little, but enough to draw Emily forward. Disarming her in a blink, Jarrad then grabbed Emily’s wrist, twisting her arm behind her back and pulling her against his chest before she could even gasp her surprise.

Do you relinquish? he said in a deep, rumbling voice. Still too stunned to speak or close her mouth, Emily nodded.

Jarrad grinned before claiming her lips with his own. The kiss was short, but scorching and Emily was grateful for his hold on her.

And now I’ve lost my appetite, she heard Karawyn complain in the background.

Ignoring her, Emily smiled wide at Jarrad and said, That was fun.

Then we’ll do it often, he replied, eyes flashing before he added, and naked...

We could just spend all day in bed, Emily said, returning to the present moment.

Sitting up, she reached for the covers to wiggle beneath them, but his hand came down, holding the sheet in place. Emily looked up at him, confused and a little offended, until she noticed the tension in his jaw.

What’s wrong? she asked, sitting back on her heels.

Nothing’s wrong, he said, his voice deep, still covered in sleep. I just… He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. I’m just not wearing any clothes under here. So, if you don’t mind a little elf nudity, his gleaming eyes found hers, then by all means. Grinning, he folded the sheet back enough that his bare hip and thigh peeked beneath it, his skin smooth and tan against the material.

Emily’s heart lurched at the sight, her body tensing as she realized how thin the sheet separating them was.

Oh. Um, I’m sorry, she mumbled, not really sorry at all and unable to look away from the glimpse of flesh as he held himself up with propped arms, his legs spread in a V beneath the sheet. Her eyes roamed a little more before her face flushed with heat. I didn’t realize you slept in the nude.

I don’t when I lie with you, he watched her, still grinning, clearly amused by her discomfort. It broke her of the trance his body held her in; she looked up at him.

Well don’t let me stop you, she said, finding courage in her annoyance with his taunts.

That’s my girl. He laughed, running the back of his fingers down her cheek. Are you packed to return home?

She scowled at him. Why do we have to go back?

Because you, young lady, he touched her nose with the tip of his finger before following it with his lips, have your junior year of high school to begin.

Groaning, Emily fell back onto the pillow, crossing her arms over her chest.

Why can’t we just be a couple of high-school drop outs and stay here? she pouted.

You don’t really want to be a drop out, do you? he asked, twisting so that he hovered over her, holding himself up with both arms on either side of her. He placed a hand flat on her stomach, his touch warm through the thin cotton material of her nightgown. I’d just end up knocking you up, making you a barefoot and pregnant teen. You’d have to get a job at the Quick Stop Mart to support us, while I grew fat sitting in our trailer home chugging beer.

She laughed and pushed her fingers into his curls. That doesn’t sound too bad to me. I’d enjoy seeing you with a beer belly.

He smiled and sat up, looking down at her with soft eyes. She found herself annoyed at how skillful he was with that sheet. We only have two more years. That’s not that long to wait, is it?

I guess not.

But first we have Karawyn’s feast for our last night and afterward we’re all going to Sόmer Kϋoleωa.

What’s Su—?

It translates literally to mean Summer Death. It’s a huge festival celebrating the end of summer. There’s music, dance… He grinned. Magic. It’s a lot of fun.

Sounds exciting.

And then, he added lightly, We go home and after two years, we can come back here if you want or we can go somewhere else. We can go anywhere.

When he said that, he made Emily feel like they could go anywhere and not just anywhere like New York, but anywhere like another life. A better life. A future. No empty house where demons of adult drama haunted every corner. No embarrassing public disasters. No attacks in the woods. No scars.

Just Jarrad and endless possibility.

Chapter 2: Encounters

Emily gripped Jarrad’s hand tightly as he lead her through the colorful, undulating crowd of bodies packed tightly in Hemelstad’s town square in the shadow of the palace.

The square was actually round with a large fountain at its center. Surrounding it were old, ornate stone buildings with black cast-iron balconies and wooden-shuddered windows. Hanging lanterns swung in the wind, their candlelight hearts flickering to the beat of the music. A black velvet night hung like a low canopy above and a gentle breeze swirled through the air, kissing and caressing her skin. The masked residents of Arèthane were dressed in vibrant, rich costumes; their false faces depicting various animals.

A cat-faced elven twirled gracefully on tip toes along the edge of the fountain wall. Her long skirt fanned about her like pale yellow flower petals. A bird-masked elf blew shoots of fire from under his beak, cutting blazes against the night sky. Jugglers tossed colorfully painted balls high in the air while threading their way through the revelers. Trapeze artists flipped and flew just above their heads. Flags waved on golden posts depicting elves illustrated in various activities of play while long rainbow streamers curled and whipped past. All the bodies bounced in time to the deep beat of multiplying drums while flutes, violins, pipes, and oddly shaped guitars played.

The entire city pulsed and moved, but everyone stopped and bowed to the prince when they passed.

Emily traveled through the sights in awe while above her head a swirling Milky Way cluster of fairies moved in fluid sync with the music.

Dafne, Aerath, and Karawyn were swallowed by the party-goers; the occasional burst of fireworks exploding from the crowd with Karawyn below as its source. She didn’t look the part of Queen of the Elf World this evening. She laughed and played like a carefree teenager, casual in her thin, white, belly-baring top and long turquoise peasant skirt. Aerath watched her with delight-filled eyes, his hands holding her pale waist as she twirled and twirled. As Queen, she wore no mask.

Jarrad had on a rat mask, citing the Nutcracker as his inspiration. Otherwise, he looked very human in a light blue linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and only the three middle buttons fastened, flapping open in the breeze, exposing his tan stomach. His beige cargo shorts hung loosely from his slender waist and occasionally Emily clung to his waistband when the crowd became too much.

Emily had chosen a mask of a raven to match her black tank top and black skirt. Sweat ran in a tiny stream down the valley in her chest and drenched the hair below her ponytail. Even with the cool breeze, it was a very warm night.

A hand seized Emily’s arm, pulling her away from Jarrad. They both turned around to a grey wolf with a cloak of blonde curly hair. Dafne pushed her mask up and panted.

I’ve been looking for you, she yelled above the noise.

What? Emily cried, unable to hear her.

Come with me! she ordered, pulling Emily with both hands. Emily turned to Jarrad, his eyes and nose still hidden by his mask, but his lips quirked up in a grin.

I’ll find you, he assured her and kissed the knuckles of her hand before letting it go, allowing his sister to drag her away from him.

After maneuvering through the masses, Dafne twirled Emily around until she found herself in the center of a large group of elven with their hands linked, twirling in a giant circle. As they rotated, confetti and streamers burst above Emily’s head. She laughed as it flittered down and bounced with the beat of the music.

Dafne joined her in the middle, grabbing her hands and spinning her around and around. She let go as the pace of the music picked up with everyone jumping up and down in a great mass of rising and falling bodies. Emily removed her mask so she could breathe, laughing and dancing while the music moved faster, faster still and everyone bounced and twirled articles of clothing over their heads.

The beat picked up, the drums pounding harder, harder until Emily saw nothing but the music; a bright white light sparkling against the night sky.

Just when it felt the drums and masses of elves would hit their breaking point; that no one could move any faster, the music hit its crescendo and suddenly ceased. Everyone collapsed in a great, collective sigh, sprawled across the stone floor.

Oh, I’ve missed this, Dafne sighed as they worked their way around the fountain, most of the revelers still straggling behind in groups. She twirled her mask around her index finger while they walked; Emily had given hers to a small elven child who had shown interest in it. She carried her sandals in one hand, the pebbled ground cool beneath her feet and waved the hem of her tank top to air out her sweaty back.

I can understand why, Emily said, pushing past the crowd. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

We have one for every season, though each one has a different theme and feel. Summer’s was always my favorite.

Emily was about to ask her about the other celebrations when she caught an arm to the shoulder. Turning to apologize, the words caught short in the face of the angry glare that met her.

What else will they ruin with human presence? the tall elf growled to his companion, his angry dark eyes on Emily.

I...I’m sorry? Emily asked, confused by the sudden hostility.

How dare you, Dafne said, joining Emily on her left, confronting the two elves that had stopped before Emily. Both wore indistinct tunics, indicating no loyalty to a house, their long hair hanging down their chests, their pale faces partly shadowed by the hoods of their cowls.

How dare the Royal Family allow this infestation of Arèthane, the elf spoke up, his friend squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin defiantly.

Dafne’s face fell. Your words have a suspiciously familiar ring to them.

"And what’s wrong with that? Why should we accept this, he nodded toward Emily with his lip curled, in our world?"

Apologize at once, Jarrad’s order reverberated deep at Emily’s other side. She turned to see him without his rat mask, instead wearing his usual face of cold composure. The expressions on the other two elves changed in the prince’s presence. Emily sensed a bit of their courage diminish, even if their rebellion had not.

The elf’s nostrils flared, he stuck his chin out. And if I don’t, will you force me to Blixt Rock for my disobedience?

Jarrad’s eyes flashed, his voice dangerously calm when he spoke, but the water in the nearby fountain had begun to tumble and stir, the flames in the torches seared brighter—all revealing his true anger. I can force your arms from your body, if you prefer.

A crowd had formed around them, curious eyes and ears witness to the growing spectacle. Emily knew this wasn’t something Jarrad and Dafne should be a part of.

Jarrad, it’s okay, she said, placing her hand on his arm as she watched the crowd. The torch fire died just