Chapter 8 8
Elias's POV
Vaera discovered my presence in the chambers, three weeks after I trained Narnia out of the dungeon. I was avoiding her, coming up with feeble excuses and diving into paperwork and council meetings. But she was no woman for whom evasion came easily.
Without knocking she swept into the room, her scarlet dress crackling and snapping at its skirts against her green eyes that glowed with malignancy.
“We have to talk,” she said, very close the door after her.
I put aside the report I had been pretending to read and turned to her. "About what?"
"About you." She came across the room and faced me with folded arms. "You've kept away for weeks, Elias. You barely speak to me. You refuse to touch me. You feel ghostly as you wander the halls at night. What is wrong with you?"
There was a flash of annoyance. "Nothing is wrong. I have been occupied with the war.”
“The war,” she said again with dripping disbelief. “Three weeks not leading one raid on you! You haven't gotten as far as the armory.” You have not experienced weapons training, even. The officers are starting to speak.”
“Let them talk,” I replied, getting up. "I am still the king."
Vaera made a step nearer, the lines in her eyes softly hardening. "Is it the wolf girl?" she asked coldly.
The allegation landed harder than it deserved. I made an effort to look her in the eye. "That is absurd."
"Is it?" Vaera's voice rose. “You had her moved from the dungeon. You gave her your cloak. You watch her constantly, Elias. You think I haven't seen that?”
“She is in my care,” I said stiffly. "That is all."
“Under your watch,” Vaera mimicked sarcastically. "Why? She is nothing. A servant girl who has betrayed us, who has taken up our time.” Why does she matter to you?"
I did not have an answer. Not one I could say aloud.
Vaera blinked at me for a second or two, then her face changed. The anger drained, and in its place was something colder. Something calculating. She took my hand and placed it on her stomach.
"I'm pregnant with your baby, Elias," she murmured. "We must marry immediately."
The words landed like a punch to the gut. I looked at her, my head spinning. "What?"
"I am with child," said Vaera, calmly. "With your heir. The Guild has, of course, been notified. The council is pleased. Preparations are underway."
My hand recoiled my heart was racing. I attempted to conjure up the last time we had been together but it seemed a fade, vague memory. Weeks had passed. Maybe more. I was so per-occupied, so overwhelmed by what was developing in my own body that I had barely even realized she had been there.
“This isn’t the time,” I said, my voice drinking rough.
“Then there is no better time,” Vaera retorted. "The kingdom needs stability. The Guild wants to make sure you're loyal. And I need a crown, Elias."
Her honesty was startling. She did not steal my heart with feigned affection. She didn’t talk about love or partnership. She sought power, and I was her instrument of that gain.
"The wedding is in two weeks," Vaera added, brushing her dress. "The Guild has a message to the Archon. He will officiate. Everything is arranged."
But she was gone before I could argue, and there I stood alone once more, the closed door staring me in the face, the walls closing in around me.
That evening I could not sleep.
I cannot sleep; I’m lying in bed, stiff and agitated, looking at the ceiling. My wolf was alive inside me, stalking, pacing, filling my head with frenetic furor. Over the past week or so I had began to get accustomed to this sensation, but tonight it was more intense. More insistent.
Eventually I had to get up and abandon sleep. Grasping a cloak, I sallied forth from my chamber, and groped my way through the dark labyrinths of corridors without aim. My feet led me there without my being aware of where I was going, and I stood outside the little room where Narnia lay asleep.
The door was slightly ajar. I carefully opened it up and entered in.
She was asleep, her knees drawn up beneath the thin blanket, white hair spread out on the pillow. Her skin was silver in the moonlight through the window and I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
She looked peaceful. Fragile. Beautiful in a manner that was painful to something inside me.
I stood in the doorway watching her breathe and felt the restless energy inside of me subside.” My wolf settled. The perpetual knot in my body untangled. For days, I had felt a stillness sweep over me.
I did not understand it. I had no idea why having her here did this to me. But I could not deny it.
I lingered there far too long, watching her sleep before I finally turned away and went back to my rooms. That evening was the first I slept without a nightmare in weeks.
Two days later Brother Malarik sent for me. It was a short, urgent message from the young priest, who would not give further details. I hurried to his study, dismissing my guards and locking the door behind me.
Malarik was pacing back and forth near the window, wadded-up old books and scrolls all around. His complexion was pasty and his eyes were shadowed by strain.
“I found something,” he said, not bothering with a greeting. “Something the Guild has hidden for centuries.”
He indicated the table, where an old book was spread out. The pages were yellow and brittle, the faded ink spidery. I went in close, trying to decipher the old symbols and words.
"The Lunalshits were never to be fully killed off," Malachrek murmured. “The doctrine was made a mockery of by the Guild’s founders. We were supposed to coexist."
I stared at him. "What are you saying?"
Malarik indicated a passage in the text. "This describes the Moonlight Guardians. A legendary line of silver wolves with incredible healing powers. They were revered, Elias. Not hunted. Not killed. The Guild made monsters out of them in order to legitimise the slaughter.”
My chest tightened. "Why?"
"Power," Malarik said bitterly. "The Guild found that the blood of the Moonlight Guardians was capable of healing any wound, curing any illness and even had the added side-effect of increasing human strength. They wanted to harvest it. He becomes an army of one and won’t stop until every last man is brought to his knees.”
I felt sick. "And Narnia?"
"If she's one of them," Malarik looked into my eyes, "then she is the key to it all. Her blood could save lives. Either that or the Guild will use her to make weapons.”
He leaned in, his face serious. "Protect her, Elias. The Archon will come back for her. And when he does, he won't stop until she is his.”
Raichu sat on her shoulder and I absentmindedly rubbed the top of its head, standing up as I left Malarik's study with my mind racing a mile a minute, dread pushing down deep into my heart. The wedding was just under two weeks away. The Archon was coming. And I didn’t know how I was going to save Narnia from the armies that were drawing nearer all the time.
I wandered through the corridors in a trance, not even sure where I was headed. And then I saw her.
Narnia was bearing a pile of sheets, her head lowered, her pace cautious. I guess she hadn't seen me yet. But then she looked up at me, and our eyes met.
For a moment the world was suspended.
Her skin appeared to glow with a soft, silvery light. Her eyes shone at me, gold for one eye and a grey in the other, I could feel my wolf scream to life inside of me so hard I thought I was going to buckle on the floor.
Mate.
The word resonated in my head, indisputable and final.
Mate.