“Bargained?” the newcomer silver eyes blazed as he asked the question.
“Sanctuary for several jars of her kingdom’s elixir, and I accepted.” The inflection in her rescuer’s voice indicated deep satisfaction.
Saieke schooled her expression as the Darkan stepped forward and executed a sharp bow. His eyes flicked to her armband and over her in a quick, but thorough, assessment. She hated the stab of dread his quick appraisal wrought.
“Princess Saieke El Shyokara of Boreas, welcome to our kingdom,” he greeted. “I am Gidon Al Shra, King and Ricarkri of the Darkage.” Eyes the color of liquid mercury captured hers and the power that emanated from the king slapped at her.
Saieke dipped into a curtsy, her stomach knotting in hard cramps of fear because he knew her name and title, enough to greet her, yet she had not known the Darkage had a king. “Thank you for your greetings and sanctuary, King Gidon Al Shra. My kingdom thanks you for your generosity.”
She straightened in time to see a hard smile slash his lips. He would have felt her fear. At least she thought so. Rumors be damned. Her ignorance of their true nature increased her heart rate in bounds.
“Follow me, Princess. We will see to your comfort and speak more on this bargain.” He walked away down the hall, no he undulated, grace and power rolled in one package.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she followed the king, refusing to look behind her to see if her rescuer followed. She was relieved that the king accorded her the honor befitting her rank. The stories she had grown up on had led her to believe Darkans were huge hulking beasts with black eyes and fangs, and they lived in caves and holes in the ground.
The appearance of the castle also profoundly shocked her. Several torches illuminated the interior, throwing its beauty into stark relief. Its graceful arches and doorways were certainly impressive. Beautiful tapestries graced the stone walls, their colors magnificent, and the cloth rich and vibrant, unlike anything she had ever seen. A hulking sculpture of a three headed monster, without a doubt the sigil of the house, glared with malevolent intent. Despite that, the castle’s elegance and beauty were undeniable.
Despite his apparent civilized appearance and accommodations, she was sure the king would not understand she had no current way of fulfilling her promise. Her mind hazed over from exhaustion. She needed a bath to remove the filth and grime from her battle, food, and possibly sleep, before she could even begin to work out a solution to her predicament. They entered an antechamber where the king gestured for her to sit, with her rescuer positioning himself at the door.
“Now let’s iron out our bargain,” the king said.
Kings’ teeth, Saieke swore, so much for honoring her rank and first seeing to her comfort. “I…certainly.”
Shadows seemed to dance in the room, alive from the one great torch that blazed in the room. The chamber was quite large, with a raised dais, several chairs and a throne made from bones? A banquet lay in the center of the room filled with lemon tarts, fruited bread with cheese, roasted duck stuffed with almonds and apples, and ruby red liquid which she hoped was wine. Her nerves needed fortifying.
“Be seated princess. Eat and drink your fill.”
She sat in the great chair facing the entrance, burying all anxiety as she faced King Al Shra. Her stomach was knotted by too many nerves to eat now, but desperate to appear unflappable, she reached for a sweet and delicately bit into a lemon tart. Sweetness with a harsh tang of citrus burst over her tongue, and her stomach did an embarrassing rumble of appreciation.
Her rescuer lounged at the door, his gaze tracing her lips and neck. Unbidden interest rushed through her, and the low tug in her womb had nothing to do with fear. She cleared her throat. “I thank you for your kindness King al Shra. My journey has been an exhausting one, and I welcome the respite.” She stared at him in what she hoped was a steady fashion.
“I am eager to hear of the bargain brokered Princess.”
She took a chalice of wine and sipped to soothe the nervousness she wanted hidden. After placing the chalice on the table and dabbing crumbles from her mouth, she squared her shoulder. “While leaving Boreas my Queen’s blades and I were unexpectedly attacked by Mevians. After a brief but vicious battle that left the fate of my blades uncertain, I fled to the inside of your border and this Darkan…”
Saieke stiffened as he appeared in front of her. She tried to hold on to her regal composure. She had not seen him move. How did they do it?
He gave a curt bow. “Drac El Kyn.” The rasp of his voice slid over her, stirring heat. Please, not again. Saieke did not startle when, with a mere blink from her, he was back by the door.
She nodded once, fighting to keep a serene mien. They seemed normal thus far, and she held onto that assurance with all the training that had been imbedded into her as the Princess of Boreas. “Drac El Kyn rescued me, accepting my bargain to honor your kingdom with six jars of elixir.”
“And will your kingdom honor such a bargain?” the king’s voice was flat.
Saieke met the glacier grey of his eyes unflinchingly. “I am my kingdom. Boreas will honor my promise.”
“Will they?” a deadly murmur.
Saieke’s shoulders twitched, then she froze under the focus of their penetrating regard. They did not trust her. Her heart jerked, once, then in a furious rhythm. “I will detail a missive to my king and queen and send my armband as proof of my identity with an emissary from your court. Your emissary will be honored with the jars, I assure you.”
“And where will you be, P
rincess?” the king asked silkily. “Why are you not returning to fulfill your honored oath?”
The menace in his voice had Saieke’s gaze bouncing from the king to Drac. It stopped at her rescuer, and she blanched at the cruelty carved into his features. “I will not be returning to Boreas, your majesty. Please be assured that my bargain will be fulfilled, and the armband I will send with the parchment will be proof that it is a genuine request. It is imperative to the safety of my kingdom and myself that I continue my journey without delay.”
The king’s soft chuckle had dread tightening her stomach. Saieke fidgeted, and she gripped the legs of her caftan as the instinct to flee dominated her thoughts.
“Princess,” the king said. “For your parchment to arrive in Boreas from us would be a declaration of war. The armband of the Princess of Wind in the possession of a Darkan would only bring death; and it would be the death of your people should they march on us. Would you not agree?”