Prophecy Bound: The Lightbringer Chronicles

I didn’t know that today would be the start of everything changing. There was nothing about the morning that gave me any warning of what was to come. I complete my morning salutation from the top tower, the ritual passed down to every female generation of my family, to help me master control over my fire-based soul. From here I can see the lush green gardens of the Castle grounds of Meritxell, the primary Elemental keep and my home. I make my way down the stone parapets, greeting the guards as I go with a nod. As the Queen’s only daughter and heir, they are respectful in my presence. Fire. The most volatile Element in existence, the one Elemental soul rare enough to exist only once every few thousand years; said to be a harbinger of change to the order of things. At least according to the Ornothog prophecies. Fire elementals are only vulnerable to their emotions and most of the time I have control, but I also have a temper... As I enter my chambers and move to my bedroom, I head straight for my breakfast tray. I’m starving and only become aware of the other person in the adjoining room after my first bite of toast. Not again. Mother sits on my bed, watching me through the doors. A soft knowing smile on her face. She is a weather-based water Elemental, the complete opposite to my fire. I should have sensed her earlier; I should have felt the familiar tight pull of warning in my chest, but I didn’t. I roll my eyes heavenward and shrug. No matter how many times I try, she still manages to get past my defensive senses. Where other pure-bloods would ignite my flames, my Element knows that she doesn’t pose a threat to me. I move towards her slowly, noting her formal attire with trepidation. Her dark hair has been artfully arranged on her head and covered in a pearl-encrusted snood. She has her deep red ceremonial clothes on. A ceremony? What ceremony? My mind is blank. My brow furrows in concentration. Uneasy flames lick the inside of my chest. “Don’t give me that look, Saoirse. You have known about this day for over a month.” One perfectly formed dark brow arches. “Now hurry up and get dressed. I will send Pryderi to fix your hair.” She has my ceremonial clothes laid across my dowry box and I stifle a groan as the realisation hits me. “The Lupinel delegation is today, isn’t it?” She nods her head then kisses my cheek as she passes. “You have half an hour at best. Don’t be late.” My ceremonial robes are a combination of red and yellow silk. The outer robe is sombre brown wool, but with white fur trimming. Lothair, my father designed it for me. As the Queen's consort and head of her War council, he is present at all ceremonies. He’s Avarian, which is controversial. They met when she was very young and had to fight my grandfather to stay together. I just manage to finish dressing when Pryderi, my maid and best friend, arrives. She sits me at my small, mirrored dressing table, and she tells me about the Lupinel envoy that’s arrived. I only half listen to her and give her a friendly, thankful pat on the shoulder as she finishes getting my unruly hair in order. She returns it with a lopsided grin that wishes me luck, knowing I will probably need it. I hurry down to the ceremonial chamber, trying not to trip over my long skirts and praying I’m not late. Father stands waiting for me by the door, his dark navy-blue coat fits his tall frame perfectly. He smiles when he sees me approach and I give him a tense grin that tells him exactly what I think of being in ceremonial robes. “You might hate them, but you look beautiful,” He tells me through the pathway of our linked minds from our Avarian mindspeak. He puts his hands on my shoulders and gives them an encouraging squeeze, dropping a kiss on my brow. “Sure, but you have to say that as my father. Let’s get this over with and make mother happy before my true nature makes itself known.” I reply, and he chuckles. Being half-breed, unlike pure-blooded Avarians, I am only able to mindspeak with kin. Father can speak with any other Avarian and his true mate, my mother. I take his arm as he guides me into the room to the dais without a thought to the other occupants in the chamber; the council and their mates bow low as we pass, averting their gaze. The swirl of warning hits my stomach as I pass a dozen pure blood elementals, uncomfortable but unavoidable, they feel it too. Somehow, we all manage to suppress it and our elements, after all, peace must be maintained. Mother sits regally, looking every bit the Queen and a formidable foe of the stories told about her. She graces Lothair with a stunning smile, which my father returns, and then she turns to me with the same warm greeting. Father leads me to the space behind her and then takes his place at her side. Her body relaxes a little at his presence. “They are outside now. We need this treaty to be a success - Are we all ready?” she asks under her breath, her eyes, narrowing for a second on my hair, which I’m sure is trying to escape but not commenting. “As ready as we will ever be mother, let’s let them in.” I whisper back and nod at the pages by the door. A thunderous knock sounds at the door to announce our guest’s arrival. My stomach suddenly flutters nervously, as if my fire is agitated. The doors open silently, and the room stops to watch the envoy approach. I don’t know what I expected but the large formidable looking man, dressed in brown and grey linen that walks towards us, is not it. He stops five feet away – his sheer size in comparison to the Elementals on the sidelines is staggering. I had heard that Lupinel’s were big, but I didn’t expect them to be this big, he is at least a head taller than all of the men in the hall. How they were ever kept as slaves for as long as they were, I will never understand. His voice booms around the silent room, and echoes off the thick stonewalls. “His Majesty King Lyall and Queen Malvina of the Lupinel clans. Their highnesses Prince Lycur and Princess Lyva approach.” His voice booms around the silent room, and echoes off the thick stonewalls. Mother stands, out of respect, as the convoy enters the room. I rise with father beside her and hold my breath expectantly. King Lyall is a massive man, taller and broader than my father by at least three inches; his face is covered in a bushy red beard, but his eyes are a soft, hypnotic shade of brown. He watches Mother intently, assessing her, as he gets closer. I can imagine that he can use his shrewd gaze to strike fear in the heart of his enemies. I can barely breathe myself; I’m completely overwhelmed by him. “He’s very big.” I comment to Father, my face passive and gaze focused on the Lupinel King, trying to give nothing away to guests. “He has to be, otherwise the other clans would challenge him. And he is a direct descendent of Ly, the first Lupinel King The whole clan is known for their size and strength.” He returns. I’m impressed. Ly led the revolution that freed the Lupinel clans from s*****y. He is a hero of massive proportions to their people. On the King’s arm clings a small dark, unhappy-looking woman, who I assume is Queen Malvina. They strike me as an odd match, and something about her sends a warning through me — the flames tickle my palms. “Not now, keep it in check.” Father warns. I glance at him and nod – I extinguish them quickly. This is not a good start to my veneer of perfect decorum. Queen Malvina is hard looking; her long pointed nose looks like a sharp hook between her small, pinched eyes. Her mouth is twisted into a permanent disapproving line, and her dark curled hair is pulled severely back from her face. She holds herself away from him even as she clutches his arm. “Whatever possessed him to marry her?” I ask father through our link, but don’t get an answer. They stop before Mother. Malvina gives the briefest of curtsies, barely respectful and I instantly dislike her. Heat starts to travel through my body again. I want to force her to kneel. Lothair, my father, feeling the change in my mood, gives me a quick warning look, “Calm yourself Saoirse, they are guests.” Inhaling slowly, I stamp the heat back down again, willing my temper to calm. My senses have been triggered and are now on alert, ready to retaliate if needed. Mother offers both of her hands to King Lyall in a friendly, less formal greeting. They have previously formed brief strategic alliances but nothing permanent. He takes her arms warmly, a massive smile on his face, squeezing ever so slightly in return, in friendship. When he smiles, he looks more like a cuddly giant than a formidable warrior. Queen Malvina stiffens, I note when she witnesses their show of comradeship. She glares at their clasped hands resentfully. “I said, calm down, Saoirse I saw it too, be she is not the one we are making a treaty with, so ignore her.” Father chides again. My nose wrinkles with distaste at both the rebuke and the blatant disrespect. I have to look away before my temper gets the better of me again. The flames are making my palms itch now. If I could just let a little flame spark, I would feel a lot better. I start to open my hand. “Saoirse!” “I know, I know. I’m trying.” I answer my father’s urgent warning, barely in control, quickly fisting my fingers before the flame ignites. He gives me another sharp look. “I will not catch fire, I will not ignite, I promise” I assure him silently and grit my teeth. I look behind her trying to find a safer focal point. Uh-oh. My eyes meet and fix on a pair of the darkest green eyes that I have ever seen. They stare back unabashedly, as they evaluate me shrewdly, and I wrinkle my nose again, my eyes narrow as we continue our stare off. What are you staring at? I silently challenge him.