Chapter 9 - Mortal Souls
1647 Words
Prince Samuel tried to sneak into the castle without getting noticed. His body still had some traces of blood, although his tunic was too dark to reveal anything much. Perhaps someone who peered closer would see tiny droplets. Perhaps.
“Samuel,” a calm but authoritative voice called.
He heaved a sigh of relief. It was his father. At least, it wasn’t a courtier who was oblivious to his shape-shifting ways.
“Father,” he responded, walking towards the doorway where his father seemed to have been waiting for him.
“W-was that blood?” King Adrian stuttered, which he rarely did. Samuel might have given him a fright with the stains on his arms that remained. Some stayed even after he tried to wipe the blood as much as he could.
“Yes, father. However, it is not mine.”
Father and son looked at each other silently. The prince knew what people were saying, that he looked like his father but did not act like him – at all. Samuel did not have his father’s patience and calm. Most people did not believe he could be a great king like the water warlock.
“Whose blood, then?”
Samuel hesitated. Should he tell King Adrian that he had been fighting hellhounds in the forest? That he had saved a strange female shifter-witch from these hounds? What would he say about that?
“Hounds,” Samuel finally said, shifting his gaze away from his father. The prince did not want the king to prod for more details.
“Hounds. Mm. Well, what I am about to ask of you is related to them.”
That sparked the prince’s interest, making him look back up to his father. His father was a few steps above him, standing straight with his head bowed towards Samuel. Samuel, on the other hand, had one leg two steps over the other. It said so much about them. King Adrian had reached his highest position, while Prince Samuel was only gearing to raise himself.
“I am listening, father.”
“Come and join me in my study.”
The two quietly entered the castle’s front door. The guards remained standing, faces forward toward the gates, with not one glance spared at the royal father and son. They would not have seen or smelled the blood on the prince’s king. These guards were trained to see what they needed to see and ignore what they were not supposed to notice, deaf, dumb, and blind if needed.
These guards were fortunate that there were not many things that they needed to hide in Queenspell. However, they had started to be aware of Samuel’s comings and goings. King Adrian had talked to them discreetly, assuring them of their safety and promising them added coins for their salary. As time went by, it was not only Dunstan and Fayden who had hints of the prince’s possible affliction. The young Theodore, about Samuel’s age, had known of it, as well. They were the only three who were made aware of the situation and were often assigned the night shift.
Theodore smelled the blood on the prince’s skin, but he would not say anything even if threatened with knife or bribed with gold. He had been the prince’s playmate since childhood, and it was loyalty that made him stay. Theodore knew that Samuel would never harm him. He and Fayden stood by, guarding the castle royals and not against them.
Inside the study, King Adrian and Prince Samuel prepared for a serious conversation. The prince could tell from his father’s grave face.
“My son, why did you have to kill the hounds? Did they hunt you? Provoked you?”
Samuel breathed in deeply, jaw clenched, and looked at his father dead in the eye.
“They were trying to r**e a maiden in the forest,” he said, proud of his own honesty.
“Ah. So, these hounds are not content with grabbing young maidens and eating them, as the stories say?”
The two of them were silent for a little bit as a horrible thought descended upon both. What was the fate of Carolina? Did she suffer before dying? Or did she just disappear from this realm to another?
“Apparently, not, father. It was my first kill, and I had to tear the two of them as a wolf. One escaped.”
“This young maiden? She was not terrified of you, in your wolf form?”
‘No. This maiden is a shifter. She can transform into a wolf, sometimes into a crow.”
“Mm. I wonder if she knows our crows.”
“She does. They are friends with her.”
“Then, she cannot be a bad one, then, if she were friends with our crows,” King Adrian chuckled.
“I don’t think you called me here to talk about crows and shifters, father,” Samuel wanted to get it over with. He wanted to find out what was bothering his father that he had to wait for him to return that night.
“No. It is about my abdication.”
“Are you sure you want to even consider it? Nobody thinks that I am a worthy successor. Even Carolina, if she were still here, would have been a better choice.”
“Women had certainly advanced after your mother rose to power, but you know the reality of the situation. Several citizens of Mogochislenia still hold out for a man. Some will not admit to it, afraid of your mother’s wrath and how it always comes with mine. However, many still prefer men to take the throne.”
“Are you telling me, father, that I am to be sent to appease that deep sense of prejudice that people hold in their hearts?”
“No, it is not just that. We need someone who can be sent to confer with the wolves in the forests and the rebelling male royals, without the need for a chaperone. You need to make the people of Shadowcreek feel protected. Safe. The wolves had been closing in on the different kingdoms. We want to know what they want. They might listen to a wolf like them.”
“Mm. I see. When do you plan to abdicate?”
“As soon as possible. I am giving you a fortnight to settle your affairs if need be.”
“A fortnight?” Samuel thundered, then reminded herself that he was in the presence of his father, King of Shadowcreek and King consort of Queenspell.
“I am afraid so.”
Samuel thought of Melinoe. Would he still see her if he had to move away from Queenspell?
***
“What happened to you, Melinoe?” Erishkigal asked, seeing the disarray of her ward’s clothes and the welts on her arms.
“I was attacked by your hellhounds, Mother,” spat Melinoe.
“I told you. They are not mine.”
“They surely are not father’s. I do not believe that he will send them to attack me!”
“And you think I will do that? Send hounds to attack you?”
“Whose are they, then? Have they begun thinking for themselves?”
“Come here, Melinoe,” ordered Erishkigal, effectively evading the question. She inspected the welts on her daughter’s arms. Then, she closed her eyes and passed her palms over them. A strange kind of heat, soothing and thorough, went over the young shifter-witch’s arms. It felt wonderful, she could almost feel the healing happening.
“Thank you, Mother,” she said, admiring the clear skin that emerged after the healing.
“I know your vanity. It is worse than your fear of pain,” the ancient witch murmured.
“Mother, I don’t know if I should continue with my mission.”
“Your mission?” Suddenly Erishkigal’s voice was sharp.
“Seducing and killing Prince Samuel,” Melinoe said, backing up a little. She did not want to trigger her mother’s wrath.
“Why? We have talked about this, Melinoe. For years. You have almost become a spinster because we have been biding our time, holding out for the prince.”
“Do you hear yourself, Mother? Is that what I am to you? A pawn?”
“You know you are not a pawn. As long as that family is still in power, the domain that is yours will not be as it should be.”
“The prince is not as terrible as we made him out to be, Mother,” Melinoe protested.
“And what made you change your mind? Didn’t you say you cannot imagine even falling in love with him no matter how handsome he was?”
“I did not say I am falling in love with him. B-but he saved me! He saved me from the hounds, tore into them, killing one and flaying the other.”
“He saved you? Did he ask for anything in return,” the ancient witch asked, eyeing Melinoe in suspicion.
“No, he never did. He never even deigned to touch me. He was in his wolf form.”
“But he transformed into a human in front of you? Naked?”
“Yes, Mother, but -.”
“Oh, what did I tell you about protecting yourself from that man? He has been with many women, and he knows his effect on any maiden.”
“It was not like that, Mother.”
“But who are you loyal to, Melinoe? Your prince? Or me?”
“You, Mother. Of course, it’s to you. He is not my prince, either.”
Erishkigal smiled, holding her ward’s face in both hands. Melinoe was unsure if she was admiring her beauty or her willingness to follow through with the plan. Or both.
- Writer
