Betrothed (7 page)

Knowing that Leif was just a creation of my imagination dredged from my subconscious to help me find my parents did not stop me from wanting him. Each night I went to bed yearning to meet him in my sleep. As the nights passed and the dreams remained absent, not only did I miss him—horribly and ridiculously—but I felt the link to my birth parents become more and more tenuous. If I didn’t have the gift they’d left for me, it would have been difficult to believe they even existed.

I knew every detail of the jewellery box. It was oval in shape, made of smooth honey-coloured wood—the grain streaked with gold. In the centre was a painting of a man and woman embracing, utterly captivated with each other. She looked up to him, her pale blond hair flowing down her back. His hands rested on her hips as he returned her attention. The more I studied the image the more I thought I saw the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. The box sat in the middle of my bedside table, the gem-like stones that formed a chain of flowers around the edge of the lid flashing rainbows around the room when the sun fell on them.

On the fifth night I imagined I heard Leif calling before I’d even lost consciousness. He was waiting by the river and smiled
when he saw me. But the expression soon flickered away to reveal one less comforting.

‘I have news, Marla, and I’m afraid the knowledge of it might change how you think of me.’

I looked up into his dark and worried eyes and knew that I could feel nothing but love for him. ‘Impossible,’ I said, shaking my head. His face relaxed into relief and my heart swelled. ‘I’ve missed you, Leif.’

His mouth curved into an adorable grin. ‘How much have you missed me?’ He reached for my hands and laced his fingers with mine. My heart reacted instantly, a tiny drum picking up its pace.

‘Much,’ I answered honestly and sighed long and loud as I brought one of his hands to my lips.

He laughed, but I didn’t care—I was too lost in pleasure.

‘We need to talk,’ he said when I released him.

He led me to the edge of the river and sat on one of the rocks there, leaving a space for me beside him. I sat close, basking in his warmth; it was like having my own sun. He glanced down, noticed me watching him, and wound an arm about my shoulder. Yum. His heat zinged into me, filling me all the way to my fingers and toes.

‘I have much to tell you but I think first you need to know more about me.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I am not common Fae, Marla.’ Was there even such a thing? The words ‘common’ and ‘Fae’ simply did not belong in the same breath. I waited for him to continue. ‘I am prince—the youngest in the royal bloodline.’ He seemed to become more upright as the words left his mouth, his chin lifting a little.

Leif watched me, quiet, while I considered this new information. I not only had myself a faery, I had myself a faery prince!

‘Leif, if you’re a faery prince and I’m your betrothed, does that make me a faery princess?’

‘You will be when we are married,’ he answered. ‘And one day you will be my queen.’

‘Married! You’re a bit young to be thinking about that, aren’t you?’ I said with what I hoped was a casual chuckle. But inside I’d gone all quivery.

‘It is usual for our kind to marry young, especially when the marriage is between the betrothed.’

‘Isn’t it always?’

‘Occasionally the non-betrothed will marry, but it rarely happens by choice. As I think you have discovered for yourself, the pull of attraction between the betrothed is quite irresistible.’

‘Oh yes,’ I agreed.

He smiled and brought me closer. ‘Usually the Fae will only marry another if the connection to their other half has been broken. There can be love and desire between the non-betrothed, but not that same level of perfection.’ His eyes were full of meaning, but I had no idea where this was going. ‘Marla, my father never knew his betrothed.’

‘How come?’

‘She did not answer his call.’

‘Why wouldn’t she?’

After a brief pause he said, ‘She was not alive to answer.’

‘Your poor father.’ I knew firsthand the strength of the betrothal connection—dream or not, the thought of not having Leif made me ache.

‘You may not feel much sympathy for my father when you hear what happened as a result,’ Leif said, his voice quiet as he peered into the forest on the other side of the river.

I watched him, waiting.

His eyes, when they returned to mine, seemed full of shadows. ‘When you told me the names of your parents, they were familiar to me. I recalled a day some years before when I heard them
whispered amongst three of my father’s most high guard. That night over dinner I asked my father who Finelle and Tobias were. He gave me no answer but told me to repeat what I had heard.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘Mere fragments—something about them being trouble for the king. It was more the clandestine nature of the conversation that captured my attention, and the guards’ fear when they realised my presence. Had they not reacted so, I’m sure I would not have noticed the incident. Anyway, not wanting to get them into strife, I told my father I’d heard nothing really. Even so, the next day the men were absent from the guard.’

‘He got rid of them?’

Leif indicated that he had, then said, ‘So, with no intention of confronting my father after his previous reaction, it was no easy task to find one with knowledge of your parents.’

‘But you managed?’

‘I did, and the conversation was very revealing. I learned that after my father inherited this kingdom he began the search for a marriage partner. Until that time he’d been content with the . . . attention he received from his father’s female subjects.’

‘You’re talking about the romantic kind of attention, right?’

‘I am.’

‘But didn’t your father’s subjects have betrothed partners of their own?’

Leif shifted a little as though he were trying to get comfortable. ‘Not all,’ he said eventually. ‘In any case, as a new king, my father needed more—he needed a queen. Not only to give him the son who would continue the royal line, but also to support him in his new role. A Fae king is absolute ruler; it is a relentless task and consuming. He needed a young woman, one who had not yet had her pregnancy. Young, unattached Fae do exist for one reason or another but, as king, my father did not
wish to be limited in his choice. He believed he had . . . certain rights.’ His eyes searched my face, wondering if I was picking up his meaning. I was.

‘He thought he could have whoever he wanted.’

‘Yes.’ Leif sighed. ‘Growing up prince made him well-used to having his way.’

‘Are you used to having your way too?’

‘To a degree, I suppose I am,’ Leif admitted. ‘Anyway, my father rejected each of the unattached girls presented to him. None of them appealed. And then he met your mother. He first saw her when he was visiting one of the local markets and from what I have been told, was instantly captivated. She was sixteen and must have already known her betrothed. Had she not, my father could easily have made her his own.’

‘How?’ If she felt any of what I felt for Leif, I didn’t see how it would be possible.

‘There is only one thing that can distract a female from her betrothed—make her question her commitment to him. Two things actually, one is the prince and the other is a king—particularly her own king. There is not a fae woman born, partnered or single, who, when in his presence, can resist the desires of her king.’

‘I don’t think the men of Faera could be happy about that.’

‘Perhaps not, but it is expected and accepted nonetheless. Besides, a woman might go her whole life and be in the presence of her king but once, and it is rare for her to come across the prince. Certainly few get near enough to either king or prince to address them. But when they do, females can become quite . . . excited.’

I knew I was excited in Leif’s presence so I sure wasn’t surprised that other girls would be too. I didn’t much like the thought of it though. It was probably a good thing this was just a dream.

‘Have you experienced this female
excitement
for yourself, Leif, since you’re a prince and all?’

‘I have, of course, but it is of little consequence. You are the one for me, Marla.’

I felt all warm inside. ‘I could resist the king,’ I told him.

Leif smiled. ‘Hopefully not when that king is me.’

‘As if I could resist you! But any other king—piece of cake.’

‘Piece of cake?’

‘It means it would be easy for me to resist any king but you.’ Leif looked sceptical but made no comment. ‘I could,’ I insisted.

‘You would be surprised, Marla.’

‘It would be no problem at all. But tell me what happened after our parents met.’

‘They began to spend time together and whether it’s true or not, my father believed your mother encouraged him.’

‘Do you think it’s true?’

Leif sighed. ‘I don’t know—perhaps; I have been told she continued to see him up until she married your father.’

‘Your dad must have been upset.’

‘Upset, enraged and, most terrible for her, humiliated.’

‘Why was that most terrible?’

‘What you think you know of the Fae is nothing more than the stuff of human imagination, Marla. We are not the mild, sweet creatures you might think us to be. The Fae—males in particular and especially those of the royal line—are fiercely protective and loyal. But we can also be savage and wild and, above all else, proud.’

‘But you’re a prince and you’re not like that at all,’ I protested.

‘Am I not?’ He smiled at me, his eyes soft.

‘No, you’re not,’ I insisted. ‘You’re sweet and gentle.’

‘Ah, but Marla, you forget, you are my betrothed. How could I not be sweet and gentle with you?’

‘I can’t imagine you being any other way.’

‘Nor could I be any other way with you. But my father did not have the same connection with your mother that I have with you. He wanted her, believed he loved her, but what he did next proved that he did not.’

‘What did he do?’

‘Apparently he was crazy with the shame of your mother’s rejection. He ranted around the castle, swearing vengeance. And here’s where it gets terrible.’ Leif took both of my hands into his. ‘I hate to tell you what he decided, Marla.’

‘I can take it.’

‘Your mother was no longer pure in my father’s eyes so when she offered to relinquish her husband and return to him, he refused her. And as punishment for choosing your father, he decided that if he couldn’t have Finelle, then Finelle couldn’t have her child.’

I could feel the blood leave my face. ‘You’re talking about me?’

Leif dropped my hands and put his arms around me. ‘Marla, you were not yet conceived. My father spoke of a child not yet in existence. His decree forbade your mother her pregnancy.’

‘Her pregnancy? Which pregnancy, the first, the second . . . ?’

‘Fae women have only one.’

‘So your father wants me dead,’ I whispered. I wanted to throw up.

Leif was on his feet. He scooped me into his arms and held me against him. ‘Marla, I will fix it, I will make it all right.’

He kissed me then. I knew he did it to distract me, to take the shock away, and it worked. My arms came around his neck, my fingers vanishing into his hair. His lips, warm and nurturing at first, quickly became hot and demanding as I returned the kiss with a greed I never knew I possessed. The force of it shocked me, but I was so consumed by him I barely gave it a thought. Sparks
flashed wildly through my body and nothing else mattered but this brand-new need. But as I clutched him to me, I felt him pull away. I allowed it, but didn’t like it. All I really wanted to do was beg for more.

‘Not like this, Marla. Not because you’re sad. I want to love you when you’re happy. I want to love you when everything has been put right and you are standing beside me in Faera where you belong.’

The man of my dreams was certainly a gentleman.

‘Can you make it happen, Leif?’

‘I know I can,’ he said, his face determined. He set me back on my feet and kissed my cheek. I was just about to tell him my theory on why he didn’t wear a shirt when the alarm clock roused me from my slumber.

Disappointment engulfed me as I returned to the real world. I lay in bed, recovering, still burning from Leif’s kiss, wondering what it all meant. I had no doubt that my dreams were somehow connected to my true identity. But could that be all there was to them? Oh, I hoped not. But how could it be otherwise? I sighed. I must be crazy to imagine that these dreams could be anything but fantasy. But they felt so real! Besides that, my lips throbbed from that kiss and I could still recall the texture of his thick dark hair tangled in my fingers. I knew the sensation of my body pressed to his, his hand in mine. I remembered every contour of his face. How wonderful it would be if Leif did exist somehow. It was absurd,
I
was absurd. Leif was nothing but the perfect creation of my subconscious, something symbolic representing an innate yearning to discover my identity.

Back and forth my thoughts roamed until reluctantly I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the shower. I washed quickly and got ready for school.