Page 49 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

“You’re welcome,” I reply, when he comes up for air.

A noise sounds behind us and he immediately covers me with his body.

“What is it?” he asks. “Is it human or beast?”

I twist my head and peek out past his torso. “It’s a fearsome beast,” I whisper as I try to repress the giggle that will give me away.

He moves off me and starts to look around. “Why do I think you jest?” he asks, a suspicious expression on his face. He spies the beautiful little fawn a few feet away from us and smiles. “A fearsome beast indeed.”

He picks his clothes up from the ground, takes my hand and leads me to the nearby stream where he washes the seed from his body and my hand.

When he is done, he pulls on his britches and tunic but leaves his feet bare. He takes my hand and leads me over to the gigantic oak tree that dominates the meadow. He sits down, with his back against its majestic bark and pulls me to him, settling me between his thighs and cradling me in his arms.

“This is a beautiful place,” he sighs into my ear. “What is it called?”

“Glencalla,” I reply.

He takes a moment before speaking but he surprises me when he does. “From my rudimentary understanding of Ardvallan, I think that means the Glen of The Goddess? Is that right?”

“Yes,” I reply and can’t hide the surprise from my voice. “I didn’t realise you spoke Ardvallan.”

He smiles. “To say I speak it would be something of a stretch. However, my mother believed it was prudent for myself and my brother to learn the languages of our neighboring realms. So, thanks to her, I have a basic level of Ardvallan.”

“That was most wise of her.”

He smiles and his expression is one of pride and love. “My mother was a wise lady, alas she wasn’t in my life half long enough.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“Fourteen.”

There’s a note of sadness in his voice but before I can ask him any more about his childhood he changes the subject. “What’s the story with the markings on the rock?” he asks, referring to the dark red streaks that run from the top to the bottom of the rock. “I’ve never seen anything quite like them.”

“Ah,” I reply, “that’s because they’re unique to this place and what allegedly happened here.”

He shifts a little behind me and I can tell he has picked up on the intrigue in my voice. “Tell me more,” he urges.

“Well, legend has it that a great confrontation took place here between the Goddess Anú and The Dark Lord.”

“Truly? In this place? What happened?”

“It’s told that the then King of Ardvalla had offered sanctuary to the Goddess from The Dark Lord in return for healing his sick son. However, The Dark Lord paid an unexpected visit and discovered the city of Valensia almost empty. When he enquired as to where all the citizens were, he was told they were attending a celebration being held by the Goddess.”

The prince interrupts me. “Let me guess, the celebration was being held here?”

I nod. “Yes, as the story goes, the first snowdrops had appeared and the Goddess wished to celebrate the end of winter and the bringing forth of new life. The Dark Lord was incensed with rage when he discovered she had been here all along when he had spent so many months looking for her. He marched the king and the lords and ladies of the castle here and had his army surround the crowd. He threatened to slaughter them and the city folk if she didn’t submit to him. Of course she did, and he had her lie on the rock whereupon he ordered her to be defiled to death.”

I feel the prince wince behind me.

“It’s said the king was forced to go first, under threat of the death of his son, after that it was the turn of the lords, most of whom did so willingly. However, some refused and the Dark Lord slaughtered their families in front of them. It’s said some of the ladies even joined in, using various implements, so eager were they to curry favour with the Dark Lord. On and on it went with some of the city folk joining in and the soldiers, until rivulets of her blood ran freely over the rock.”

“And these markings are the remnants of her blood?” he asks, his voice low and subdued.

“Yes, as the stream is of her tears. The oak behind us is known as the sacred oak, a symbol of her strength and of those who refused to do the Dark Lord’s bidding that day. There are those who believe the decline in our population is due to a hex the Goddess put on those who defiled her, cursing their seed.”

“Phew.” The prince exhales a long, slow breath. “That's some story. However, I couldn't help but notice on my walk around the city, a distinct absence of any shrines to the Goddess. When is her Celebration Day?”

I turn to face him, slightly confused at his question. “Celebration Day? What do you mean?”

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