Page 78 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

I nod. “Yes, Kes, it’s fine. Aaran intends me no harm.”

The Khaleeni pull back their spears and retreat. Kes leaves with them but I’ve no doubt she will keep a watchful eye from a concealed vantage point.

“We are alone, Aaran. Please tell me what it is that so upsets you,” I command him.

He takes a deep breath and I feel it is taking all his strength to keep himself under control right now. “The man who killed the prince’s wife and son was here. I saw him at the stables as the morning bell rang.”

My mouth falls open in shock. “What?”

“The black-hearted brigand was here, Queen Elinor,” he says in a voice laced with sadness, bitterness and anger, “and I must inform the prince and Barra. We have made a solid oath to never rest until we have removed those responsible for that heinous act from this earthly plane. Do you understand now why I have to leave?”

I stand there in stunned silence as I try to process what he is telling me. The man who killed the prince’s wife and child was here? In Valensia? But how can that be? Then something occurs to me – the riders that Greythorne sent… Oh, by the Goddess, is this who Aaran saw?

“Tell me,” I gasp, “how did you recognise this man? How do you know for sure it was he who killed the prince’s wife and child, as from what the prince has told me the attackers wore helmets that hid their faces.”

He looks to the ground and I feel his pain and anger move from his heart to the palm of my hand as he obviously recalls the events in the forest back in Ellerban.

“You are correct. The bastards all wore helmets that obscured their faces, but as this particular bastard raised his sword before plunging it into the princess, the sleeve of his tunic rode up his arm, partly revealing a mark. I saw that same mark this morning, on the same arm, on a man who had seemed familiar to me but for what reason I couldn’t quite recall, until I saw the mark.”

A sense of dread moves through me, cold and deathly like a dark wisp of mist that precedes an oncoming storm. I take one of the swords he is holding and draw Greythorne’s sigil of the scraggy, windbent tree in the sand of the arena. “Is this what the mark looked like?” I ask, a nervous quiver in my voice.

Aaran looks at me, his crystalline eyes wide with surprise. “Yes, exactly like that,” he replies, and I don’t miss the inherent question in his voice.

“By the gods,” I whisper as I twist the fabric of his tunic in my fingers, “it’s true.”

“Queen Elinor, what is it? What’s true?” he demands to know as he places his hands on my shoulders and bends his head down to look into my eyes. I’m struggling to find the words to tell him what I know when he asks again, this time more impatiently. “Queen Elinor, please tell me what you know. I beg you.”

I look into his eyes, two pieces of sky looking into my soul, and in a strained voice I respond to his plea. “The man you saw this morning works for Lord Greythorne. He’s a commander in Greythorne’s elite guard.” His expression twists with confusion but he doesn’t interrupt me. “I came by some information yesterday eve that leads me to believe Greythorne and his men were hired to kill the prince and his family.”

His hands fall away from my shoulders and he recoils in shock. “What?” he chokes out. “What information? Who? Who would pay Greythorne to do such a thing? What sort of monster kills an innocent woman and an infant?”

His voice cracks on the last word and I see from the pain in his eyes that he too is haunted by the death of Aurora and the baby prince. “I believe the same monster who left you and Barra for dead in The Dark Forest,” I say, in a barely audible whisper.

He steps toward me and then steps back again as if physically wrestling with the reality of what I just told him, and then I see the moment of realisation in his eyes as the truth of my words hits home.

“Prince Mikil?” he says on a shocked breath.

I nod as my heart aches at the sight of his confusion and subsequent pain as the obvious truth of my words sinks in.Even from a few feet away I can feel the maelstrom of emotions wreaking havoc within him. His hands ball into two fists of agony as he brings them up to his forehead as if trying to force back his thoughts. I reach out to touch him, to bring a small measure of comfort, but I quickly retract my hand. His nature is so wild and unusual that I’m not sure if my efforts would be appreciated, but then an agonised groan escapes his lips and I can hold back no longer.

I take him into my arms and his head falls onto my shoulder. “How did I not see it?” he asks, his voice stretched thin with agony. “How could I not see this treachery and save the lives of the princess and her son, and Prince Ronan from being destroyed?”

I’m shocked he feels it was his responsibility to foresee the attack and is blaming himself for the carnage that ensued. “Aaran, you can’t blame yourself,” I say in a soothing voice. “Nobody could have foretold what would happen, and from what the prince has told me it was you who alerted him to something being wrong. The backup troops didn’t get there in time to save Aurora and the infant, but your instincts are the reason the prince is alive.”

He jolts out of my arms at my mention of the prince. “The prince,” he says in a nervous voice, “does he know? Does he know it was his own brother who ordered him and his family killed?”

I shake my head. “No. I didn’t want to tell him until I had some concrete evidence…” my voice falters, “which I suppose I have now.”

The two of us stand there looking at each other as an invisible communication passes between us. When he speaks, I know I didn’t just imagine what happened as he verbalises my thoughts exactly. “To tell him such a thing so soon after his recent breakdown might not be the wisest course of action…”

I place my hand over his heart again. “No,” I agree, “it probably wouldn’t.”

He places his hand over mine. “Then let me and Barra go and at least partially avenge the prince by killing the blackhearted bastard who was here today. Then when you finally reveal to the prince the part his brother played in all of this, at least you will be able to provide him with the small consolation that the man who brandished the sword is dead. I’ll even keep the brigand’s head to prove it.”

I allow myself a small smile at the thought of him keeping Bates’ head as I realise how this gesture is very much Aaran.

“I’m afraid I can’t permit you to do that,” I inform him and internally wince as I watch lightning bolts of anger light up the crystalline blue of his eyes. He takes a deep breath, as if to steady himself and then, before I realise his intent, he swoops and presses his lips against mine in a hard kiss. His arms come around me in a tight embrace and he pulls me against the solid planes of his chest. His tongue plunders my mouth in a kiss of pure fury and it’s all I can do to stay on my feet.

At first I let him vent his fury and simply stand my ground in his arms as he bruises my lips with his own, but then I fight back and answer his fury with a passion so fierce I can barely contain it. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, clawing him even closer to me, and I devour him with my lips and tongue. I press myself against him and grind my hips against his manhood, letting him know his temper doesn’t intimidate me and I can handle whatever he’s got to throw at me. Slowly, his fury eases and his kiss becomes gentler, seeking, almost as if he is asking a question only I have the answer to. Then, just as quickly as he swooped to kiss me he pulls back and steps away, unable to look at me.

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