Shadows Of Desire
Fate's Unyielding grip

Rowan leaned against the wall to catch his breath. He and Greagor had been running since escaping the dungeons. Greagor looked over at the boy and frowned. They had reached the chamber just beneath the guard house but Rowan was unable to continue without first stopping to rest. Greagor waited beside the ladder that would lead them up and to freedom. He wanted Rowan to hurry but he decided against rushing him. Pushing him too hard and having Rowan get sick wouldn’t do them any good and besides, Greagor wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to do once they reached the guard house anyway. His first assumption that his men, men he’d trained himself, would stay loyal to him was a grave error on his part. He was just glad that he hadn’t had to kill the two guards in the dungeon. They were still his men after-all.

When he and Rowan had reached the top of the stairs, Greagor had debated with himself whether to go through with the execution as ordered by the Queen, or do what he knew in his heart was right. The decision weighed heavily on him and for a moment, he almost decided against helping the boy but, it was Rowan’s own assurances that convinced him otherwise. Greagor felt the guilt of his choices gnawing at his insides. He’d agreed to help Rowan escape but his reasons weren’t entirely unselfish ones.

As they stood there, looking down the corridor that would lead to Rowan’s death, Rowan made one last plea for mercy. Greagor had tried to harden his heart to the boy’s pleading but he couldn’t help but feel some remorse for Rowan’s predicament. It was Greagor who had found him in the Shee village. It was Greagor who had ordered him to be taken back to the castle, and it was Greagor who had delivered him to the Queen. What was the alternative though? The Queen had ordered him to question every member of that village and then round them all up and bring them back to the castle. Rowan would have been brought back regardless. Even if he had allowed Rowan to escape into the forest, he was almost certain that one of the soldiers would have recognized him and told the Queen.

So many what if’s and maybe’s and yet Greagor couldn’t get past the feeling that all of his decisions were made out of fear. Fear of what the Queen would do to him or his family if she discovered his deception. When Rowan had made his final plea for help, all of Greagor’s shame and guilt over what he had done to the boy came to the surface like bile rising up from his stomach. The sour taste of betrayal sickened him and he suddenly felt like retching. He had to make it right. Consequences or not, he had to make it right. If not, he’d never be able to live with himself or carry on as the Captain of the royal guard for, Rowan was the Prince and the rightful heir to the throne and Greagor had sworn an oath to protect the crown at all costs. As far as he was concerned, that meant Rowan, not Caroline.

He had looked down at Rowan. The boy had tears in his eyes and he shook as he spoke but still, even in the face of his own death, he showed a spirit that Greagor had to admire. He had escaped the Palace a mere child but that child had grown into a man, brave and selfless, and with fierce determination. Determination to survive.

At first, Greagor thought that Rowan was pleading for his own life but then, Greagor watched as Rowan’s hands lowered to his stomach where he cupped his belly and he pleaded for the life growing inside of him. It was in that moment that he knew what he had to do. He couldn’t walk Rowan out to the pyre, no matter what the Queen had ordered. He could barely bring himself to accept one innocent life being taken, but two? He just couldn’t do it. Not again. Greagor had to do something. The Queen’s reign of terror had to stop.

“If you can help me get past the main gate.” Rowan told him. His tears glistened in his eyes like jewels. His large, round, eyes like two shimmering emerald pools. Greagor looked into his eyes and saw something that he had never seen in any vampire before. There was a spark, just a glimmer, but enough that Greagor could see the power that lay dormant in the boy. Fairy magic of the oldest kind. It was often whispered that the omega Prince was different. He could do things that other vampire’s could not. He could control the shadows and move through them. Plants and flowers obeyed him. With one touch he could bring a dead blossom to life, or snuff that life out.

Greagor could see now that those rumors were not rumors but untold truths. Knowing this gave him hope. Maybe, given his unique heritage, Rowan could overthrow the Queen. He may be the only one who could. “I’ll be able to find my husband, Prince Thaden of Rosegate.” Rowan continued. “He’s probably already on his way here, to find me. I just need to reach him.”

“And what then?” Greagor asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at the young Prince, searching his eyes for any sign of deception and not finding any. “Will you run away into the night once more, abandoning your people?”

Rowan’s expression became stern, his brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “No.” He said without hesitation. His voice suddenly taking on a tone of authority. “I’ll fight. I’ll save them. Caroline’s time as Queen is over.”

Greagor pursed his lips, then nodded. “I’ll help you.”

***

“My Queen.” The guard bowed before Queen Caroline, his deep baritone voice shook with trepidation. Being one of the newest recruits to his unit, he was tasked with the unfortunate responsibility of delivering extremely distressing news to the Queen. Already annoyed with the execution not going to plan, she most certainly was not going to take the news well. No one wanted to be the one to approach her, no one wanted to be the cause of her anger or the target of her wrath.

“What is it?” She snapped, raising an eyebrow as she dared him to tell her anything other than her prisoner has been found and is being brought out as they spoke. “You have good news, I hope.”

The guard closed his eyes and hung his head low. He let out an audible sigh as he braced himself, not knowing what the Queen’s reaction will be but expecting the worst. “With deepest regret.” He began. “I must inform her Majesty of a terrible crime. It seems that Lord Killian, after escaping his tower rooms and killing the guard on duty has...” He hesitated a moment, lifting his head enough to look up to the Queen with pleading eyes.

“Yes?” The Queen said, growing more impatient by the moment. Of course, she knew what he was going to tell her. Emilia was dead and Killian had killed her. The fate of Lord Killian however, she was not aware of but, whatever she was told, she had to appear as though she were in shock and overcome with grief over the loss of her daughter.

The guard swallowed, nervously. “Killian has...” His hands shook. He could already feel a noose snaking it’s way around his neck, growing tighter the more the Queen’s eyes bore into him. The figurative noose was choking him and he actually coughed. He didn’t want to speak the next words but what choice did he have? “Lord Killian has...”

“Spit it out!” Caroline yelled. Heads of onlookers turned in the her direction as the crowd wondered what was going on. The guard at her feet felt as if he might faint at any moment. He felt embarrassed, and ashamed. He was a guard. Trained to fight and defend. He faced death every time he took up his sword but, kneeling before the Queen now, was the most frightened he had ever been in his life.

“The Princess Emilia.” He sputtered. The Queen leaned closer at the mention of her daughter and the guard tensed. The woman’s suffocating presence made it hard to speak but he managed to relay the message he’d been sent to give her. “She’s dead.” He cringed as he said the words. The Queen’s eyes went wide and her hands twisted and curled into two tight fists. He could feel the anger rolling off her, could smell it almost. Oh how he wanted to run then. Just jump to his feet and run. Anywhere, just to escape his demon Queen and the murderous glare that she was giving him.

“How?” The word came out as a low, dangerous growl. Her top lip curled back, revealing her fangs. Her eyes turned black as they narrowed, pinning the guard down with her gaze. She was on her feet in a second, and from her position she towered over the guard as she demanded answers from him. “How did this happen?” She screamed at him.

The guard shook his head. “My Queen, I do not know how Lord Killian escaped but I was told that he entered the Princesses chambers, attacked her maids, and locked himself in her bed chamber. By the time the royal guard had broken through the doors, Killian had already dispatched her. He had..apparently...stabbed her through the chest with a silver bladed dagger.”

Caroline, flustered, began to wring her hands and fidget as though not sure what to do. She appeared to take in the information with a sense of uncertainty as though she were having difficulty believing what she had just been told all the while, murmuring to herself words to low for others to hear. She turned back to the guard, her crazed and darkened eyes bore into him. “Where is Lord Killian now?” She demanded. “Where is my daughter’s killer?”

“Dead.” The guard responded. “By his own hand. Before the guard could arrest him, he drove the same dagger through his own heart.”

“Dead?” She repeated the word as she paced back and forth on the landing before her chair. “And what of the prisoner?”

“My Lady?” The guard looked at her, confused.

"The prisoner you fool! The one who was meant to be executed tonight. Where is he? And where is Greagor? Is everyone in this palace so incompetent?” Before the guard should answer her, Caroline raked her claws across his face. Three deep gashes appeared, ripping through his left eye, across his nose, and through the corner of his mouth. Blood gushed from the wound and the guard howled in pain as he covered his face with his hands and fell backwards, into the stands. Those seated there moved out of the way as he came crashing down to where they had been sitting.

Momentarily dazed, the guard lay on his side, his legs hung limply over the wooden bench, his hands still covering his wounded face. No one moved to help him. They too feared the Queen’s wrath. The Queen herself, sat back down in her seat and watched as the guard groaned and struggled to right himself on the bench. With one hand still covering his eye, he used the other to push himself up to a sitting position. His face and hands were covered in blood but, the wounds themselves had stopped bleeding, already beginning to heal themselves.

“Get up!” The Queen commanded. “Honestly! You’re a disgrace. You’re lucky I don’t have you beheaded for your incompetence.”

The guard had managed to drag himself to his feet, giving the Queen a half bow as he still had one hand over his eye and was unsteady on his feet. He was seething with anger now that replaced the fear he’d once had when facing the Queen. He glared back at her as she stared at him showing no remorse for her actions. Instead, he saw a smug smile form on her lips. “Remove your hand.” She ordered him. He did as instructed, saying nothing, only lowering his hand to reveal the bloodied and scarred flesh across his face and, the eye that was now clouded, blind, having been torn in half and then sealed back together with an obvious slit across the pupil.

Caroline looked him over, admiring her handy work and, for a moment, the guard thought he saw a hint of amusement in her cruel eyes. “What is your name?” She asked him.

“Evander.” He answered coldly.

“Well, Evander.” The Queen smirked at the guards obvious disdain for her. “You shall serve as a reminder to all of what happens to those who displease their Queen. Now, tell me. Where is Greagor and my prisoner?”

“We do not know.” Evander told her. His expression remained emotionless. No longer fearing that she would kill him, Evander instead regarded her with contempt. He hated the woman. Now, more so than before. This was not the ruler he wished to serve but he had no choice. She was Queen and he was bound by duty to obey her. He contained his anger as he stood before her but, if ever he’d had any respect for the woman at all, it was gone now. “Two guards were discovered in the hall at the top of the stairs leading to the dungeon. Neither the Captain nor the prisoner have been found yet and the squire you sent is also missing.”

Caroline grit her teeth, her long claws raking across the arm of her chair. Her wicked smirk gone now, replaced with rage. Evander internally grinned. He wouldn’t say it aloud but he actually hoped that the prisoner, whoever he was, managed to get away. Not because he felt the man was innocent or because he felt the Queen was wrong but, because he wanted to see her squirm. Whoever this prisoner was, whatever he had done, the Queen feared him. Evander could see it in her eyes. She wanted him dead because she feared what he would do to her. He must have been someone of great importance. A true enemy to the crown. Good. Evander thought. Perhaps the Queen will get what’s coming to her after all.

“Find them.” The Queen growled. “I want that prisoner caught and brought to me.”

“Perhaps, my Queen...” Evander felt bile rise up his throat even calling her that. “It would be more pertinent to attend to the Princess first. The people will want to know what happened and...”

Caroline held up a hand. “There is nothing I can do for her now. Her killer is dead. There is no one else to blame. The priest will attend her. My more pressing issue is to recapture my captive. He will burn before the night is done. He and any who aide him. I want them all found and brought before me for judgement. Get the word out to all. Man every point of entry, search the entire Kingdom if you have to. I will not allow treason among my men to go unpunished. Not even the Captain.”

Evander bowed as he backed away. “As you wish, your Majesty.” His words dripped with venom as he turned his back on the Queen and left to carry out her orders. He would find the prisoner and those who helped him but, he had no intention of delivering them to the Queen. If his actions meant treason then so be it. He’d rather burn with those who defied Caroline then follow a false Queen.

***

After Greagor had agreed to help Rowan escape, he informed the two guards that there was a change in plan. Greagor was certain that his men would aide them. He was their Captain after all, and they had each pledged their loyalty to the crown. As far as Greagor was concerned that meant Rowan. Rowan was the rightful heir, omega or not, he had more claim to the throne than Caroline did. Greagor’s men, unfortunately, did not feel the same. They refused to help, and even attempted to detain them. Their own Captain! They thought they could detain their Captain and betray him by dragging him before that bitch on the throne.

Greagor was having none of that. He’d trained these men. He knew their strengths and their weaknesses. They soon found out that they were no match for their Captain, a man hundreds of years their elder, and more powerful in every way. Greagor attempted to reason with them, get them to see things from his perspective but, when that failed, he was left with limited options. Rather than fight, and possibly kill the two men, Greagor elected to instead knock them both unconscious.

With a quick snap of the neck, both men went down. Such an injury would have killed a human but these men were not human. They were vampires. The injuries to their necks would heal but the process would be slow, giving Greagor and Rowan the time they needed to escape. Rowan looked to Greagor, confusion written across his young face. “They’re good men.” Greagor explained. “They don’t deserve to die.”

“But, they serve Caroline.” Rowan pointed out.

“They serve Basmorte.” Greagor corrected. “And when you reclaim the throne, they will serve you.”

“You really think so?” Rowan asked, a bit skeptical.

Greagor nodded. “I know so. I trained them.”

That was all Rowan needed to hear. He trusted Greagor. He’d always trusted the man. Even when Desmond was still alive. Greagor had always been kind to Rowan. He’d turned a blind eye when Rowan had been in a part of the castle that he wasn’t permitted to be in or, when he was playing instead of doing his studies. He’d even found Rowan outside the Palace walls once and promptly returned him to the Palace. Rowan had thought for sure that Greagor would have reported him to his father but he did not.

Rowan wasn’t sure if it was sympathy or pity, but Greagor had always treated Rowan with gentle kindness. Rowan considered him a true friend. Even when Rowan had thought that Greagor had betrayed him. He still thought of the man as a friend. Maybe he’d just lost his way for a time but in the end, Greagor had come through for him, as he always had.

Leaving the two guards in the corridor at the top of the stairs, Greagor and Rowan had escaped down the corridor, towards the guard house. Rowan didn’t know where they were going. He had never known these tunnels even existed but, he trusted that Greagor knew the way out. It seemed as though they had been running for hours. Greagor didn’t seem the least bit tired. It seemed that the man could have gone on for hours with no need to stop and rest but Rowan was exhausted. His legs hurt, his back ached, and his arms felt like they were made of jelly. One more step and he was certain that he’d pass out from the effort.

Besides his physical exhaustion, Rowan realized that he was hungry. No, starving. He hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Pickaway village and hadn’t fed since passing out in the forest. The Shee side of him didn’t need blood to survive but the vampire side did and he was starting to feel the effects of going too long without it. Still, he tried to stay strong. He could go on if he just pushed himself a little harder. He could feed once he was safely away from the Palace. Once he’d found Thaden. His desire to be reunited with husband was stronger than anything and he was determined to be in his arms once more, feeling his arms protectively wrapped around him.

“I just need a moment.” Rowan struggled to catch his breath as he spoke. They had reached the chamber beneath the guard house. They were almost there. A moment to rest wouldn’t matter at this point. As soon as he ascended the ladder to the guard house, Rowan would be mere feet from the main gate. His freedom was just within reach.

Leaning against the wall, Rowan took in a deep breath, calming his shaking limbs and rubbing at his sore back. He was barely pregnant, could he already be feeling the effects of it or, was it too soon? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the exhaustion he felt wasn’t his imagination. Greagor looked at him, concerned.

“I’m alright.” Rowan told him. “I just need to rest a moment then we can go on.”

“When is the last time you fed?” Greagor asked him.

Rowan sighed. “Too long.” He answered. “And it was only rabbit.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“That’s not enough to sustain you.” Greagor narrowed his eyes at the young Prince and frowned. “I would have thought by now you would have learned that you need blood to survive. Especially in your current condition.”

Rowan looked down at his feet. He ran a hand through his hair and kicked at a few stray stones on the floor. “I do know that I need blood to survive.” He told the man. “But, knowing that doesn’t make it any less disgusting.”

“You can’t fight your nature.” Greagor told him. “No matter how much you try to deceive yourself, you’re still half vampire.”

Rowan nodded, knowing that Greagor was right. It was just a half of himself that he’d rather not acknowledge. He couldn’t change what he was, couldn’t change being a vampire anymore than he could change being an omega. It had never set well with him. Being a vampire, in his mind, meant that he was evil. At least now he knew the truth about who and what his mother was. It helped to know that there was at least a part of him that wasn’t a monster.

“We should get moving again.” Rowan said, changing the subject.

“Are you sure that you’re feeling up to it?” Greagor asked him. “If you need more rest...”

“I’m fine.” Rowan said, pushing himself away from the wall. “And it won’t be long before Caroline sends someone after us.” No sooner had he spoke the words when Rowan stopped, his acute hearing picking up the sounds of movement further down the corridor. Greagor heard it too. He was immediately on his feet, moving Rowan behind him as he held his sword at the ready. They listened to the scuttling of foot steps as they came closer to the chambers entrance.

Rowan held his breath as he waited. His hand rested against his still flat belly, his muscles tense, his guard up. He didn’t want to fight but he would if it came down to it. He would do anything to protect his unborn child. Even kill if he had to. The footfalls began to slow as the owner drew closer to the chamber. Rowan could tell now that it was only one person which caused him to exhale in relief. One man or woman would be nothing for them to deal with.

Greagor stepped into full view of the archway now and the figure approaching them stopped when he saw him and, raised his hands to show he was unarmed. Greagor lowered and re-sheathed his sword when he saw the person standing before him. It was just a young squire, no more than eighteen or nineteen. He could have looked young, of course, and been much older but given his status it was obvious he was just a boy. A Knight, or even a guard, would have been much older. At least a century older. This squire had a long way to go before he reached Knighthood.

The squire bowed at the waist upon seeing Greagor. “Captain.” He said, respectfully.

Greagor eyed him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?” Greagor demanded, his voice sounding gruff and cold.

“The Queen sent me.” The boy stammered. Greagor’s hand moved once more to the hilt of his sword. The boy must have seen this movement because his eyes went wide and he immediately put his hands up again, as if in surrender. “Please, I don’t mean you any harm.” The boy explained. “I was just following orders and, when I saw the two guards laid out in the corridor, I thought you might be in trouble.”

Greagor chuckled at this. He removed his hand from the sword, instead, laying it gently on the boys forearm. “I’m the Captain, child. It was I who laid those men out. I assure you, I’m fine.”

The boy sighed in relief and nodded. “And the prisoner?” The squire asked.

It was then that Rowan stepped out from behind Greagor and looked to the youth. His expression stern, his eyes focused on the squire as he raised a brow. “I am no prisoner.” He said, a hint of anger in his words. “I am a Prince of Basmorte and your Queen is an imposter.”

It took only a moment for what Rowan had said to register in the boy’s mind. He studied Rowan’s face in the flickering fire light of the torches mounted on the wall. A look of shock crossed the young man’s face to be quickly replaced with alarm. At once the young squire gasped then went down on one knee, bowing his head. His body trembled with fear as he spoke. “F...forgive me, your Highness.” His voice was soft but strained. “I...I thought...I mean...I was told you were dead.”

“That was my doing.” Rowan explained. “I had to find a way to escape the Palace. To escape my father but, I’m back now. I’ve seen the horrors of the false Queen and could no longer stand by and watch my people suffer at her hands.” Rowan held out a hand to the squire and the boy looked up slowly. He took the offered hand and Rowan helped him to his feet.

“So, squire.” Greagor addressed the boy. The tone of his voice caused the boy to shiver under the weight of the Captain’s authority. “Now that you know your Prince lives, will remain loyal to the Queen or will you swear fealty to your Prince, the true ruler of Basmorte?”

Without giving it a second thought, the squire brought Rowan’s hand to his lips and gently kissed his fingers. “There is no question.” He said. “I am a servant to the realm. I was never loyal to the Queen and I swear no allegiance to her now. I swear my loyalty to Prince Rowan. Always.”

“What is your name?” Rowan asked him.

“Aidan, your Highness.” The squire bowed to him. “And, I am your humble servant.”

Rowan smiled. “Then come Aidan. We must find my husband and hope that he can convince the Elven army to fight with us. It is time that we knock this false Queen off her throne.”

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