FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses

Warlock Grove, Nightway

ALAZAR

Riaura hadn’t come to Dread Brew Wake in over a fortnight. Since that fateful talk.

Which went so swimmingly. He recalled dryly. Finding himself leaving the castle to haunt the grove, hoping she was okay.

As he emerged from the thick trunks, he saw her sitting by the water.

Her back to a tree, gold hair falling over her face. Knees drawn to her chin. Sobbing so hard her shoulders jerked. Hearing leaves crunch, she peered one glistening green eye over her forearm at him. Taking a deep shaking breath, she tucked her face.

Crying. Always crying. He looked Heavenward for patience. Kneeling before her, he waited until she slowly lifted huge green eyes. Pale blue muslin dress filthy from sitting in the dirt. She looks so frail.

He handed her the handkerchief he’d begun carrying for her. And gruffly asked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Marod is sick again. Something is wrong with her.”

“Ah.” He said. Sighing as he crouched next to her.

It’s best I say no more. As only venom will come spouting out.

“What happens when she’s gone Alazar? I can’t possibly be queen! I’m no good at embroidering or singing or any ladylike endeavors. Yet I’m to represent the entirety of Nightway?”

She’s starting to understand.

“You’re kind, wise, and have the unique ability to foresee and plan accordingly. Few can view that kind of picture.” He was sincere. “You’ll be whatever kind of queen you wish. You’re more than equipped to do so.” He assured.

There are more important things then embroidering. Alazareth had watched many queens and kings, been friends with some too, over the centuries.

“Marod has Lord Danbury coming to visit today. From the neighboring estate. He owns much of MidGale City and the border of Nightway and Igonox. She wants me to meet him.” Riaura stared up at him imploringly. Green eyes awash with emotion. “She’s never asked me to meet a man before.”

Sighing he rose and offered her a hand up.

She gave him a half smile, but her eyes were still hollow.

“What are you wanting me to say, Riaura?”

She gnawed her lip and her eyes welled with new tears.

His shoulders slumped. Oh no. What now? A half grimace tugged his face.

She bolted. Clutching her dress as she ran back to the castle.

What did I say? His hands floated helplessly. What?

She’s becoming more a woman every day! Making less and less sense!

Tossing his hands his boots crunched over crisp grass as he headed back to the sanctuary of his trees. It’s safer there.

That afternoon, Alazareth watched the arrival of Charles Danbury.

The fine Lord had many attendants who carefully unloaded him from his carriage. In a great show of idiotic chaos, they flitted like worried hens. Maneuvering him into a great chair with gears and wheels so they could steer him into Nightway.

A cripple? Alazar snorted. Finding his concerns assuaged, he started to turn from the overlook to wander back downhill and into the closure of the trees.

But the movement of Danbury below caught his attention. The man lifted his hand in a gesture for his attendants to stop. He twisted in his chair to see over his shoulder. Eying the overlook.

He senses me? Alazar stepped further into the shadows. Watching until the man turned back and waved for servants to move him forward.

That’s impossible. Unless he’s either one of us or Cimmerii.

He’s not one of us.

Riaura was led out into the bailey to meet him. Alazareth watched as one of Marod’s advisors led a reluctant Riaura forward to place her hand in Danbury’s, so the man could kiss it, staring at Riaura.

Of course, he is. Alazar realized the obvious. He tuned into Danbury’s thoughts. One glance was foul enough to make Alazar’s gut churn.

Alazareth thought better of heading back into the Warwood. Spending much of the night perched on the overlook. Dark cloak billowing behind him beneath the night sky.

In the late hours, he headed to wait by the pond. She’ll want to tell me of him. Looking over the meadow he saw torches in the castle lighting for the night and horses being unhitched from Danbury’s carriage so they could be pulled around to the stables.

He’s staying the night?

As the morning sun crested green hilltops, Alazareth realized she wasn’t coming. Is she okay?

Even Marod isn’t cruel enough to let him hurt her. But the niggling voice inside him argued.

What if Marod tried to force her into Danbury’s hands? It may not be beyond her. Alazar swallowed hard. Hands working in white-knuckled fists as he stared across the meadow. Jaw ticking and sweat marking his brow.