Prince of Blood and Shadow

The Ravenmoon Estate was paradise. It sat in the woods between Stonefog and the Fairylight Garden. It was bustling with life and warmth. Emerald grass blanketed the woodland floor beneath the trees, casting shadows of many colors as the sun shone through the purple, red, blue, and jade leaves. Something about the magic here kept the winter chills from passing through the barrier. Little lights gathered on either side of their party as they passed, as if curious of the travelers. They twinkled like little stars and slid away when Inias reached to touch them.

Inias would have enjoyed the trip more if it weren’t for the ropes fastened on his wrists. Some hex or spell would suck his strength any time he attempted to pull himself free. The ropes would glow, and he’d fall straight to his knees. They gave him the mercy of waiting until he could walk on his first escape attempt. He’d tried to rip through them with his claws, only to have them retract and his legs crumble beneath him. For that, they took away his horse privileges and forced him to walk. The rope encircling his wrists led to Styx beside him, encasing his neck as they walked side by side.

Keira got a good spot, horseback next to her dad in the front. He could only pick up a few words. Her father was angry she’d run away with him, but he didn’t need to eavesdrop to understand that. What he wanted to know was her father’s plan for him. All Lord Varen had told him was ‘they’d decide it at the manor.’ He had entertained the idea of leaving Inias behind, but everything changed when Keira told him about Vayne and the kidnapping. Varen may have spared him, but the menacing cloaked figures on all sides of him and the bound ropes left no room for trust.

Sylvis’ words, “You’re on the list too, old man,” echoed in his mind. Why did his uncle want Lord Varen dead, or Keira for that matter? Inias had led his kin into a slaughter, lost his father in the fight, and had now killed Vayne. Unless he could discover why Vayne had taken Keira, there was no way to defend his case to the court. There was something he didn’t want them knowing. If only he’d had more time to bleed it out of him.

Inias knew two individuals who would pursue him. Sylvis, who had already shown himself, and the other would be Vayne’s father, Lord Caelan Rouan. The person responsible for enforcing his uncle’s demands. Ivaran possessed both a right and left hand at his sides; one for counsel and the other for executing his unsavory tasks. The Rouan clan had been on friendly terms with the covetous merchant clans of Eventide Borough. They cautioned the fae to stay away from the Borough since it was near the human realm and there were rumors of fae and other creatures being abducted. They disappeared without a trace. Inias speculated that the shadow fae were not fond of humans, but were eager to harness the power of magical creatures from their realm.

Approaching a shorter yet older statue, the air filled with the aroma of grapes. Over time, the stone deteriorated, and no offerings remained at its base. Seated on a tiny chair, a man with curly hair and goats’ horns had two women on his lap. He held a long staff with a pinecone tip in his right hand, and in his left hand, he gripped a large goblet that carried the lingering scent of wine from ages past. Inias felt mocked by the statue’s smirk.

“A God?” Inias asked, turning to the figure walking beside him, hidden by a hood with two daggers still drawn. “Forest Guardian,” A woman’s voice answered from beneath the hood, “They’re god-like.” He’d never seen this statue before, but he’d read about forest guardians in his studies. According to legends, gods moved to the Ethereal Vale, now their sacred dwelling, when the humans had abandoned them. Some seemed to retire from godhood and became lesser spirits or guardians. “Bacchus…” He read the name carved into the stone at the bottom. There were stories of Bacchus and his savage maenads, rumored to be more perilous than redcaps, spread widely.

Finally, he glimpsed the red walls of the manor amidst the trees. The warm air had been welcoming, but after an hour of walking, he’d started to sweat beneath the wool cloak. The manor rose three stories above him, with three large windows on every floor. Throughout their friendship, Keira never once invited him to this place. He’d been to their home in Stonefog several times, but it wasn’t nearly as lovely as this place. The smooth walls seemed to be cut from rubies, sparkling as the sun shone on them. He would have liked to go inside to change, but the group had moved to the courtyard rather than the welcoming manor.

The sound of chirping birds reached him as they passed through the grand entrance into the luxurious courtyard. Inias whistled when he saw the steaming pool of water on the marble patio deck. The surrounding guards turned and left the group as they entered. Each one took a spot to stand - two by the door, two by the main entrance, and one in each corner.

As he admired the radiant courtyard, he felt the ropes come free and fall to the floor. The rope fell from Styx’s neck as well, and he quickly took advantage of his freedom. The fox ran across the yard, sniffing every flower, the little lights that seemed to dance around, but when he came to the gate, he yelped and ran back. “A barrier,” Varen said in a deep velvety tone, “Can’t have you three running off again.” It was better than a dungeon, though Inias couldn’t imagine this paradise housing a dungeon.

Servants dressed in elegant silver silk robes came out onto the patio, walking across the crystal blue floor as they set up some chairs and a table for them. They returned a few minutes later with plates full of food and chalices of wine. They set up a small stool for Styx, along with ground meat and water. He rushed between Inias’ legs, nearly causing him to fall. Styx slid the last few feet to the table, knocking it against one chair.

Inias removed his cloak and left it on a tree branch before heading to the patio. The release of weight and heat caused him to sigh. Styx ate as they all sat down, and the young man smiled at the perfectly cooked elk. “Escape?! I could get used to this!” Inias yanked the fork from beside the plate and dug in. Since breakfast the day before, he hadn’t eaten, and only then did he realize how hungry he was. Varen picked at his meal as the trio devoured their plates.

The Ravenmoon’s were famous for their luxuries, but he never imagined all this. They preferred to remain secluded outside of the cities, and he couldn’t blame them. With so many scents and sounds from every direction, those places were anxiety inducing. Here everything smelled so natural, the fresh grass, warm summer breeze, and the air was so rich with magic he could almost feel it brushing against him.

“Can we talk about Vestin now?” Keira said, shoving her empty plate away. Varen looked to Inias with a glare, then sighed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Yes, let’s talk about my son, Inias.” Inias remembered the arrow in Vestin’s chest, the way he continued to fight on, wounded. Inias audibly gulped his wine and fidgeted with his hair. “I’m sorry...” It all came rushing back to him, leaving him speechless.

The grief, the flashes, they all came to him at once. He snapped his eyes shut until he felt Keira’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. “He didn’t force Vestin to follow him,” Keira reminded her father. “I suppose not,” Varen answered, followed by a long sigh, “But you still have much to answer for and I’m not convinced I shouldn’t hand you to your uncle as a bargaining chip.” The king wanted him dead as well, the entire Ravenmoon clan. Inias couldn’t understand why, what had got into Ivaran’s head. Maybe the death of his brother made him snap. It was possible he could negotiate his life with Inias to bargain with. “Do you believe my son is alive, Prince?”

The redcaps would’ve finished him by now if they’d taken him alive. Free meat didn’t live long in their lairs. Inias hesitated, unwilling to break the hope in Keira’s eyes. He could be alive, though unlikely. “I…don’t know,” He answered after a long gulp from his drink. “I didn’t see him die, and the sentries never found his body. If his wounds were tended to in time, he could have survived in the state he was in.” He thought over the confrontation with Vayne and why he wanted to get rid of Keira. “That shadow killed Vayne to keep him quiet. Something is going on with the Rouans.”

Varen looked at Styx, who was licking his lips beside Inias. “That shadow is a watcher, a familiar,” He explained as a woman brought him a pipe carved from an amethyst stone. There was a sweet smell coming from the powder within. “Like Styx?” Keira asked, reaching over Inias to pet the fox. “They have no independent will. Only summoned to do the caster’s bidding. They make excellent spies and assassins, but the caster must give up a piece of their soul to give them life. Not a fair trade, I think.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t think tracking it down is an option. Unless it comes for us,” Inias gave his plate to the man who came to clean the table. As each servant came and went, they would walk backwards halfway, bow, then turn to leave. “You’re correct, young prince. All we need is bait.” As Varen spoke, the sound of rattling chains dragging across a marble floor interrupted the peaceful garden song. As the doors opened, two cloaked guards revealed Rurik bound in iron chains and dragging him. Sylvis looked to the prisoner dressed in whatever rags they could spare and lit his pipe. “That’s what he’s for.”