Heir of Death

Ch. 10: Blood Like Water

Elias fiddled with the ring on his pinkie, waiting. He was always waiting, lately. 

Malitech had flown into a towering rage the moment Elias had so much as hinted that he could no longer be Igraine's keeper. The prince hadn't paused to hear any of the reasons. Hadn't noticed even as Elias had hacked up another mouthful of blood, residue from being too long in contact with the death maiden's magic. 

The fresh-healed cut along Elias' cheek burned at the memory. The prince hadn't stopped his fit until an errantly thrown glass had shattered beside Elias, opening the skin over his cheekbone, narrowly missing his eye. 

Elias couldn't help but replay the moment over in his head. The burst of crystal. The sharp pain and warm blood. The way Malitech's eyes had widened and the prince himself had rushed over, pressing a handkerchief to Elias' bleeding face, asking if he was well. If he could still see or if the glass had gotten in his eye.

Bewildered and touched, Elias had let the prince guide him to a seat, staying quiet as Malitech had bellowed for a surgeon to be brought immediately. 

"I'm sorry," he'd blurted out as Malitech fussed over the cut, gently wiping the blood away. At the prince's quizzical look, Elias had said, "I can continue to care for Igraine. I just...I didn't know it meant so much to you. That I be the one..."

Malitech had smiled and nodded, relief shining sharp in his eyes. "You're the only one I trust with this, Elias. The only one I trust with her."

And Elias hadn't the heart to refuse him in that moment. Or...any moment after, in the last handful of weeks. With a sigh, he settled deeper into the low chair, the cushions stiff and uncomfortable beneath him. Igraine twittered and hummed to herself in the other room as she got ready, the sweet melody interspersed with vicious snaps and snarls at the slaves whenever one so much as glanced at her the wrong way. 

A fire crackled low in the grate before him. A small concession he had managed to get from the witch. If he was to remain in her company, he at least had the right to ward off the chill. She had pouted and whined, but still given in, much to his surprise. 

"Out!" Igraine suddenly shrieked, making Elias' ears pop as he lunged up from the chair. There was a crash and he closed his eyes in exasperation as three slaves, two dragging the third whose head was bloodied, darted from the room as fast as they could. A moment later, she barked, "Elias!"

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Elias crossed the room, skirting the splashes of blood that littered the floor leading to the witch's bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, peering cautiously through the shadowy room. 

No matter how he pleaded with the witch to remain properly clothed when he was around, it was never a sure-fire thing that she would have, well...any clothes on. 

A cold hand materialized around his wrist, jerking him all the way into the gloom. His eyes adjusted rapidly, getting more used to the dark with every passing day. A breath of relief left him as he found Igraine fully clothed in a magnificent gown of dark emerald, her black hair hanging loose down her back.

Her eyes glimmered with barely contained rage as she pulled him through the disaster of a bedchamber into the dressing room. Once there, she let him go and collapsed into the delicate chair sitting before the vanity. Elias kept his face carefully blank, knowing she was waiting for a reaction. Her mood had been fey and recalcitrant ever since the letter had come, requesting her presence at the prince's country estate. 

She had thrown the letter into the fire the night it had been received, hissing at the sparks that had flown into the air. She had been so outraged by the prince's request, Elias was genuinely surprised they found themselves in rooms at the prince's country estate today.