Shadows Of Desire

Rowan lay, sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the black, silk canopy above him. He couldn’t believe that his life had come to this. It was all a waiting game now. Waiting for his father to have him hauled off to the dungeons in silver shackles. Maybe he would be merciful and allow him a swift death. It would be better than a lifetime of imprisonment. Of course, if Lady Caroline had her way, Rowan would be slowly tortured until she’d finally had enough of his screams and finally ended his life.

She was probably on her way to his father now, no doubt about to beg the King to have Rowan slaughtered. Perhaps she would request his head on a silver platter as her wedding gift. Rowan had no idea what he was going to do but lying around waiting for death didn’t seem like an option he much cared for.

“Oh for the love of Sheul.” Folen stood beside Rowan’s bed and glared down at him, hands on her hips. “Ya can’t wallow in yer bed all night long feeling sorry fer yerself.”

“I didn’t think you prayed to Sheul.” Rowan said, somberly.

“Aye, he’s yer God, not mine. But thought you’d relate better.”

“I haven’t prayed to him since mother died.” Rowan admitted. “Don’t see any use in it. When has he ever been there for me?”

“Maybe yer praying to the wrong God then.” Folen picked up the discarded clothing on the floor and moved them to the basket in the corner. “Now, get up out of that bed and get dressed in the clothes I laid out for ya.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Why.”

“Because it wouldn’t be fit for ya to go to yer dinner date naked.”

Rowan sat up, narrowing his eyes. “What dinner date?”

“Lord Killian has asked yer father for permission to take you to dinner and he’s agreed. He’ll be here in an hour to escort you.”

“No.” Rowan folded his arms over his chest and glared at the woman. “Absolutely not. And why should Lord Killian want to escort me to dinner? He’s marrying Emilia isn’t he?”

“Not from what I hear.” Folen told him. “Last I heard he had his sights set on you.”

Rowan groaned. “He may have his sights set on me but his mind is in the gutter and I’ll not fall victim to his lust.”

“And that’s precisely while I’ll be there to chaperone.”

Rowan pulled the covers over his head and sunk down into the mattress. “Why do I have to do this?′

“Because, Lad, your father has ordered it. Now, get dressed and I’ll do yer hair. Lord Killian may be a rake but he’s a noble one n’ I’ll not have you showing up to dinner lookin’ like a raggabrash.”

***

Dinner with Lord Killian wasn’t what Rowan had expected. Maybe it was because of the servants scrambling around to serve them or the two guards that stood by the doors to the small, private, dining room, or, maybe it was Folen’s presence in the room, but Lord Killian remained, for the most part, on his best behavior.

Folen stood behind Rowan throughout the entire meal, directing the other servants as they brought food and drinks to the table. Rowan felt better just knowing she was there.

“So, Lord Killian, I was surprised to get your invitation for dinner tonight.” Rowan said as he sipped his wine.

“Oh?” Lord Killian raised an eyebrow. “Why so?”

“I just thought perhaps after the other night, you had reconsidered your proposal.”

“Not at all, my dear Prince. I may have my brief dalliances but that won’t prevent me from claiming what’s mine. I’m a man of power and I know what’s at stake. I’d never give up real power for a meaningless fuck.”

“So, our union is meant to be a political alliance, and nothing more?”

“Oh, it will be much more than that, I can assure you.” Lord Killian picked up his wine glass and grinned a wide, devilish, grin as he drank.

Rowan felt a chill go up his spine as he watched his betrothed. The look in his eyes told Rowan exactly what his marriage to this man would become.

“What if I refuse your proposal?” Rowan asked, a slight smirk on his face.

“Refuse all you want.” Lord Killian narrowed his eyes, the smile gone from his face. “It won’t do you any good. I always get what I want.”

“Hm.” Rowan propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “What you want is my father’s throne.” Rowan stated calmly.

The smile returned to Killian’s face as he watched Rowan curiously. “You’re a perceptive one, aren’t you?”

Rowan shrugged. “I’m not the idiot that my father thinks I am. And I don’t think I like being used for your political gain. Why not wed Emilia. She would jump at the opportunity I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure she would. She’s not a royal though.”

“She will be, once my father weds Lady Caroline.”

“True, but you are King Desmond’s blood and therefore his rightful heir. Or would be, had you not been born an omega. Unless he produces a son to inherit his throne, a non omega son, whoever you wed will become Prince consort and therefore rule once your father has passed or chooses to retire his crown.”

“Meaning you.” Rowan folded his hands on the table in front of him. “And what happens if Lady Caroline does give him a son?”

Lord Killian took another sip of his wine as he eyed Rowan carefully. “We’ll worry about that when and if it happens.”

“I suppose you’ll want children.”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

Rowan sighed, looking away. “Maybe. Someday. But not right away.”

Lord Killian sat his glass down then leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “I expect to get you pregnant on your next heat which, according to your father, should be happening soon.”

Rowan cringed. He was not looking forward to spending his next heat with this man.

Lord Killian sighed. “Don’t look so dejected. It’s a long journey to Grayholm but there’s a lovely little Inn on the way. If you go into heat before we reach the manor we’ll stop there. The owner is a kind old woman who prepares the most delicious venison steaks, and the scenery is beautiful. It will be the perfect honey moon.”

Rowan forced a smile. Yes, the perfect Honeymoon. The only problem was the groom. He had to find some way to get out of this marriage, and soon. He only had two days left. Two days and his life of semi freedom and invisibility would be over. As bad as he had it in his father’s palace, he knew that life with Lord Killian would be worse. The man didn’t want a spouse that he could love and cherish. He wanted a personal sex slave that he could use and abuse. Something he could flaunt in front of others. Would he also be passed around between the Duke’s friends?

Rowan felt sick bile rise up into his throat. It took all of his strength not to vomit right there on the table. Fear suddenly had him in it’s icy grasp and he began to shiver. Folen, bless her soul, had placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm his nerves. If only she could work some of her fairy magic to whisk him away to some far off land where he’d be safe but, he knew she could not, and he would never ask that of her, as it would put her life in danger. Fairy magic was forbidden within Basmorte. The punishment if caught using it-- death. Oh how he wished that he had even an ounce of fairy magic. He’d make himself disappear. Then and only then would he finally be free.

***

It was in early hours of morning. Most of the Palace still slept. A few servants were wake, making preparations for the morning. The kitchen staff being the most active as they worked to prepare the morning meal. No doubt Lord Killian would dine with his future father-in-law. Lady Caroline and Emilia would be there as well. It made no difference to him that Lord Killian had invited Rowan to breakfast. He was certain it was just another ploy to entice him to reconsider the Lords proposal.

Rowan had never taken breakfast with his father and he wasn’t about to start now, no matter what the King said. He’d do as he’d always done and eat in his room. What did it matter anyway? It’s not as though Rowan had any say in what happened to him. He was going to be forced into this marriage whether he agreed to it or not. As an omega he had no rights. He was owned by his father and after his wedding vows were spoken and his father officially gave him away, he would become the property of Lord Killian. Whatever semblance of freedom he appeared to have was a lie. He was little more than a slave and he was expected to bend to the will of his masters.

Fear of an unknown and precarious future made sleep impossible to obtain. Rowan had taken to pacing the floor of his apartments, trying to think of a way to escape his fate. Soon though, the confines of his rooms could no longer sate the growing dread in his heart. He needed some fresh air to clear his mind. Going to his wardrobe, he took an old, worn, house robe and wrapped it around himself, concealing the sleeping dress he wore beneath, then secured the robe with a belt. Next he slid his feet into a pair of brown, fur lined slippers, and after checking to make sure the halls were empty, snuck out of his rooms and into the dark corridor.

Not a sound could be heard save for the soft padding of his slippers against the stone floors. The palace was quiet as a tomb and yet, as Rowan walked, he had the distinct feeling that he was not alone. It was an eerie feeling, like he was being watched. With each step he took, that feeling of unease grew stronger. A trickle of fear crawled up his spine and his non-existent breath hitched. The heart that wasn’t supposed to beat suddenly fluttered, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. This uncanny sense of dread encompassed him, driving him forward as he quickened his pace.

Is this what humans felt, he wondered, being stalked by some supernatural beast? He could only imagine the kind of fear his kind elicited in humans. No wonder humans feared them so. To be faced with something so powerful and deadly and yet have no means with which to defend yourself. It must be terrifying. Rowan hated preying on the weak. Though many vampires kept human slaves to feed from, Rowan himself had never tasted human blood. He loathed the idea of it. He even found it difficult to drink the blood of animals. He did, of course, when necessary for survival, though he hated it.

Rowan had just turned the corner into a small alcove when he swore he caught the flutter of something dark out of the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath and focused his energy into the still and quiet darkness around him. The shadows began to swirl and ripple and he swiftly stepped into them, concealing himself within the darkness. He could only hold the illusion for so long. His energy was weak and he suddenly wished that he’d taken the swine blood Folen had offered him the previous day. No matter. He focused all of his energy into the illusory mist that surrounded him and waited for whatever or whoever was following him to pass by.

His stalker didn’t pass by him though. The moments ticked by as he waited. Then, strange movement caught his eye. The air around him seemed to flutter and then melt as though suddenly made fluid. It was like watching a curtain of rain appear out of nowhere forming a puddle of swirling rings on the floor. The first thing he saw emerge from the fluidic ripples was the flowing hem of someones skirts. Next to appear was a hand, then the arm attached. Soon the silhouette of a woman stepped forward. The phantom rain dripped from her body yet she was still dry. She turned and Rowan cringed at the woman standing before him. Emilia.

She wore a black, velvet, ball gown with a low cut bodice that was trimmed with black lace. Her ebony hair was woven into a pleated crown upon her head with two silken ringlets on either side of her head. Her blood red lips parted in a menacing smile and she spoke, softly, into the darkness.

“Impressive trick.” She crooned. “Any vampire can manipulate the elements, but only the most skilled can manipulate the shadows. Though, I suspect you’re using more than vampire guile to preform such a feat. Your magic reeks of fairy glam.” She sighed, looking around, trying to pin point Rowan’s location. “You might as well come out and face me.” She sneered, tapping her foot softly on the stone floor beneath her. “I can hear the hideous beating of your treacherous heart.”

Feeling the illusion begin to falter, Rowan knew he could not hide for much longer and Emilia didn’t seem as though she planned to leave any time soon. Reluctantly, he let the illusion fall and stepped out from within the shadows.

“Ah, there you are.” Emilia narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she studied him. Only a brief moment had passed before Emilia took a step back, glaring at Rowan angrily. “What are you?” She hissed.

Rowan shrugged. “A vampire, like you.”

“No.” She shook her head in disgust. “You are nothing like me. And you’re nothing like any vampire I have ever met, you are...something else. It’s no wonder that your father has kept you isolated here in the palace. What is it he is trying to hide I wonder?”

“Only the fact that he has an omega son.” Rowan retorted. “I should think that was obvious.”

“Right, an omega. Another thing about you that doesn’t make sense. Something that isn’t supposed to exist in our world and yet, here you are. An omega, with a beating heart, living, yet dead. Able to preform illusory Fae magic. You, my dear Prince, are an anomaly.”

Rowan sighed, tired of the cat and mouse game. “What do you want, Emilia? I find it difficult to believe that you’ve been stalking me through these halls just to point out how odd I am.”

She laughed a sinister laugh. “You know, my mother and I have been discussing you since we came to live here in the palace. I’ve watched you sneak out to the gardens late at night. I’ve seen you touch a dying rose and watched as it sprang back to life. I’ve even seen you speak to the trees as though they were sentient beings.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the slightest bit creepy.”

Emilia grinned. “You detest the sight of blood. You haven’t fed in quite a smile. I can smell the weakness on you.”

“Is there a point to this?”

She nodded. “I was just wondering what your future husband would do once he’s discovered all your little secrets. I think you’d be lucky if he only had you banished to Ravenskeep or Rosegate. My guess is though, that he’d have you publicly executed.”

“And you’re worried about my well being?” Rowan chuckled. “Why, my dear step-sister, I never realized how much you cared.”

“I don’t.” Emilia glowered. “Not about you at least.”

“Then why are you here?” Rowan asked, growing impatient.

“I want to help you.” Emilia confessed.

“Really?” Rowan scoffed at her. “Forgive me but, I find that a little hard to believe. You despise me.”

“True. I really have no care what happens to you, honestly. But, by helping you, I’m also helping myself.”

“To what end?”

“To get you out of my way.” She stated, flatly.

“I’ll be gone in two days.” Rowan told her. “I’ll be well out of your way then.”

Emilia rolled her eyes. “Yes, and married to my future husband!”

Rowan laughed at that. “You can have him, please. By all means. I have no desire to marry that cad.”

Emilia sighed. “If only it were that easy. Unfortunately, with you here, I can never wed him. You have caught his eye, though why I can not say, but there it is. He plans to wed you and unless we do something about it, the marriage will take place as scheduled and you and I both lose something we want. Me, the man I love, and you, the freedom to do as you please.”

“Love?” Rowan huffed. “You love power and wealth. The only reason you want to wed him is to rise to his station. No longer a lowly baroness but a duchess.”

“And one day Queen.” She smirked. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

“So, my lady, what is your plan? To murder me and take my place?”

She shrugged. “That would be ideal but I don’t think even the King could allow that to go unpunished. You are a prince, after all. No matter how much your father despises you, you’re still a royal. The council would no doubt investigate and demand action. If the murder of any member of the royal family goes unpunished it would make the crown look weak and vulnerable. Someone may even challenge the King and attempt to over throw him. So, no, murder is out of the question.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” Rowan crossed his arms over his chest as he listened to Emilia planning his eminent demise.

“Indeed I have.”

“So, again I ask, what is your plan?”

“Oh, that’s simple.” Emilia grinned a wide, toothy grin. Rowan shivered as he realized that she had something sinister in mind. “You, my dear brother, are going to kill yourself. Once your out of the way, Lord Killian will have no choice but to wed me, if he still wishes to be a part of the royal family, as I will be the Kings only available child. Or, will be once our parents have wed.”

“And, you think I’m just going to go along with this willingly?”

“I do. Once you’ve heard my proposal. It’s a master plan that will ensure we both achieve our goals.”

“My goal is not to die.” Rowan sneered. “I think you underestimate the strength of my resolve. While I would like nothing more than to get out of this arranged marriage, death is not an option I would even consider.”

Emilia reached inside her bodice and Rowan watched, curiously, as she pulled out a glass vile no longer than her index finger and no bigger round than the stem of a rose. He looked closer at it and saw that it contained a liquid too dark to be blood as it was nearly black.

“Poison?” He asked, raising en eyebrow. Surely she was joking. Did she really expect that he would drink that, willingly?

“It’s a draught of sleeping death. A sleeping potion so powerful that it gives the illusion of death.”

“The illusion of death?” Rowan grinned impishly. “Let me guess, only true love’s kiss can break the spell?”

Emilia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such an idiot.” She chided. “The effects will wear off in time. It just depends on how much you take.”

“And this amount?” Rowan asked, pointing to the vile in her hand. “How long will this one last, should I drink it all?”

Emilia grinned. “A drop of this will keep you asleep for a day, maybe two. Drink the entire thing and you will sleep for a month. You’ll awake hungry but otherwise unharmed. Vampires have used this potion to induce hibernation, for centuries. It’s perfectly safe.”

She held the bottle out to him and Rowan stared at it for a moment before taking it from her hand. He studied the vile and the contents inside. He turned the vile over in his hands, the liquid inside moved slow, like sludge. He eyed Emilia suspiciously.

“What happens after I drink this? Everyone will think I’m dead, where will I go?”

“That’s up to you.” Emilia told him. “By the time you awaken I’ll have married Lord Killian and will have settled in Grayholm. You can go where ever you want, so long as you leave Basmorte. That’s most important. You must leave and never return. Make sure no one sees you. Once you’ve left the Kingdom, you’re free to go where you wish, do as you please. It’s really no concern of mine.”

“But how? I’ll have nothing. I’ll be penniless. How am I suppose to start over when I’ve never been on my own?”

Lady Emilia rolled her eyes in frustration. “Must I think of everything?”

“This is your plan.” Rowan growled.

“Fine.” Emilia crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled. “My mother will leave a bag in the tomb where you will be laid to rest. She’ll make sure to leave clothing, a bag of gold, and enough blood to sate your hunger for the journey. After you’ve fed and your energy replenished, take the bag and walk north, to Edleson’s rock. I’ll have a servant meet you there with a horse. Take the horse and ride east, to Nightport. After that, you’re own your own.”

“How will you know when I’ve woken.”

Emilia huffed, already sick of all the questions. “I’ll know. Trust me. I’ll do my part. I want nothing more than to have you gone, for good. Go about your business as if nothing has changed. Pretend that you have given in and agree to marry Lord Killian. Play your part. Be the dutiful little omega he wants. Then, the night before your wedding, take the potion. You’ll fall into a deep sleep and when the court physician examines you, he’ll pronounce you dead. You’ll be interred in the royal family crept as is tradition, and both our troubles will be over.”

Rowan went over the plan again in his head as he held the small vile in his hand. The plan was flawless, as far as he could tell, yet still, something didn’t feel right. “It can’t all be as simple as that.” He said, looking up at Emilia, his eyes reflecting dozens of questions he dare not ask.

“It is that simple.” She told him, curtly. “Now, return to your rooms and try to sleep. You have a busy day today and much planning to do before the wedding. ”

“Seems a waste for an event that won’t take place.”

“True, but you have to keep up appearances. Make sure they suspect nothing or the entire plan goes to hell. Do as I’ve instructed and in a months time you’ll be free and I’ll be a duchess.”

“I know you’re doing this for your own gain, but...thank you.” He slipped the vile in his pocket and bowed to Emilia. The first bit of respect he’d ever shown her.

“I don’t want your thanks.” Emilia sneered. “I just want you gone. You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long.”

“Of course.” Rowan said, a hint of sadness in his voice. The Lady Emilia and her mother had been every bit as much of a thorn in Rowan’s side as he had been in theirs but he was still a bit saddened by the fact that it had come to this. In another life perhaps they could have been friends, if Emilia’s greed and lust for power had not already corrupted her soul. It’s a shame. He thought. All the time that they had spent hating each other and they could have been each others greatest allies. Now, it was too late. In a month he’d be gone and would never step foot in his father’s kingdom again.