Nine
Callum
It’s about fucking time. This whole time, I’ve been pushing and picking, trying to get her to break. Granted, it wasn’t all I was hoping for, but it’s a start.
Small victories.
Now her wheels are turning. The seed has been planted, and we just have to wait for her to bloom.
If she’s truly who we all think she is, then she could’ve obliterated that Demicrogen. Levitation is a parlor trick, but at least I have something to tell the king.
The prospect has not exhibited any physical signs of power manifestation but still shows potential.
I can’t let him have her. Not yet. No, no, no. It’s not his time.
Her mother sent her away for a reason, and I made her a promise that I never doubted I would be able to keep. Because protecting her until my last breath is easy when mine will also be hers.
Landing on the balcony, I survey my surroundings. You can never be too careful, especially when you’ve been labeled a traitor by your own people.
Ironic, really.
But I wasn’t really in a position for negotiations when Elizabeth sought me out.
“Callum, there’s something wrong. My husband, he…he hasn’t been himself. He’s gone all hours of the day, gone before I wake and when I rest my head for the night. I’ve seen his aura…change—if there is such a thing. So dark and wrong I thought there was no way I was looking at the man I married.” Elizabeth takes a moment to collect herself and catch her breath. “He’s been acting out. Strange outbursts. I plan to follow him when he leaves tonight. Should I not return, promise me you will take care of her. Protect her from whatever storm is coming our way.” The memory still shakes me to my core. I had never seen Elizabeth so concerned, but when we met the next night, I knew time was limited.
“Callum! Thank the Goddess. I was right, about everything. There was a lab full of cages, vials, and jars full of Goddess knows what. Something isn’t right, and it’s not safe for her to stay here. There were diagrams plastered on the walls, and her name was written all over them. Whatever is being planned, she’s the key.” Flustered, her words run over each other. “She needs to be hidden.” Her eyes bounce around the darkened forest, like her mind is running a million miles a minute, trying to come up with the best plan. “Fake her death, and be taken to the human realm. They won’t look there. No, no they won’t, that could work.” She mumbles under her breath.
I’m not surprised at what she found. I know it’s there and what he’s doing. Before I can speak, Elizabeth continues, “I’m sending her with Harrison. He will take her there, stay and watch over her. But when the time is right, you must go to her. She needs to be taught, trained, and prepared for what’s to come. If I don’t have the privilege to see her when she does, I need you to give her this.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an envelope, stamped with the Whitlock royal seal. “Promise me, Callum. Promise me you will protect her. You are her only hope at becoming what she is destined to be.”
I look down at her, puzzled, “Why me? I’m as dark as they come, Queen, and yet you entrust me with the life of your only daughter. Why would you risk everything your kingdom has worked so hard for just so I would be the one to protect her? You have many other guards at your disposal. I could very well use this for my own personal gain.” She gives me an amused look. I should have known this was a trap, I should have brought Lance. I should have anticipated this. I should have—
Elizabeth interrupts my thoughts, “You may be dark, but you are also light, Callum. I can see what kind of hand the goddess dealt you, and it hasn’t been a fair one. But your darkness isn’t like the others. As for why I chose you, you will find that out soon enough.”
I didn’t understand what she meant at that moment, but after I had my first interaction with the princess, I knew all too well who she was and what we were meant to become.
The Grand Hall used to hold the most extravagant parties, housing any and all that would attend, to a lavish night of dining, dancing and…other extracurricular activities. But since the Queen’s passing, everyone assumed the princess was dead as well.
A fire in the West wing started during one of the frequent celebrations, and by the time the Royal fireguard got a handle on things, it was too late. Everything was turned to ash, leaving whatever and whoever mixed with the piles of debris and crumbling structure.
The nursery, the royal quarters, the library Queen Elizabeth adored and would read bedtime stories to her little was gone in a matter of moments.
After that, there wasn’t anything left to celebrate. Despair and sorrow reached areas of the realm I had long forgotten about. The king barricaded himself in the East wing, for centuries, merely ruling from behind closed doors. However, once the rumblings of the princess being alive reached his ears, that was the end of the sulking and he pulled a meeting to order.
Since then, it’s been all hands on deck, trying to get the princess home.
The Grand Hall has been converted to a headquarters of sorts, especially since the table is the only one big enough to seat us all. The Light Ward castle maintains the brightness and elegance through the years. My boots pad against the white marble that extends over the floor and up the walls, echoing to fill the silence. The once filled halls are now rushing with chilling wind and empty space. Stark white columns line the entry, wrapped with gold embezzlements with the Whitlock royal crest encased in the middle, leading the way to the Grand Hall.
Upon entering, the room falls silent, the once loud voices booming off the marble turning to hushed whispers, leaving whatever latest developments being discussed to the void. Noting the king hasn’t arrived, I welcome the stares from the other kingdom’s most trusted and find my usual seat next to the empty one that should soon be filled.
These meetings have been more frequent since the news of the long-lost princess has been circulating. The king has always speculated she was out there somewhere, and he has tirelessly been searching for a decade.
Well, I’ve been searching.
The king enters the dining hall and paces around the room, a grin plastered on his face. After an insufferable amount of time, we have noted the borders are secure.
Shocker.
The others give reports about their designated sections, and when the king’s gaze finally collides with mine, I feel as if the weight of the world has crash landed on my shoulders.
“Callum, what do you have to report regarding the princess?” All eyes turn to face me, everyone anxious for my report.
“The girl has shown no physical signs of having any magical abilities. However, she does show potential that there may be something dormant. I have been keeping close eyes on her and will report back if anything changes,” I reply, keeping my lips in a hard line.
“Very well. I suppose that weekly check-ins may be too frequent, especially with no improvements. I propose you check back in one month’s time. Hopefully, you’ll have some new…”—he trails off for a moment, trying to find the right word—“ enlightening information,” he finishes with a release of breath. He looks away sharply, restacking papers and fidgeting with whatever seems out of sorts.
“As you wish. I shall see you then.” I stand from my chair, say my farewells, and make my way to the front door. As I’m about to leave the castle, Ramon, the king’s butler, stops me. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I intend to find out.” His eyebrows are pinched together to look more intimidating than he actually is. It’s hard to be when you stand at a whopping five feet two inches, balding on the top, and have a five o’clock shadow that should really be addressed.
“Oh, Ramon, it’s always a pleasure. But I assure you, I have no idea what you could be referring to,” I say as the corners of my mouth stretch across my face. I’ve never worried about Ramon. He has as much authority as the rodents in the cellar.
He’s trying to gather information to take back to the king, in hopes of becoming something important. My smile fades and fits itself into a hard line. Eyes narrowed at him, his tough-guy act shatters. “If you think you can come up to me and start throwing accusations around without consequences, you’re mistaken. I’m not sure what kind of fae you peg me for, but make no mistake. I am the eyes you feel on your back. I am the force that causes you to shudder at the mention of my name.” I stalk toward him, expanding my wings, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “I am the boogie man that your mother told you about, who won’t think twice about cutting off your limbs, feeding them to the hellhounds in the kennels, and making you watch before I end your pathetic, miserable existence.” I pause, letting the visual sink in and release an irritated breath. My lips pull into a predatory smile, imagining the joy and solace I would find in such an act, “Do I make myself clear?” I ask rhetorically because the paleness of his face and the puddle forming underneath him is enough of an answer for me.
Giving my back to him, I see myself out. Rolling my shoulders back and taking a deep breath, I spread my wings to their full span and take off into the sky.
The urge to fly home is stronger than it’s been in a while, not having been back since meeting with Elizabeth. I look around at the bright-green grass swaying with the wind, the wildflowers growing throughout the fields in an array of colors, and it’s not that I don’t find this place entrancing. It’s just not home.
Everyone at home home views me as a traitor. They can all look at me like I have betrayed them and have given up hope, but when I reign victorious, they will see what all I have sacrificed to make sure what we all worked so hard for doesn’t go up in flames.
It would be naive to think there isn’t a chance they question my loyalty, especially with all the shady shit I see everyone at that table do meeting after meeting. The wind brushes underneath my wings, begging for me to change directions, to keep going West until I’m greeted with the seclusion of dark clouds and ominous woods.
Home hasn’t been home in quite some time, and yet my soul yearns to return and feel the Nefarium soil beneath my feet once more.
Staying the course, I do a circle around the area, making sure it’s secure before landing.
One can never be too careful.
Moving my hands in front of me, a portal starts to appear. An opulent gold molding encases the fluorescent red swirls before turning darker than night. Stepping through, I think of where I want to go, not needing to give it much effort as an image of Kallie appears in my head.
Nearly instantly, I’m back in the human realm, where a strange feeling of uncertainty falls over me. Rushing through the shadows toward Kallie’s dorm, the feeling only grows stronger the closer I get.
Without a second thought, I break down the door, uncaring of what consequences it might result in. The scene plays out in slow motion. And there aren’t enough chemicals in the universe that would allow me to scrub it from my memory.
Sitting on the couch is Kallie. No, she’s not on the couch. She’s straddling some low-life bottom feeder while he has his face pressed between her breasts.
Rage. Blinding rage takes over. There isn’t a thought of regret that passes as I snap my fingers, and mid-sentence, they both are struck silent and out cold.