Shadows of Desire Ch. 10

Was that her plan? He wondered. Frame him for Emilia's death then watch as he was dragged to the courtyard, begging for mercy, before being tied to the pyre and burned alive?

"Fuck her!" Killian sneered. He wasn't about to give her the satisfaction and, there was no way that he was going to allow them to lock him up again.

He snapped his head around to the double doors as he heard yelling and the pounding of boots coming towards him. The maids had alerted the guards and they were seconds away from bursting through the doors. Killian knew there was no way to escape now and with Emilia laying there dead, he was sure to get the blame. He'd rushed through the room of maids, attacked two of them, and all of them had seen the dagger in his hand. His only choice now seemed obvious. He closed his eyes and whispered into the empty room. "I'll be joining you soon, my love."

Grasping the dagger in both hands, he held it above his heart and, just as the doors flew open and four guards rushed in, Killian plunged the dagger deep into his own chest. Killian fell to his knees, his arms slack at his sides as he looked down at the blood pouring from the wound in his chest and the silver dagger sticking out of the wound, the light from the single candle flickering off the shimmering metal. He looked up as the guards surrounded him and smiled at them. A line of blood escaped his mouth and trickled down his chin and before he fell, darkness and death drawing him into their comforting embrace, he could hear his own insane laughter echoing throughout the room. He truly had gotten the last laugh.

***

Caroline sat in her designated spot in the stands, high above the rest of the onlookers. The seat beside her, normally reserved for the Princess, was empty. The Queen had sent a servant to check on her daughter. Such a request did not seem odd or out of place as everyone would have expected Emilia to join her mother. As Caroline looked out to the curious faces of the crowd she smiled. More people had shown up for this nights 'special' execution. Whispers rose up from the lower seats as heads turned this way and that and everyone speculated as to who the 'star' of tonight's show was.

What a shock it will be. The Queen thought. When they see their Prince being dragged from the dungeons. Truly, this will be a night to remember.

The seconds ticked by as the crowd waited with bated breath. Two, three, one...The tower clock struck midnight and all heads turned towards the dungeon doors, eagerly waiting to see who was going to be marched out and across the courtyard to the pyre that was set up in the center of the yard in full view of everyone. Caroline's grin widened. Her elation growing as she thought about what was to take place. The supposedly dead Prince, burning before all of Basmorte. A clear sign to all that Caroline was Queen and that no one could challenge her. Once Rowan was dead, dead for real this time, there would be no one left who had any claim on the throne. Her crown would be secured, forever.

Keeping her eyes trained on the door she waited. The courtyard was as silent as the grave, each of the on-lookers silently wondering, who was it? Who was the Queen going to kill? Why was this person being kept secret? There were many rumors and speculations but none of them were correct, of course, for none could have possibly imagined that the omega Prince was still alive.

Minutes crept by. It was now three past midnight and the doors had not opened. No one stepped out into the dimly lit courtyard. No guards, no prisoner...no one. Caroline wrung her hands nervously. What was taking them so long? She had sent Greagor himself to escort Rowan out. Rowan couldn't have overpowered Greagor as well as the guards with him. Her guards weren't so weak as to be taken down by a mere boy...were they?

Caroline shook the thought from her head. Rowan was nothing. An impudent child. Even if he was descended from the Tuatha, he didn't have their power, nor would he know how to wield it. What and who he was, was inconsequential. He simply did not matter.

By five minutes past, the crowd began to whisper, snickering under their breath. The Queen had lost her prisoner. Many began to rise from their seats and exit the stands, not wanting to waste their time. Others kept their eyes on the Queen, wondering what she was going to do now.

Caroline scowled. She was not about to let some insignificant little pest make a fool of her. "You there!" She shouted to the nearest servant to her. A youthful squire with light brown, nearly blond, hair, nervously made his way towards her, bowing at her feet.

"Y-yes, my Queen?" The boy stuttered.

"Go to the holding cells of the dungeon and find out what is taking the Captain so long." She reached out, grabbing the squire by his collar and jerked him forward, their eyes meeting. "And, for your sake, do not return to me without my prisoner, or I'll put his chains on you."

The boy nodded swiftly, his body trembling in her grasp. His legs wobbled and he did his best to stay upright as he scrambled to get away, bowing once more. "R-right away, your Majesty." His voice broke with fear, even his words trembled. The Queen waved him off and he rushed back down the stands and towards the dungeon doors, frantic in his need to discover what had caused the Captain to delay in marching the prisoner out to the waiting crowd.

When he'd reached the door, he pushed it open with such force that it hit the inner wall with a loud bang. He stepped inside and looked around. At first he saw nothing, just an empty corridor, torches along the wall lit the space with a flickering glow. From beneath him he could hear the groans and shouts of the prisoners still in their cages. He took a couple hesitant steps forward and there he saw the guard station, a small area built into the wall with one window, a table and two chairs, meant for the use of the guards on duty. The room itself was empty but in the middle of the corridor he saw the two guards who were supposed to be on duty, laying face down on the floor.

Panic seized the young squire as he rushed forward and checked on the men, fearing the worst. To his utter relief, the two guards were only unconscious, not dead. The squire scanned the rest of the area, checking dark crevices and around corners, worried that whoever had attacked the guards could still be lurking in the shadows. He exhaled the breath he'd been holding and allowed himself to relax some when he realized that he was alone. Aside from the unconscious guards. But, that raised an important question. Where was the Captain, and where was the prisoner that he was supposed to escort?

The squire stood up and looked down the hall leading in the other direction, the hall that led to the tunnels beneath the castle. The squire had never traveled through those tunnels before and he wasn't sure where they led but it seemed that if he were to get answers to his questions, it was down said tunnel that he would find them.

"Don't be a coward." He chastised himself. What was worse? Facing whatever awaited at the end of that tunnel, or facing the wrath of an angry Queen if he returned empty handed? The squire took a deep breath, stealing his nerves, and began the march down the tunnel, ready to face whatever was waiting for him at the end.

4. FATE'S UNYIELDING GRIP

Rowan leaned against the wall to catch his breath. He and Greagor had been running since escaping the dungeons. Greagor looked over at the boy and frowned. They had reached the chamber just beneath the guard house but Rowan was unable to continue without first stopping to rest. Greagor waited beside the ladder that would lead them up and to freedom. He wanted Rowan to hurry but he decided against rushing him. Pushing him too hard and having Rowan get sick wouldn't do them any good and besides, Greagor wasn't exactly sure what they were going to do once they reached the guard house anyway. His first assumption that his men, men he'd trained himself, would stay loyal to him was a grave error on his part. He was just glad that he hadn't had to kill the two guards in the dungeon. They were still his men after-all.

When he and Rowan had reached the top of the stairs, Greagor had debated with himself whether to go through with the execution as ordered by the Queen, or do what he knew in his heart was right. The decision weighed heavily on him and for a moment, he almost decided against helping the boy but, it was Rowan's own assurances that convinced him otherwise. Greagor felt the guilt of his choices gnawing at his insides. He'd agreed to help Rowan escape but his reasons weren't entirely unselfish ones.

As they stood there, looking down the corridor that would lead to Rowan's death, Rowan made one last plea for mercy. Greagor had tried to harden his heart to the boy's pleading but he couldn't help but feel some remorse for Rowan's predicament. It was Greagor who had found him in the Shee village. It was Greagor who had ordered him to be taken back to the castle, and it was Greagor who had delivered him to the Queen. What was the alternative though? The Queen had ordered him to question every member of that village and then round them all up and bring them back to the castle. Rowan would have been brought back regardless. Even if he had allowed Rowan to escape into the forest, he was almost certain that one of the soldiers would have recognized him and told the Queen.

So many what if's and maybe's and yet Greagor couldn't get past the feeling that all of his decisions were made out of fear. Fear of what the Queen would do to him or his family if she discovered his deception. When Rowan had made his final plea for help, all of Greagor's shame and guilt over what he had done to the boy came to the surface like bile rising up from his stomach. The sour taste of betrayal sickened him and he suddenly felt like retching. He had to make it right. Consequences or not, he had to make it right. If not, he'd never be able to live with himself or carry on as the Captain of the royal guard for, Rowan was the Prince and the rightful heir to the throne and Greagor had sworn an oath to protect the crown at all costs. As far as he was concerned, that meant Rowan, not Caroline.

He had looked down at Rowan. The boy had tears in his eyes and he shook as he spoke but still, even in the face of his own death, he showed a spirit that Greagor had to admire. He had escaped the Palace a mere child but that child had grown into a man, brave and selfless, and with fierce determination. Determination to survive.

At first, Greagor thought that Rowan was pleading for his own life but then, Greagor watched as Rowan's hands lowered to his stomach where he cupped his belly and he pleaded for the life growing inside of him. It was in that moment that he knew what he had to do. He couldn't walk Rowan out to the pyre, no matter what the Queen had ordered. He could barely bring himself to accept one innocent life being taken, but two? He just couldn't do it. Not again. Greagor had to do something. The Queen's reign of terror had to stop.

"If you can help me get past the main gate." Rowan told him. His tears glistened in his eyes like jewels. His large, round, eyes like two shimmering emerald pools. Greagor looked into his eyes and saw something that he had never seen in any vampire before. There was a spark, just a glimmer, but enough that Greagor could see the power that lay dormant in the boy. Fairy magic of the oldest kind. It was often whispered that the omega Prince was different. He could do things that other vampire's could not. He could control the shadows and move through them. Plants and flowers obeyed him. With one touch he could bring a dead blossom to life, or snuff that life out.

Greagor could see now that those rumors were not rumors but untold truths. Knowing this gave him hope. Maybe, given his unique heritage, Rowan could overthrow the Queen. He may be the only one who could. "I'll be able to find my husband, Prince Thaden of Rosegate." Rowan continued. "He's probably already on his way here, to find me. I just need to reach him."

"And what then?" Greagor asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at the young Prince, searching his eyes for any sign of deception and not finding any. "Will you run away into the night once more, abandoning your people?"

Rowan's expression became stern, his brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "No." He said without hesitation. His voice suddenly taking on a tone of authority. "I'll fight. I'll save them. Caroline's time as Queen is over."

Greagor pursed his lips, then nodded. "I'll help you."

***

"My Queen." The guard bowed before Queen Caroline, his deep baritone voice shook with trepidation. Being one of the newest recruits to his unit, he was tasked with the unfortunate responsibility of delivering extremely distressing news to the Queen. Already annoyed with the execution not going to plan, she most certainly was not going to take the news well. No one wanted to be the one to approach her, no one wanted to be the cause of her anger or the target of her wrath.

"What is it?" She snapped, raising an eyebrow as she dared him to tell her anything other than her prisoner has been found and is being brought out as they spoke. "You have good news, I hope."

The guard closed his eyes and hung his head low. He let out an audible sigh as he braced himself, not knowing what the Queen's reaction will be but expecting the worst. "With deepest regret." He began. "I must inform her Majesty of a terrible crime. It seems that Lord Killian, after escaping his tower rooms and killing the guard on duty has..." He hesitated a moment, lifting his head enough to look up to the Queen with pleading eyes.

"Yes?" The Queen said, growing more impatient by the moment. Of course, she knew what he was going to tell her. Emilia was dead and Killian had killed her. The fate of Lord Killian however, she was not aware of but, whatever she was told, she had to appear as though she were in shock and overcome with grief over the loss of her daughter.

The guard swallowed, nervously. "Killian has..." His hands shook. He could already feel a noose snaking it's way around his neck, growing tighter the more the Queen's eyes bore into him. The figurative noose was choking him and he actually coughed. He didn't want to speak the next words but what choice did he have? "Lord Killian has..."

"Spit it out!" Caroline yelled. Heads of onlookers turned in the her direction as the crowd wondered what was going on. The guard at her feet felt as if he might faint at any moment. He felt embarrassed, and ashamed. He was a guard. Trained to fight and defend. He faced death every time he took up his sword but, kneeling before the Queen now, was the most frightened he had ever been in his life.

"The Princess Emilia." He sputtered. The Queen leaned closer at the mention of her daughter and the guard tensed. The woman's suffocating presence made it hard to speak but he managed to relay the message he'd been sent to give her. "She's dead." He cringed as he said the words. The Queen's eyes went wide and her hands twisted and curled into two tight fists. He could feel the anger rolling off her, could smell it almost. Oh how he wanted to run then. Just jump to his feet and run. Anywhere, just to escape his demon Queen and the murderous glare that she was giving him.

"How?" The word came out as a low, dangerous growl. Her top lip curled back, revealing her fangs. Her eyes turned black as they narrowed, pinning the guard down with her gaze. She was on her feet in a second, and from her position she towered over the guard as she demanded answers from him. "How did this happen?" She screamed at him.

The guard shook his head. "My Queen, I do not know how Lord Killian escaped but I was told that he entered the Princesses chambers, attacked her maids, and locked himself in her bed chamber. By the time the royal guard had broken through the doors, Killian had already dispatched her. He had..apparently...stabbed her through the chest with a silver bladed dagger."

Caroline, flustered, began to wring her hands and fidget as though not sure what to do. She appeared to take in the information with a sense of uncertainty as though she were having difficulty believing what she had just been told all the while, murmuring to herself words to low for others to hear. She turned back to the guard, her crazed and darkened eyes bore into him. "Where is Lord Killian now?" She demanded. "Where is my daughter's killer?"

"Dead." The guard responded. "By his own hand. Before the guard could arrest him, he drove the same dagger through his own heart."

"Dead?" She repeated the word as she paced back and forth on the landing before her chair. "And what of the prisoner?"

"My Lady?" The guard looked at her, confused.

"The prisoner you fool! The one who was meant to be executed tonight. Where is he? And where is Greagor? Is everyone in this palace so incompetent?" Before the guard should answer her, Caroline raked her claws across his face. Three deep gashes appeared, ripping through his left eye, across his nose, and through the corner of his mouth. Blood gushed from the wound and the guard howled in pain as he covered his face with his hands and fell backwards, into the stands. Those seated there moved out of the way as he came crashing down to where they had been sitting.

Momentarily dazed, the guard lay on his side, his legs hung limply over the wooden bench, his hands still covering his wounded face. No one moved to help him. They too feared the Queen's wrath. The Queen herself, sat back down in her seat and watched as the guard groaned and struggled to right himself on the bench. With one hand still covering his eye, he used the other to push himself up to a sitting position. His face and hands were covered in blood but, the wounds themselves had stopped bleeding, already beginning to heal themselves.

"Get up!" The Queen commanded. "Honestly! You're a disgrace. You're lucky I don't have you beheaded for your incompetence."

The guard had managed to drag himself to his feet, giving the Queen a half bow as he still had one hand over his eye and was unsteady on his feet. He was seething with anger now that replaced the fear he'd once had when facing the Queen. He glared back at her as she stared at him showing no remorse for her actions. Instead, he saw a smug smile form on her lips. "Remove your hand." She ordered him. He did as instructed, saying nothing, only lowering his hand to reveal the bloodied and scarred flesh across his face and, the eye that was now clouded, blind, having been torn in half and then sealed back together with an obvious slit across the pupil.

Caroline looked him over, admiring her handy work and, for a moment, the guard thought he saw a hint of amusement in her cruel eyes. "What is your name?" She asked him.

"Evander." He answered coldly.

"Well, Evander." The Queen smirked at the guards obvious disdain for her. "You shall serve as a reminder to all of what happens to those who displease their Queen. Now, tell me. Where is Greagor and my prisoner?"

"We do not know." Evander told her. His expression remained emotionless. No longer fearing that she would kill him, Evander instead regarded her with contempt. He hated the woman. Now, more so than before. This was not the ruler he wished to serve but he had no choice. She was Queen and he was bound by duty to obey her. He contained his anger as he stood before her but, if ever he'd had any respect for the woman at all, it was gone now. "Two guards were discovered in the hall at the top of the stairs leading to the dungeon. Neither the Captain nor the prisoner have been found yet and the squire you sent is also missing."

Caroline grit her teeth, her long claws raking across the arm of her chair. Her wicked smirk gone now, replaced with rage. Evander internally grinned. He wouldn't say it aloud but he actually hoped that the prisoner, whoever he was, managed to get away. Not because he felt the man was innocent or because he felt the Queen was wrong but, because he wanted to see her squirm. Whoever this prisoner was, whatever he had done, the Queen feared him. Evander could see it in her eyes. She wanted him dead because she feared what he would do to her. He must have been someone of great importance. A true enemy to the crown. Good. Evander thought. Perhaps the Queen will get what's coming to her after all.