"Blaine and I were talking when I saw you on the field--looks like your health has regained itself."
He couldn't think as he saw the light in those steely blues as Davin stepped closer. The arm moved from his waist to his back and then Michael took note of his words. 'He talked with Master Blaine. . .must have told him about my being his supposed Heartsworn, and how he needs me in order for him to keep his kingdom--only for that does he want me,' he thought and moved away from Davin before he could bring his other arm about him.
"Yes, my health is fine--I thank you for your concern," Michael said almost in a whisper as he tried to still the traitorous pounding of his heart.
Davin watched Michael as he stepped away, not knowing what to do--he had felt the attraction, seen it in his eyes. . .seen also a sharp sadness as he had pulled away. 'Did he perchance have an intended or a set joining? No, lords had set joinings and the ring was on the wrong hand for that and the ring itself was too fine for a lord--more befitting a Royal. . .yet I know every Royal in the kingdoms,' Davin thought as he turned and moved forward.
Michael's shoulders tensed as he heard Davin walk up to him. He didn't realize just how tense he was till he jumped slightly when the prince spoke. "There was fought a fierce battle," Davin--pointing off to a far mountain--voiced proudly and told of an ancestor who had staved off an invasion from a rival House. He told of the six other kingdoms and their prominent cities--trying to acertain where Michael was from--as they walked alongside the wood to their right.
"Blaine was telling me about your kingdom and how you've stayed autonomous," Michael said after a long silence, "it must be quite a struggle."
"Verily so. I and my Council have kept the benefits of peace since my father's father. . .but some are not so contented," Davin said, his jaw tightening angrily. There was dissension amongst the Council--a few wished to support a cousin that had a wife along with a young son and daughter, while others urged some kind of alliance but then his county would be a vassal only--but these were mere mutters for none could rule without a Heartsworn and he had lost his love years ago. Of course he had dalliances here and there, but finding love again? No, that could not be for Trey had loved Davin for who he was. The men he dallied with were responsive enough and interested. . .in what they could get out of a Royal. The Royals were no better--they were more enraptured by the prospect of his land than in him. So, Davin had closed his heart off emotionally. The Council--at his behest had declared the cousin's elder child heir to the kingdom--this along with the loyalty and strength of his army prevented civil unrest and war from other kingdoms.
Michael listened as Davin talked further about his land and his people. He felt his concern and desire to protect his people and he saw something deeply shadowed in his eyes as Davin changed the subject and talked of his growing up--getting into trouble swinging down a castle wall by a rope, riding his father's war-charger and being flung over it's head and breaking his arm, snatching food from the cook's kitchen, and learning to fight with his father's guards.
"What of your mother?"
"She died when I was barely 10 summers," Davin responded.
"Ah--I'm sorry--my mother died nearly 5 ye. . .um, summers ago," Michael corrected, using their term for years.
"She was beautiful. . .she always had a glow about her--would you like to see a portrait?"
"Yes, I would," Michael answered as they walked back to the tree where their horses were and rode back to the castle. Davin led him up the stairs to the second floor of the Main Hall and began to point out portraits that were on the walls.
"Queen Ana and Prince Consort Reynan. . .King Andor and Queen Consort Kalse. . .Queen Averyn and Consort Sharlyn. . .King Artyn and Consort Brennan," Davin said as they walked along the gallery. Michael saw that the last two were of two women and two men--hence the difference in the titles. "Here she is, my mother--Queen Consort Helea and King Arden." The portrait captured the essence of the two--force and strength seemed to radiate from the King's dark eyes and warmth and light emanated from the Queen Consort's deep blue eyes and fair hair and her upturned face showed a strong jaw line. Their left and right hands were intertwined
"She must have been a remarkable woman."
"Verily so--she could be every bit as stubborn as father was," Davin commented as Michael's attention was caught by a dusty painting hung in a dark archway. He walked closer and could barely make out two figures but could tell they were two women. He reached up to brush cobwebs and gray dust away and heard Master Blaine greet Davin. He worked at the painting and finally saw a pair of grey-blue eyes whose color was soft yet powerful. Michael brushed away the rest of the dulling film and saw long, wavy auburn hair framing a heart-shaped face. He gasped and drew back from the painting as if it's subject had moved. Davin and Blaine stopped talking and looked over at Michael and then quickly away when they saw where he was.
"Who is that in this painting?" Michael asked shakily.
"A distant relative to the Royals," Blaine said, trying his best to sound very nonchalant.
"Yes, merely a relative," Davin agreed tersely.
"Who is that woman in the portrait?" Michael yelled as a dusty finger shook and pointed to her face. "Tell me--please," he said, directing his gaze towards Davin. He looked at Michael--not at the portrait--then over to his friend helplessly.
"She was Consort to Queen Valeria and did manage to stop a war," Master Blaine said in an almost excusing manner. "Davin, a messenger awaits you in the sitting room," he added.
"Thank you, Blaine," Davin said in a tone that stated that the thanks was not for letting him know of the messenger, but of giving him an excuse to be elsewhere. Davin nodded at Michael before he left and Michael saw that he shifted his eyes away from the now visible woman's face.
"Spill it, Blaine--who is this woman?"
"Why do you not tell me yourself for your reaction to her tells me that you seem to know already."
"I know who--but it cannot be! It is impossible!"
"Whom do you think this woman to be?"
"That face. . .is the face of my mother," Michael said in a whisper, certainty that this woman was his mother crept into his voice, but a hint of doubt as to how she could have been here edged the words.
Blaine stood in shock and then acted as swiftly as a hungry python snatching an unwary animal. He grabbed Michael and flung him into the nearest room and slammed the door. They were in a small study with double doors leading out to a balcony and a fireplace. A desk sat to the left in front of many shelves of books. Blaine closed the doors to the balcony and sat down at the desk and looked up at Michael.
"What you say is impossible," He began--sounding calm and rational," that woman lived over a hundred years ago and was magically banished from the kingdom."
"What did she do--and what was her name?"
"Her name was Alea--she was Heartsworn to Queen Valeria. Theirs was a troubled time--war was raging with the kingdom to the north, crops were at a modicum because of conscription. Queen Valeria fell in battle and her death caused Alea to. . .lose control of her magic."
"What did she do to make her into the all-time bad bogeyman?"
"She cursed the northern kingdom's land--she not only had her own power, but also that of Valeria for if one Heartsworn dies their magic is 'inherited' by the survivor."
"So she made some crops to fail and rivers to dry out--so what?"
Blaine pointed to a map on the wall. "Look to the north of Ardith--what do you see?"
"I see nothing but a range of mountains," Michael answered as he found Davin's kingdom on the map and then traced above it.
"That range was the kingdom of Balsaryn--a wide place of level fields and farms. Hundreds of thousands of people died by her magic--a lot of them our own men and boys."
"I do not believe you."
"Then ask Davin if you doubt my word--but you still need to explain your own words to me."
"You shall think that I am mad," Michael began as he sat down in a chair in front of the desk.
"I saw the way you arrived here--tell me."
Michael then confessed everything to Blaine--the book containing the spell, the flare of light and the bump on his head and then he started to tell him of the world where he was from. Blaine just looked at him as if he had sprouted wings and flown about the room. Michael grabbed a writing utensil and a paper and drew some of the things as best he could to explain them better. He drew cars, airplanes, told of TV and radios, skyscrapers and telephones, wars with bombs and chemicals. He grew tired and sat back in the chair--he had no idea how long he had been talking, but the desk was littered with drawing after drawing--and waited for the men in the white coats to come, if indeed they had such here.
Blaine held a few of the drawings in his hands and shuffled through them for a while and then set them down. "I believe you--only because a madman's words would make more sense to me than yours have. This is no good thing, your being the son of Alea--none must find out."
"Who would believe it? I do not--my mother was a great woman capable of every kindness and would not harm anyone."
"I cannot say as to what she was only to what she had been," Blaine pointed out gently.
"How could she have come from here to where I was?"
"How is it that you came to be here? She was banished by the Great Council's magic--we thought she had died. But apparently she was sent in exile to your world."
"My home is not that terrible to be labeled so--the Great Council--do they still exist?" Michael asked, as he took in his last words.
"Yes, my Master is a member--why?"
"Don't you see? They could send me home--I could return home!"
"Michael, that way lies your ruination--it would call for them to know who your mother was and they'd sooner kill you rather than banishment, which apparently does not work in the way we thought," Master Blaine said wryly. "Besides, you are. . ."
"Please do not prate on about how I am fated to be here--I am not some puppet whose strings can be conveniently manipulated!"
"But who is manipulating you? I did not bring you here--you did that yourself."
"Do not argue semantics with me--you wish to play matchmaker between me and your prince and my heart isn't a thing to be bartered or sold!" Michael fumed as he turned and left, throwing open the door so it slammed against the wall. He was so upset that he stumbled into Davin without looking up and moved on down the stairs and out of the castle.
Davin called out after Michael, but received no response. He frowned and saw the study door opened. Davin walked in and saw Blaine leaning back in the chair with his head resting on the chair and his eyes closed.
"Want to tell me what happened?" Davin asked casually.
"He found out who Alea was," Blaine said quietly and truthfully as he gathered the papers off of the desk and placed them under his arm and stood. "That would unnerve anyone--what did the messenger want?"
"He delivered a message from the Grand Council--seems they wish my immediate presence."
"Why?" Blaine asked, alarm in his eyes as he turned to face his friend.
"The message did not say--but it does not bode well," Davin said grimly.
Michael ran out of the castle and slowed as he got to the courtyard. He just wanted to run away, but to where and what? He didn't know enough about the surrounding countryside. How far was it to a town. . .a keep. . .another kingdom? He just didn't know. He walked through the garden but did not notice the flowers or plants. What was he to do? The one way that held a chance of home would lose his life and staying could lose his heart. Which fate was worse--dying or falling in love with someone who didn't love you in return? How could his mother have done the things Blaine said? She had never talked about her youth, except to say that she was an orphan. She had been so practical and levelheaded and always had a soft spot in her heart for any animal, especially a stray. He couldn't match up the two images, they were just too diverse. He sat down on a bench that circled a tree and laid his head back against the rough bark and closed his eyes as his thoughts swam.
Michael was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't see or hear Davin approach. Davin paused a few paces from him and just stared at Michael--every muscle in his body seemed to radiate stress and his shoulders stooped as if he had the weight of the world upon them. Davin stood for a minute longer, deciding if it wasn't just better for him to walk away and leave him alone and finally moved forward a step. He knew something more than what Blaine had told him was upsetting him.
"Michael. . .are you well?"
"To tell you the truth, actually, no," he answered giving a small laugh twisted with pain as Davin sat beside him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Davin asked quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"It's just. . .well. . .I wouldn't know where to start. . .I. . ." Michael said, emotion finally welling up and taking over him as he started crying. He didn't even notice as Davin moved his arm around his shoulders and that his head now rested on Davin's shoulder. He couldn't say how long he cried--a chance to go home turning into no chance at all was just the final straw to everything he had been through--but he finally did come to himself and pulled away as he realized that Davin held him even though a part of him just wanted to be still and lay in his arms and be comforted. 'Men never comfort and always hurt,' he thought wearily as he stood and walked away.
"I can't do this anymore," Michael muttered in a heartbreaking tone.
"Why are you always running away?"
"Maybe I have good reason to do so," he retorted, turning back to him. "You do not know anything of my past!"
"And whose fault is that!" Davin interjected as he stood angrily.
"Oh, forgive me, Highlord, for not bowing to your every whim and wish! I am no one's servant--I am an individual and as such have my own will!"
"Which seems bent on being left alone! Have no worry--I always accommodate my guests!" Davin vented heatedly as he strode away, his blue eyes fiery with ire. Michael just watched him stride away, a piece of his heart breaking at each step.
"He'll be better off without me and I him--besides he just wants me in order to gain his inheritance," Michael whispered, trying to make himself believe that he'd be okay.
Belief failed him.