Lovers' Veil

He entered a deeper area of Knavesmire Woods, searching the shadowed gloom for the slightest sign that the woman, or anyone else, had passed. After searching for hours he gave up, discouraged and empty-handed. He returned to his horse, untied the reins, mounted and turned back for home. He rode more quickly now, wishing to be back before the stable boy could follow his command and alert Bryce or anyone else as to where he had gone.

Reaching the stables, Leofrick found a different boy on duty. As he turned his steed over to the boy he stepped aside to allow the young man room to work. He disliked the smell of the stable, but was willing to put up with for a short while longer.

"Do you know why I've been out all day?" he asked the boy.

"No, my Prince," the boy said softly, working to remove the saddle from the horse. "It's not any of my business."

"I was out looking for someone."

"I hope you found him."

"Her. And no, I didn't."

The boy slung the saddle over a low wooden beam and turned to take the woven blanket from the steed's back. "I'm sorry, sir."

Leofrick grinned, saying, "Thank you. I was hoping maybe you could help me."

"Me, sir?" The boy turned and froze, staring up at him, his expression one of utter shock.

"Yes, you." The Prince stepped forward slowly, speaking more softly. "I saw her yesterday while Bryce and I were out with the hunting party. She was the most ravishingly gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on. But she ran off before I could speak to her. I don't know her name or where she lives or anything else about her."

"If you saw her in Knavesmire Woods, I'd expect that she lives fairly near. Unless she was traveling, that is," the boy said.

Leofrick nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I need to find her. I can't stop thinking about her."

"And how might I help, my Prince?"

"I was hoping you'd recognize her if I described her to you. Anything you know about her might help me find her."

The stable boy nodded, saying, "I hope I can be of help. What did she look like?"

Leofrick thought back, instantly loosing himself in the memory of the bathing beauty. "She was very small and delicate, not much larger that you yourself are. She was very petite, fragile-looking, actually. She had waist-length blonde hair and angelic features."

"She sounds more child than woman, sir. Are you certain..."

"Yes. She was most definitely a woman. Do you know, or have you seen, anyone that my description might match?"

The stable boy's expression fell. "No, sir. I'm sorry."

Leofrick sighed. "It's alright. It's not your fault. I was just grasping at straws."

"In the horse stable, my Prince? And excellent place to do so."

Leofrick stared at the boy for a long moment, trying to figure the meaning of his words. As he watched, the boy's expression slowly morphed into a sly grin. Leofrick glanced down at the scattered straw on the floor and the meaning of the comment struck him. He laughed and patted the boy on the shoulder.

"Thank you. I needed the laugh. Well, I'll leave you to your work. Thank you again for your time."

"It was a pleasure, my Prince."

Leaving the stable, Leofrick returned to the castle proper and climbed the stairs to his chambers. The mirth inspired by the stable boy was fading, slowly being replaced with disappointment at not being able to find the woman he sought.

In his bedchamber, he sat on the foot of his mattress and stared straight ahead, gazing at his reflection in the mirror.

There must be a way of finding her!

He sat there for a long while, wracking his mind for any idea. When nothing presented itself he heaved a deep sigh and forced himself to his feet. Leaving his chambers, he wandered the upper stories of the castle for a time, lost in thought, before returning to his chambers just prior to suppertime to wash and dress for the meal.

When he reached the dining room, he found his parents already seated. Servants were serving the evening meal. As before, the questions began the instant he was seated.

The King paused between bites, saying, "Word is circulating that you're seeking a woman."

"Did the stable boy-"

"No," his father said, cutting him off. "It's Bryce. He's happy that you've finally taken such an interest in someone. He's apparently unable to keep the news contained."

"I should've known."

"You said little about her before. Tell us about her," his mother said.

Leofrick waited until he had a full plate before him to answer. "She not just any woman. What has Bryce told you?"

King Dugal eyed him, saying, "Not too much."

"Tell us about her," Queen Cara urged.

Leofrick sighed. "There's not much to tell. I saw her. Before I could speak to her, Bryce frightened her off. It's just like I told you yesterday evening when we had this same conversation. I don't know her name or where she lives or anything else about her."

"Yet you act as if you're madly in love with her," the King pointed out.

Leofrick nodded, saying, "I know. I can't explain it. Even after the peculiar way she just vanished. I ought to be frightened by that. Or at least concerned. But I'm not. My only thought is to find her again."

The Queen fixed him in place with a steely gaze, saying, "That's still no excuse for going out today with Bryce!"

"I didn't go far."

The King's own expression now matched his wife's. "Sometimes you don't have to, son. How many times do we have to tell you that?"

"I only went a short way into Knavesmire Woods. There are no dangers in the near end."

"No danger?" his mother exclaimed. "Tell that to all the poor men who have disappeared in those woods over the years! That's how Knavesmire Woods got its name, if you'll remember your schooling. The place is named for all the poor knaves who went in and never came back out!"

His father chuckled. "Maybe the faeries got them!"

"Don't start with that nonsense!" the Queen chided him. "We're trying to have a serious talk with our son."

King Dugal spread his hands. "I can't help it if I'm a romantic at heart, my dear. I like those old stories." He shifted his attention to Leofrick. "Since no one ever found a trace of those people, stories sprang up that the faeries got hold of them and took them across the Veil. Take care in Knavesmire Woods, lest the faeries get you, too, son."

Queen Cara couldn't help but laugh. She gave her husband a light smack on the hand and graced her son with a long-suffering look. "Your father wishes that faeries were real, I think."

The King nodded, swallowing a bite of food. "We could do with some magick in the world."

"Yes," Leofrick agreed. "Magick seems to the only way I'm going to find this woman."

King Dugal sobered at his son's words. "I don't care if you keep looking for her. But you're to take Bryce out with you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father," Leofrick sighed.

"Your father is right," Queen Cara said softly. "There are those out there who would hurt you. Or kidnap you as a way of getting at your father. Take Bryce. It's best to be prepared."

"Yes, Mother."

"So tell us," the Queen prompted, "just what's so special about this mystifying woman? What did she do to you that's making you obsess over her as you are?"

"I'm curious about that, myself," the King commented.

Leofrick pushed his half-eaten meal away and leaned back in his chair, settling against the plush cushioning behind him. "I really can't say. That's part of why this is so strange. She sang like an angel. It was her song that led me to her. She was the most unbelievably beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. But those are the only things I know about her."

His mother nodded, saying, "Why not forget about her? As you keep saying, the odds of finding her are slim. Even if your father put out a royal decree for every girl in the kingdom matching her description to come to the castle she may not be there. If her family lives deep enough in the woods they might not hear of the decree. Or she might not be from this kingdom. Maybe she was just passing through."

"I know," Leofrick said, sighing.

"So why not forget her?" the Queen pressed. "There are so many lovely young ladies in this kingdom. And there are a few Princesses in neighboring kingdoms that I know for a fact fancy you. You have a very large pool of women to choose from, all of whom would simply love to marry you. Why not stop obsessing over this one woman you don't even know and start looking to the others?"

Leofrick sighed again. "Because I'm not interested in any of those women, Mother. We've had this conversation before. All they're interested in is their public image and my money."

"But you're over thirty now," the King said. "It's time you found someone and married."

"I will, Father. Soon as I find the right woman. And there was something special about the one I saw yesterday. If I can find her again, I might have my bride. Now, if you'll both please excuse me."

He stood from the table and left, going back upstairs to his chambers.

Once more in his bedchamber, Leofrick sat on the foot of his mattress, again staring at his image in the ornately scrolled mirror that stood a few feet away.

Where are you? How can I find you?

Thoughts of the unknown young woman filled his mind completely as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Slowly, his vision grew unfocused and blurred. It took him some time to grow aware of the change in the mirror's image. His first instinct was to blink his vision clear, but he fought it, not knowing if he would lose the image or, if he did, if he would be able to get it back.

The image in the mirror was no longer his own. Leofrick found that he was staring at the unfocused image of the very woman he was so desperate to find. She wore only a long train of green diaphanous material wrapped around her nubile form. Though the garment covered her, its sheer transparency allowed him to see her delicate pink nipples and the smooth folds of her womanhood. She was crying, sobbing hard, tears streaking down her youthful face. Her lips moved, but Leofrick could hear no sounds. Despite that, he knew, somehow he knew, that she was calling for him. She was in trouble of some kind and was calling to him for rescue. He had no idea how he was aware of that, but he was certain of it.

The shock of the realization brought him to his feet. Instinctively, he blinked and the image in the mirror was gone as if it had never been. He stared at the mirror for long moments, stunned. Then he chuckled and sat back down, chiding himself for the fantasy.

"Father," he said softly, "your tales of faerie beings in the woods are starting to effect me, I think."

He shook his head, trying to dismiss what he had seen. Yet he was unable to rid himself of the certainty that the woman he sought was in some type of trouble and needed him. The longer he thought, the harder his resolve grew.

"I will find you," he said, staring at the mirror once more. "I promise that I'll find you."

Chapter 4

Princess Rhyannon Ensorcelledlight stood before the elaborate mirror, still clad in her filmy, gossamer silk wrap. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as she prayed silently to her patron goddess. She prayed, pouring her entire will, all of her energy, into a request for deliverance from her arranged marriage to Leurre. The thought of carrying through on her threat to end her own life as a way out of the marriage chilled her to the core. She would kill herself if it came to that, but the mere contemplation of such an act sickened her. She pleaded to the goddess, begging her for an alternative.

As Rhyannon recited her silent appeal over and over, she gradually grew aware of the fact that, though her entreaties were still directed to her patron goddess, the image of her mysterious human watcher had, once more, crept into her mind. Rhyannon realized that her prayers had gone from a request for some nebulous release from the arranged marriage to an appeal to send her enigmatic human to rescue her. The realization made her focus all the harder, imbuing her pleas with not only her desperation to escape the arranged marriage, but her desire to see the voyeuristic human again.

A knock on the heavy door of her chambers broke her concentration. Rhyannon wiped her face with her bare hands, trying in vain to dry her eyes.

"Who is it?" she asked softly, not trusting her voice.

The only response was another loud knock.

Silently cursing the interruption, she crossed from her bedchamber to the sitting room, padding to the door on bare feet. Expecting her father, come again to demand her apologies to Leurre, she took a firm grip on the hand-carved handle yanked the door open. She was stunned to see the elven servant in the hallway outside.

He was dressed in the billowing silk finery of the servant staff, their lack of nudity symbolizing their lack of freedom, their servitude. His head was slightly bowed. A silver tray was held expertly in his lean hands. A tall, tapered glass bottle of dark wine stood beside a highly-wrought, jewel-encrusted pewter goblet on the serving tray.

"As you have been in your chambers for so long," the servant told her in a soft voice, stepping forward, placing himself in the arched doorway, "I thought that you might like a bit of refreshment. I can bring some food along, too, if it pleases you."

Rhyannon felt a bit of her despair melt away at the elf's quiet manner and thoughtful offering. The tirade she had been prepared to unleash still struggled to burst free. But the servant had done nothing to deserve such a rebuke.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "but no. I'm not in the mood."

She moved to close the door, but the elf simply stood where he was, slightly bowed, holding the tray and its contents as an offering.

When Rhyannon spoke again, her voice was firmer, taking on an edge. "No, thank you."

Still, the elf did not move. Rhyannon felt the anger returning.

"Please return the wine to the kitchens. I don't want it."

Rather than voice a verbal reply, the elven servant bowed a bit lower and stepped forward, pushing by Rhyannon, forcing her backward, and entering into her sitting chamber. Outraged, the princess spun around to face the impertinent elf, shocked at his brazenness.

Before she could utter a word of the furious diatribe that came to mind, he began to shimmer. It was as if Rhyannon were seeing him through a heavy flickering of heat haze, but only the elf wavered, not the air around him. Before Rhyannon could even think to wonder what she was seeing, gone were the elven servant and his finery. Leurre stood before her, still holding the serving tray with its bottle of wine and goblet, nude but for his grimy, black loincloth.

"You refuse the gift from a servant," he said, voice cracked and harsh, "but would you also refuse it from your husband-to-be?"

Rhyannon felt her eyes widen with her mixture of shock, indignation and horror. "How dare you? You have no right to enter these chambers! You didn't before, when Father brought you, and you certainly don't now without his escort! Get out!"

The changeling simply placed the tray atop an elegant bookstand, picking up the wine bottle. Uncorking it, he poured a serving of the dark fluid into the goblet and held it out to her in silent offering.

"I would refuse a drink offered to me by you if I were dying of thirst and lost in the hottest desert!" Rhyannon shouted.

Leurre's already misshapen face crumpled into a scowl. He reached out his free hand, grasped her wrist with tacky fingers and forced her to take the goblet. Wine slopped over the edge, dampening Rhyannon's fingers.

Instantly, she tossed the wine into the changeling's face and swung the heavy pewter goblet at his head. Leurre's cold, clammy fingers caught her wrist again, intercepting the blow meant to crush his skull. He gave a savage twist and she cried out, releasing the goblet. It fell, striking the rug-covered stone floor with a dull thump.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, struggling.

Without a word, Leurre turned her around, putting her back to him, and wrenched her arm up. She shrieked, pain lancing through her shoulder.

As she gasped against the agony throbbing its way along her arm to her wrist, Leurre marched her into her bedchamber. Giving her a hard shove that nearly dislocated her shoulder, he sent her tumbling face-first onto her bed.

She tried to roll over, still trying to find her voice in her haze of pain, but the changeling grabbed her, flipping her onto her back. She tried to speak, but he clenched strong fingers onto her injured shoulder. Pain stole what little breath she had left.

Leurre hooked clammy fingers into the folds of silk that she wore wrapped around herself and pulled. Rhyannon gasped sharply at the painful pinches and tugs as her attacker tore the filmy garment from her upper body, leaving her small breasts revealed to his lecherous gaze.

"You are mine," he whispered softly, words barely discernable due to his fractured voice. "You will do well to remember that. Your father, your King, has promised you to me. Accept that fact now, rather than waiting until we are wed. It will make your life so much simpler and easier."

Shifting positions, Leurre tore her garment away completely, leaving her naked on the bed. Rhyannon stared up at him, frightened by both his attack and his size. Standing, he towered over her. Lying on her back, hurting from his assaults on her, he seemed huge.

The changeling stepped away a few inches, keeping his gleaming, sickly, bruise-purple eyes focused on her. Slowly, as if wanting to put on a show for her, he untied his loincloth and let it fall away. He stood naked before her, his withered, gnarled cock already semi-erect, its light gray tip peeking out of the darker gray foreskin. The shriveled gray sac of his testicals hung limply. Already, a thin line of glistening, sticky fluid was stretching to the floor from Leurre's cock. He grinned at her, the expression holding no warmth, no love, but only twisted desire.

Rhyannon remained frozen, her appalled gaze fixed on the changeling's stiffening erection, as Leurre returned to her. The changeling began to crawl up her body, looming over her. When she felt the sticky tip of Leurre's member graze her thigh she screamed, the effort ripping at her throat.

"Remember," Leurre said, "you belong to me."

Rhyannon bucked, throwing Leurre off balance. Bringing up her legs, she planted the soles of her feet on his chest and kicked, hard, dumping him to the floor. She rolled over, getting off the bed, trying to ignore the ache in her arm and the nausea that twisted her stomach.

"Get out!" she screamed. "Get out now before I find a knife and rid you of your grotesque genitals!"

Leurre climbed unsteadily to his feet, his efforts hampered by his fully-engorged shaft. "You excite me, Princess. And I will have you. Your father has promised that."

Rhyannon stepped away, wanting more distance between them. "What would my father say if he knew you were trying to rape me? I'm his only daughter; his only child! What would he say to what you're trying to do now?"

Leurre hesitated now, expression uncertain.

"I'm going to tell him," Rhyannon said, pushing ahead. "Leave now. Maybe you can outrun the guards he's sure to send after you."

The changeling opened his mouth, closed it, then jabbed a thin, twisted finger in her direction. "Wait until we are wed. From that night on, you will belong to me; you will be mine to do with as I please."

Leurre shimmered and Rhyannon once again saw the image of the thin, immaculately-dressed elven servant before her. He turned away, stopped only long enough to pick up the discarded loincloth. Rhyannon followed at a distance, watching the changeling leave her chambers. She rushed to the door, slamming it shut and locking it securely.