The Coven

Book Nine of The Guardians of Glede

CHAPTER ONE

ISBN: 9781921314483

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      "Father?"

        Crown Prince Treyas Merripen looked up from his paperwork with a smile. He beckoned the young elf into the room as he rose from behind his desk.

        "I'm not interrupting anything am I?" the brown-skinned young man asked.

        "Pepin, you are never an interruption," Treyas replied and embraced him warmly. "In fact, I'm glad you're here. I was finalizing our travel plans to Dalziel and I realized I never got your supply request. If you want to –"

        "Papay," Pepin interrupted softly, "I'm not going."

        Treyas looked at him in surprise and puzzlement. "What do you mean? Is something wrong? Is someone ill?"

        "No, no. Everyone is fine," Pepin assured him.

        "Then..." Treyas shrugged.

        "It's not my place to go, Papay," Pepin said.

        "Of course it is. You're in line to the throne."

        "That's just the point," Pepin said with a sigh of exasperation. "I'm not. Not really."

        Treyas' face grew firm. "Pepin, you're my son."

        "Yes, by choice not by chance." Pepin took hold of his arm, his dark eyes searching Treyas' face. "You've been my father since I was seven years old. There's not a day that goes by that I don't thank you with all of my heart for adopting me. But you adopted me, Papay, not the elfin empire. I should not be in line to the throne. That right belongs to Vantann. He is your first-born son, not me."

        Treyas stared at him in shock, then annoyance settled in his mis-matched blue and green eyes. "Who's been talking to you?"

        "No one." Pepin released Treyas' arm and walked over to look out the tall, mullioned window. He could feel Treyas' gaze burning into his back.

        "Then where did you come up with this idea?" Treyas asked. "Aelfdene and the elves accepted you as my son fifteen years ago, Pepin. They expect you to follow me. I expect you to follow me. What's happened that's changed that?"

        Pepin hesitated, toying idly with the drapery pull. "Father, I have a legacy," he finally said. "A role to fill. But it's not in Aelfdene. You know that."

        "I know that you're an honorary Prince of Mere Odain," Treyas said tightly, "and that you still oversee the DragonRiders there, but I was under the assumption that Faolan had filled the role you speak of."

        Pepin closed his eyes, the chill in his father's voice eating at his heart. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and turned to face Treyas. "I've taken the position back, Father," he said quietly. "I am now officially the DragonMaster of Mere Odain."

        Treyas stared at him, stunned. "When?"

        "Six months ago," Pepin replied. "On my twenty-third birthday."

        "Six...why didn't you tell me?" Treyas exploded. "Was it supposed to be some sort of secret? Was I supposed to find out the day you left home? Gods, Pepin! I'm your father! Does being twenty-three relieve you of common courtesy? I should have been told, Pepin! No! Dammit! I should have been asked!" He jerked toward the door as a soft knock sounded. "What is it?" he snapped.

        Druce Sinclair, Treyas' squire and SoulMate, stepped into the room, his dark eyes darting from Treyas to Pepin and back. "You wanted to know when Elek had arrived," he said. "He's downstairs with the children."

        "Where, Druce?" Treyas demanded hotly. "Downstairs is a bit vague."

        "In the kitchen," Druce answered slowly, then added, "He's sitting in the chair closest to the fireplace and has had three cookies and a half a glass of milk."

        Treyas glared at him. "Don't patronize me," he seethed, then glanced at Pepin. "We're not through with this discussion, Pepin. Until we are, I forbid you to return to Mere Odain!" He strode from the room, angrily pushing past Druce.

        Druce watched him storm down the circular stairway, then turned to Pepin. "What was that all about?"

        Pepin shook his head and flung himself into a chair. "Nothing!"

        "That was nothing? Come on, Pepin, what's going on? You and Treyas never fight."

        Pepin rubbed wearily at his face, then looked up at Druce. "I've officially assumed my title as DragonMaster."

        Druce's eyes went wide. "I see. When did this happen?"

        "Six months ago. I know I should have told him then. I just couldn't. Half the house was sick with poujo, and Mamay and Papay –"

        "You haven't told your mother?" Druce interrupted, aghast.

        "Not yet," Pepin mumbled, picking at the green brocade on the chair arm.

        "Coals, Pepin, and you think Treyas took it hard."

        Pepin slouched further into the overstuffed chair. "I know, I know, but at least Mamay will understand." He surged to his feet to pace. "Gods, Druce! What is it with Papay and Mere Odain? Why does he go wild every time I mention it? You'd think he'd understand. I'm half Merian, my father was the DragonMaster. I'm his only son. It's my legacy, it's part of who I am. I can no more ignore that, than he can ignore his naiad half. Why does he make this so painful for me?"

        Druce winced.  "Because it's so painful for him." He touched Pepin's arm lightly, stopping his pacing. "He's been fighting against Mere Odain's pull on you for over fifteen years, Pepin. That's a long time. A long time to be waging a personal war only to find out he lost it six months ago."

        Pepin regarded him with a frown. "I really messed this up, didn't I?" He sagged back into the chair.

        "Well, waiting to spring it on him the night before you're supposed to leave on a diplomatic visit probably wasn't the wisest course of action," Druce admitted, sitting in the chair next to him. "Why didn't you just wait until you got back?"

        "I couldn't," Pepin replied. "I'm not going."

        Druce sighed in amazement. "This just gets better and better. Why aren't you going?"

        "Because, like I told Papay, it should be Vantann going, not me. Vantann is related by blood. The lineage runs through him and Thomlin, not me. And besides," Pepin took a deep breath, "Queen El'leigh has ordered Dragon placement in Akuri Kelta. They leave in two days. I'm the overseer."

        Druce sat back with a groan. "Oh, gods, Pepin." He was quiet for a long moment.

        Pepin spoke up. "You being a Merian, I thought you'd understand."

        "Being a Merian, I do understand. The Akuri can't be given any slack. We've all seen what they're capable of. But, being your father's SoulMate, I know how he's going to take this."

        "Uncle Druce," Pepin said, sitting forward, his voice low, "he doesn't have to know. At least, not until he gets back from Dalziel. I would prefer it that way."

        "Pepin, I can't keep this from him," Druce replied in astonishment.

        Pepin hesitated. "I could order you to," he said slowly.

        Druce stiffened. "I suppose you could. I would hope that you wouldn't."

        Pepin eyed him steadily. "Will you keep quiet?"

        Druce returned the gaze defiantly. "No."

        Pepin clenched his jaw and rose. "Then consider it an order, Druce. Papay is to know nothing about this until I tell him."

        Druce also rose, his voice cold. "Consider it done, Prince Pepin. I only hope you know what you're doing."

        Pepin watched him leave, then exhaled sharply. This had not gone the way he'd intended. Not only was Treyas furious with him, Druce was as well. And since Treyas had forbidden him to go to Mere Odain, he would have to go against his father's wishes to follow Queen El'leigh's command. That is, if he wanted to truly be the DragonMaster of Mere Odain in more than just title.

        He left the study and began the walk back to his living quarters. The Elfin Council Chambers had been his home for sixteen years, ever since Treyas had plucked him out of Sarben's clan to assist in finding King Jansson van Tannen. Pepin had had more than one opportunity to claim his position as DragonMaster and always he had turned it down. He was comfortable with his elfin half, though even that was not pure. He was a brownling. His mother had been a black elf, his father a white Merian. Sarben's clan had been the only place he was accepted until Treyas had brought him to Aelfdene Valley. For a while, even that was hard.

        Treyas, being the true heir to the Crown, had appointed Kyel Sylvain, King of the Black Elves, to rule over black and white elf alike. Since Kyel's wife, Willow, was a white elf, it didn't take long for other brownlings to appear. Then, Treyas had relocated Sarben's entire clan of brownlings to Aelfdene Valley, ensuring that Pepin would never be considered an outcast again.

        So, what am I doing, Pepin thought. Why am I going against the one man who has made my life complete? He sighed and opened the door to his and Nila's solar. That was the problem. His life wasn't complete. True, he was an honorary Prince of Mere Odain and as such, could still be involved with his beloved dragons. But it wasn't enough. His legacy called to him, begged him, seduced him. He was meant to be the DragonMaster. It had ceased to be a choice. It was a command, given to him by a power he didn't understand and couldn't ignore, though he had valiantly tried for many long years.

        He collapsed on the settee, lay back and stared at the ceiling. And what of his elfin allegiance? What of the fact that he had pledged his loyalty to King Sylvain and the elfin crown? How did one go about changing that allegiance? Did he really want to? Or had he already done so when he had accepted his Merian title? Gods! Why did everything have to be so complicated?

        "Papay!" A sweet, little voice reached him and he sat up with a smile. His five-year-old daughter, Velouette, took the last stair, wriggled free of her mother's hand and raced to the settee. Pepin swept her up in a hug and showered her with kisses, until she was giggling happily.

        "How did it go?" Nila asked, approaching him.

        Pepin looked up at the black elfin beauty. "Not well. Papay was furious. He forbade me to go to Mere Odain."

        Nila sat down beside him and handed Velouette a silver plated brush. The little girl squealed with delight and immediately stood behind Pepin to brush at his dark shoulder length curls.

        "Did you tell him about El'leigh's orders?" Nila asked.

        "No." Pepin winced as Velouette caught a snarl and yanked it free. "The way he went off, I didn't dare. I'll just have to wait until he gets back from Dalziel. Hopefully, I'll be back before then anyway."

        Nila took his hand and kissed it. "I wish you weren't going at all," she murmured.

        Pepin gave a small smile, looking into her blue eyes. "So do I, Nila, but if I'm going to be the DragonMaster, I need to be with my dragons."

        "I know," Nila replied quietly.

        Pepin kissed her gently. "I wish Papay understood as well as you do."

        Nila smiled wryly. "I don't know that I do understand, Pepin. I only know what makes you happy. Being with your dragons makes you happy. Doing what was born into you makes you happy. Being DragonMaster of Mere Odain makes you happy. I know it, but I don't really understand it."

        Pepin chuckled and drew her into his arms. He laid one hand on her belly. "Just as I know there's a child here, though I don't understand the miracle of its growth. Some things just are, Nila. Maybe they can't be explained. Maybe if we explain them, we take away their mysterious beauty."

        Nila smiled. "You should have been a bard, Pepin."

        He chuckled grimly. "My life surely would have been less complicated if I had. Ouch!" He cringed, then reached back and snagged Velouette, hauling her onto his lap. "Leave some hair there, you," he teased. "What are you still doing awake anyway, miss?" He tickled her gently.

        She giggled and flopped backward onto Nila's lap, then turned her head and kissed Nila's protruding stomach. "Sister," she said.

        Nila laughed. "Now there's a mystery for you. She takes turns referring to the baby as sister or brother."

        "So? She's guessing."

        "No, no. I mean, she never makes a mistake. It's always sister, then brother, then sister and so forth. I've been writing it down out of curiosity. She hasn't made a mistake since I started keeping track. How does she do that?"

        Pepin shrugged. "Maybe it's twins. After all, my mother was a twin."

        "Don't remind me," Nila said with a shudder. "Your mother's twin could have easily substantiated Winze's belief in the demon twin. Come on, Velouette, it's time for bed. Are you coming up, Pepin?"

        "In a bit."

        "Don't be long," Nila said, scooping Velouette into her arms. "I'm sure to have nightmares now." She kissed him lightly and went up the stairs to the bedroom.

        Pepin sighed. He needed to talk to Treyas.

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