Queen Yavara: Chapter 3

Chapter Three

ELENA

I kneeled in the great hall of Castle Bentius, King and Queen Tiadoa staring down at me from their white thrones. Princess Leveria Tiadoa sat at a lower throne next her father, not even trying to mask her contempt. I suspected she was quite glad of Yavara’s disappearance. Were it not for my ranger training, I might’ve jumped the bitch.

“You may rise, Ranger Straltaira.” King Clartias Tiadoa spoke.

I stood up and looked up at the king of the Highlands.

“Do you know why you have been summoned?” Queen Tiadoa inquired, her beautiful pale face even more pallid with worry.

“Princess Yavara did not report to Castle Thorum.” I nodded, “It is feared that she has been lost to the Great Forest.”

“Despite your youth, Head-ranger Adarian says you are the best tracker he has. He told me that if you cannot find my daughter, then she simply cannot be found.” King Tiadoa said.

“If Head-ranger Adarian says it is so, then I believe it to be so.” I nodded. There was no question that I was the best tracker in the rangers, but modesty before royalty was expected. Even so, it was hard for me to retain my composure. Yavara was out there, and every second I wasted on useless ceremony drove her further away.

“Father,” Leveria’s snide voice cut through, “Elena might be a fantastic ranger, but don’t you think she’s too close to this case? Her relationship might cloud her judgment.”

“I can assure you, Your Highness, that my friendship with Yavara will only strengthen my resolve.” I glowered at her from the tops of my eyes.

“Friendship?” Leveria scoffed, “Come now, Elena. Everyone knows you’re a dyke with a nose for royal cunt. If it was-”

“Shut your mouth!” Queen Tiadoa snapped.

“Actually, I suppose a muff-hound like Miss Straltaira is perfect for the task.” Leveria said airily, ignoring her mother’s wrath. She grinned at me, “Though I’m afraid Yavara’s scent may now be tainted with a few dozen or so orcs.”

“ENOUGH!” King Tiadoa bellowed, and Leveria retreated into her chair. The king turned his attention back to me. “You were Yavara’s best friend for as long as I can remember. My wife often thought you were a corrupting influence on the girl, always wanting to go on adventures instead of going to school.” Tiadoa’s face relaxed into kindly lines, “Despite Leveria’s protests, I think that your connection will not blind you from the task at hand; it will in fact, empower you to try harder. I can provide you with a hundred of my best men, and all the resources of the kingdom.”

“I work best alone, Your Highness. The Great Forest only yields her secrets when you’re quiet.” I responded. Leveria scoffed at me, but King Tiadoa just nodded.

“Find her.”

YAVARA

I gasped as the last throes of my orgasm subsided. The light behind Alkandi’s eyes faded, and she collapsed on top of me, a small pool of blood forming on my stomach from her nostrils.

“Alkandi!” I cried. She didn’t respond. Brock pulled Alkandi and I off him, and ran from the tent without looking back.

“Where are you going?!” I screamed.

“I need to get something to reduce the swelling in his brain or she’ll die!” Brocks voice grew distant as he ran into the forest.

I cradled Alkandi in my arms and ran my fingers through her hair. Her breathing was laborious, every intake causing a gurgled moan to rise from her chest. I rocked back and forth, feeling horribly useless. Her body shook violently, and a squirt of blood shot from her mouth.

“Stay with me!” I whispered urgently. I grabbed a chunk of her black hair and looked into her eyes. They were lifeless and dim, the orange irises faded and rolled into her skull. I placed a finger on her neck, searching for a pulse. There was the hint of it beating through her artery, but it was dim and irregular. It grew fainter with each passing moment until I couldn’t feel it at all. Her pained breathing slowed to a crawl, and with a final gasp, it stopped.

I killed her. I didn’t accept her, and now she’s gone. Even now, I could feel the emptiness within me, a part of me I hadn’t even known was there, now screaming its existence by its absence.

“I’m sorry, Alkandi.” I sniffed as my tears splashed on her lifeless face. “I’m so sorry.”

A single heartbeat drummed against my finger. Another heartbeat sounded. And then another. Alkandi started to breathe again, her chest rising, labored rasps sounding from her mouth. I jolted up in shock as Alkandi’s eyes rolled forward. They were no longer orange, but white irises with white pupils; Zander’s eyes. Alkandi’s straight black hair receded into her head and changed texture, her body sank down on me as her breasts shrunk beneath her, her bronze skin paled, and a thick beard grew on her cheeks. Zander coughed life back into his lungs and pushed himself off the ground. I stared in disbelief at the wizard, who no more than a minute ago was in the shape of Alkandi, and dead in my arms. He wiped the blood from his mouth and looked back at me. His expression changed to one of unbridled joy.

“I can’t believe that fucking worked!” He cried elatedly.

“What worked?! Where is Alk-” I never finished that sentence. Something stirred within me, a feeling in my guts, a burning. My heart began to beat rapidly, pounding fiercely against my sternum. I looked down at my chest and gasped in horror. An orange glow radiated from my visible heart, shining through my skin. I could see every muscle and vein from the point of illumination, my flesh naught but paper against the sun within. My legs began to shake, a tremor that rose within me until my whole body was convulsing. Zander picked me off the ground and held me tightly in his arms.

“What’s happening to me?!” I cried in terror.

“Your transformation has begun! You have accepted Alkandi into your soul, and now the two of you are reuniting!”

“It hurts!” I screamed. My insides churned, every inch of me feeling like it was burning. My heartbeat drummed loudly in my ears, its accelerating gallop sounding in my ears, pulsing against my temples. Pure panic washed over me. I kicked and thrashed like a caught animal, raging in Zanders arms.

“It will only last a minute. Stay with me.” Zander’s reassuring voice sounded as though he was yelling to me from some distant mountain top. I dug my fingers into his back as a splitting pain shot through my head. Zander held me tightly, whispering words of encouragement into my ear, but they were nonsense through the filter of my terror. Flashing memories raced behind my eyes. The day I shot my first arrow, the day I learned to ride a horse, my mother’s loving face looking down at me, my toddler hands playing with a raddle, my baby feet kicking a blanket off me as I lay in a crib. Memories that were not my own began to enter my mind. I am a young high-elf riding a horse, I am a young high-elf learning to paint, I am a young dark-elf being tortured by high-elves. They put the screws into my hands and feet, burn the iron into my most intimate places, work the knife beneath the flesh. Pain, such pain. The memories grew darker. So many iterations of Alkandi that had died so young, and so horrifically, staring wide-eyed up at masked men with no mercy.