Culling of the Blood

Chapter 10-Unwritten and Unbroken

 Quadir slowly staggered through the palace hallway toward his room in the annex beside the palace library. His excursion into the underground warrens beneath the village of Edylweske had left his clothes stinking of soot. The fine, blackened particles were smeared across his face and hands, coating the inside of his nostrils. Even the scarf that Adiadithiel had given him was coated with an oily film and ash.

Deeply unsettled by the culling with the spider, he momentarily closed his eyes. In his exhausted state, the spacious corridors blurred, reminding him of the earthen tunnels shrouded in darkness and cobwebs. Though his mind rebelled against the delusion, he felt strangely comfortable in the damp, cool network of the spider's lair.

He considered returning to his private chambers to wash away the unpleasantness of the last few hours and to rest, but felt compelled to report the incident to Selestryel. As the weary Dakaari approached the archmage's study, he heard hushed, angry voices coming from within the chamber.

"Is it because he's Human?" Adiadithiel asked. "Why else would my father refuse?"

"That's not fair," Selestryel replied, "nor accurate. Your father is under a lot of pressure. These are his final days as king of Kär Roanwolde. He must consider his legacy—"

Quadir walked in on them, spreading his arms to the side as they fell silent. "By all means, don't stop on my account. You're only talking about me. In my absence."

"King Kaj'ryk has refused your request for the Ceremony of Dŵnyr," the archmage said, hiding his hands in the long sleeves of his robe.

"But why?" Adiadithiel asked. "You promised me you would convince him."

"You know why, Adiadithiel!" Selestryel countered, raising his voice.

"But I don't," Quadir said, "so enlightened me."

"I know you're disappointed, Quadir. What you have done for this kingdom goes beyond merit."

"Don't patronize me, Selestryel." Hands on his hips, Quadir paced the room. "It's like being in foster care all over again. They welcome you into the house, give you a place to stay, feed you, but you never really, truly belong." Quadir glared at him, his chin quivering in anger. "Dakaari are a human blight. Heard that one today. Right after I saved a little girl from a giant spider. Right after I helped clean out the tunnels beneath the village, burning hundreds of eggs before they could hatch and poison, possibly kill, more children."

Selestryel straightened his long, willowy frame, seeming even taller in the growing shadows of dusk. "I advised King Kaj'ryk to deny your request."

Betrayed by those words, Quadir staggered back a step. "Why?" he demanded. "I thought you approved—"

"It was to spare you, both of you, and the king any embarrassment when nothing happened during the ceremony."

Breathing unevenly through his teeth, Quadir bowed his head and leaned against a built-in bookshelf for support. "Embarrassment? You don't know what would have happened. You're just afraid, like the rest of them."

"No, I'm just very observant, which you are not, Quadir Janszoon. Nothing would have happened during the Ceremony of Dŵnyr because the ceremony has already been successfully performed." The archmage stared down his long nose at Quadir. "I'm shocked you have not noticed that the medallion in your sword is already locked."

Quadir drew the blade from its scabbard and jammed his thumb into the ring at the end of the pommel. His nail caught on the edge of the fixed medallion, and he flinched in pain, hissing under his breath. Biting his thumbnail to relieve the pain, he stared at the sword. "How is that possible? A mage has to perform the rite. I don't remember—" He fell silent for a moment. "Bound in the Blood, unwritten and unbroken."

"The words of binding for the Ceremony of Dŵnyr," Selestryel said. "A mage did perform the ceremony. A certain wild mage known for her lack of discipline."

"That night at the lake?" He recalled the whistle of the spinning medallion and the spark that ignited in the darkness when it locked. Quadir slowly turned to face Adiadithiel. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she wrung her hands anxiously in her skirt, but before he could speak, she darted into the corridor. Sheathing the sword, he chased her.

Though she was swift and agile on her feet, Quadir felt as if he could run a marathon in under an hour. He caught her by the wrist and pushed her through the door of his room before the guards could take notice of the disturbance. Forcing her against the wall, he stared at her, speechless, his chest tight with emotion.

"You knew all this time?"

"Forgive my foolishness, Quadir. I never meant to hurt you. Impetuous whim overtook reason. This is why I am censured for being a wild mage. Acting before thinking." Adiadithiel tried to turn away, but Quadir would not let her move, even as she pleaded with her tearful eyes. "I am Elven and could never hope to have a Dakaar'I. In spite of my magic. Dakaar'I have always been Human, and have always served Human masters. I didn't believe the ceremony would actually work."

Quadir felt sick to his stomach. "Why try then? If you thought it might fail."

Adiadithiel smiled sadly, tears running from her eyes. "You never asked me what Njemile whispered in my ear that night we reunited her with her family." She reached out with her finger and traced the line of his taut jaw. "There are no rules for the sand castles we build in our dreams or in our hearts. You were my sand castle, Quadir. That's what she told me."

Quadir hovered over her, his face so close to hers that he could feel the warmth of her breath. "What if Selestryel finds a way for me to go home?"

Gazing up at him, lips trembling, she replied, "Then I would weep a lake of tears in which to drown myself and prove the legend of Llyn de Ardrauda to be true."

Taking her hand, Quadir closed his eyes and raised her cold fingers to his mouth to warm them with his breath. The scent of lavender was strong on her skin, dispelling the stench of soot and fire and despair.

So this is what happiness feels like, he thought as the first tears fell from his eyes.

"Bound in the Blood, unwritten and unbroken." Quadir held his lips against her knuckles and kissed each one. "What of your father's throne? Selestryel believes the crown will fall to you. Your people will never accept me—"

"I don't want the throne, especially if it means that I can't be with you."

"Your duty is to your people, Adiadi."

"Duty? Duty killed my mother. Drove her mad in a loveless marriage. The only duty I have is to my heart. My brother can have the throne and all the hardship and tribulation that comes with it."

Quadir kissed her on the lips, sparing none of the passion that he felt for her. Drinking in her every breath, he held her firmly in his arms. She ardently responded with a soft moan and pressed her waist and torso against him. The small of her back arched beneath his hands as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Does this mean you'll be staying?" Adiadithiel asked breathlessly between kisses.

Keeping her locked in his fervent embrace, Quadir ran his hands down the backs of her thighs and picked her up, every muscle burning for her. "Do you really need me to answer that?"

"Yes."

"Here's my answer." Heart racing with desire, he paused only long enough to kick the bedroom door shut, and then carried her to his bed.