Stellan began to feel more secure, but also angrier. Over the years, his clan had mostly left him alone, save for a spy or two. But Alucard’s appearance made him suspect the game had changed. Either they wanted something from him, or they wanted to dispose of him.
He wondered if he should attempt a magickal barrier, but given his lack of training, such a defensive maneuver would be mere child’s play for the likes of his uncle. No, it was best to forget the whole idea. However, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something now threatened his solitary life. If so, this would be a change he both feared and welcomed simultaneously.
The thought prompted him to spur his steed on faster as they traversed the snowy plains. Only he and his animal companions knew the blighted terrain so well they could navigate it without the aid of torch or marker. His thoughts drifted to Lionel’s invitation. It was tempting. If he attended the wedding and spoke with Leopold, perhaps he’d gain entrance to Aldebaran for further exploration. How else would one such as himself obtain an audience with the King? But with the hope of contact came the risk of discovery, of derision, of rejection.
There was one positive note in favor of attending. Nothing would goad Alucard and his father more than him taking up with his virtuous neighbor, especially one whose citizens were so virulent in their blind prejudice against warlocks. Stellan still bristled at the thought, but how could he possibly measure his pride against the potential death of thousands?
Long ago, he had made himself a pledge to protect the Five Lands from Pestilence after learning how easily familial ties could be severed. The pledge tortured him because it went against everything he had been taught as a child–for he had not been taught to care.
Yet somehow he did. Stellan was sure that path would lead to his undoing, but neither could he stop from taking it.
Well, he thought. There it is, then… The answer. Stellan wasted no time upon his return to Vandeborg. After stabling his horse for a hard-earned rest, he sought out the one person in his kingdom who possessed the knowledge to help him succeed in his new mission. Finding his scullery maid at work by the kitchen hearth, he strode up to her with a newfound urgency.
“Teach me how to dance,” Stellan commanded.
Chapter 5
The sun’s rays warmed Stellan’s face as he regarded the festooned entrance of Aldebaran’s royal castle. Why, then, did he feel so cold? The answer came swiftly. Even though his intention was to help, it was unlikely the King and his people would agree.
Stellan slumped in his saddle. He had originally planned to enter the castle as unassuming as possible, but now the notion seemed unrealistic. There were guests everywhere. Even the youngest among them would instantly recognize him as an outsider. No doubt his arrival would spark the stern looks and bitter whispers for which he had, regrettably, grown accustomed.
Beneath him, his horse pawed the earth uneasily. Even the animal sensed his agitation. Stellan patted the stallion’s strong neck. You and me both, friend. You and me both.
It was now or never. Stellan urged his horse onward. The sounds of music and laughter filled his ears as he passed through the open gate. He marveled at the total contrast between this scene and his usual cold, desolate surroundings.
Freshly picked lavender flowers lined the nearby Maypole as laughing children skirted to and fro. They sang songs unfamiliar to Stellan’s ears, for these were tunes of family and mirth. Roasted duck, vegetables and fruit of all sorts flowed over mile-long tables adorned with silken cloth; minstrels played instruments from far away lands; people dressed in the finest regalia… It all seemed too much to take in at once.
Stellan risked a glance about him as he rode. A spreading sea of disapproval withered the faces of passersby as he calmly slid by them. Their reactions did little to disprove his initial theories about the place. He stopped and dismounted, unsure how to proceed.
“Stellan! Bravo, my good man, you made it!”
He turned around to find Lionel striding toward him. The duke was dressed in colorful, magnificent evening attire befitting his jubilant personality. Stellan braced himself for a comment about his own outfit, a somber sea of ebony from top to bottom, but none came.
Lionel clapped him on the back several times as a wide grin split from ear to ear. “Come with me! I’ll get you some wine, and then there’s a whole gaggle of young ladies in the corner there who anxiously await the tale of how we met. Off with your cloak. The valet will see to it and stable your horse. There we go!”
With a flourish of his arm, Lionel led Stellan into the pre-ceremony soiree. Everything in sight befitted a royal wedding. The great hall was ablaze with bright lights at every turn. Intricately woven garlands of flowers and ribbons stretched overhead from wall to wall. Countless tables overflowed with savory appetizers and wines. Troubadours wandered about playing jaunty tunes, winking and smiling at the guests who mingled about. Stellan followed Lionel dutifully through the maze of bodies. He had never heard so much laughter in his entire life. It put him on edge.
At the far end of the room, he caught a glimpse of the King and Queen. Sparkling crowns and richly embroidered clothing distinguished them both. They were greeting a multitude of guests. Stellan immediately started forward, badly wanting a word alone with His Majesty Leopold, but Lionel grabbed his arm and proceeded to drag him in the opposite direction. Stellan’s mood darkened considerably. This proposed meeting with the King was why he had endured the long journey. This and this alone. Nothing else.
He turned back. But as he stepped toward the King,
