“Kull has already failed his people once by not accepting the elven princess. When the time comes again, I will expect him to not make the same mistake twice.”
“Your concern is noted,” I answered, “although I’m sure you misunderstand my relationship with your son. He has never expressed any interest in marriage. I am merely a passing infatuation.” I prayed I wasn’t. I begged and pleaded with the Almighty above that I wasn’t an infatuation.
The king shook his head. “Then you do not know my son. And you do not understand our customs. Marriage is considered sacred, sanctioned by the gods, a union that cannot be broken. Intimacy is more than a physical act to satisfy one’s needs. It is an act of creation, a fabric that binds life and death together. Kull knows our ways. He knows our traditions. Soon, he will realize his true purpose in life, and I am afraid you cannot be a part of it.”
My heart gave a painful thump. I’d had an idea this was coming, but it still hurt to hear. “I see,” I answered quietly.
“Do you?”
I looked him in the eyes. Unlike Kull, his countenance exuded a sense of cold calculation. I wondered if that’s what Kull would look like someday. Cold, devoid of cheer, more concerned for his country than for the wellbeing of his own kin. But was I really so low in status to him? Surely he could be reasoned with.
“I understand,” I said, “that you see me as someone inconsequential, although I am the daughter of the head magistrate and the sky king’s ward.”
He set his jaw. “And the child of an Earthlander. Don’t you realize that I know of your ancestry?”
“That’s the reason?” I asked. “Because I’m the child of an Earthlander?”
“No,” he answered, “it is not the only reason. I know of the oath you swore to my son. I was there when you made it. He agreed to accompany you to the goblin lands at great peril to his own life in exchange for an Earth talisman, yet you broke your oath. I realize you do not understand our ways. My son may be blinded to your blunder, but a broken oath is something I cannot forgive. I am sorry, but even if you are merely—as you say—a passing infatuation, that changes nothing. Kull’s responsibilities are to his duties, and he does not need you as a distraction. You cannot be with my son. My word is final.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. First, Kull was engaged to the elven princess, and now his father had forbidden us from being together. The situation was almost laughable. I would have laughed, too, had I not been on the verge of tears.
Instead, I swallowed back my pain and squared my shoulders. “And what if I refuse to part with him?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed. “Our laws are quite clear on this matter. If Kull chooses you over his homeland, then he will no longer be the heir to my throne. Kull will be exiled. He will no longer be welcomed at Danegeld, and he will never be allowed to see his family again.”
I stared, shocked. Perhaps Kull wouldn’t mind losing his seat on the throne, but he would never in a million years be capable of parting with his family. With the threat of never seeing his family again hanging over his head, I would never ask Kull to choose me.
Chapter 17
I wandered into a wooded area behind the inn, my hands fisted, my breathing uneven. Somehow, I had to come to terms with King Herrick’s wishes. Somehow, I had to let Kull go.
I wouldn’t. I couldn’t let him go. There had to be a way for us to be together. Perhaps Kull could shirk his duties as prince and we could escape to Earth. He could become a regular guy. Maybe he could get a job as a trucker or something. Yes, or a pro wrestler, or a linebacker. There had to be something he could do.
My thoughts weren’t right. I’d have to accept my fate at some point or another. Kull was meant for bigger and better things, and I couldn’t be a part of them. I’d known it from the beginning. King Herrick’s words shouldn’t have given me such a shock.
As I climbed a hill, the forest was quiet, with only the faint sound of squeaking wagon wheels echoing from the town below. I stopped under a leafless tree with broad, gracefully curving branches. The moonlight descended through its skeletal limbs, painting patches of light on the forest’s leaf-strewn floor. The evening’s chill seeped through my thin sweater.
The sound of footsteps came from behind me, and I spun around to face Kull, who carried an extra cloak. He didn’t speak as he handed it to me. I gratefully put it on, though the fur-lined robe did nothing to melt the chill in my heart. I was thankful for the darkness. Otherwise, Kull might have seen the tears misting my eyes. He must have seen them anyway, though, because he hugged me to him fiercely.
His arms were so warm and comforting, and with my face pressed to his chest, I listened quietly to the steady sound of his breathing. The lump in my throat made it impossible for me to speak. I couldn’t let him go. I refused.
He kissed my hair. “We’ll find a way.”
“How?” I managed to say. My hands were quivering, so I pressed them to his chest, but it did no good. Why couldn’t I stop shaking?
He took my fingers in his. His hands dwarfed mine. I’d never felt skin so warm and, though callused, so tender. The moonlight made his usually intense gaze seem more piercing, catching me off guard.
“How?” I repeated quietly.
“We’ll think of something.”
I knew he was trying to make me feel better. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe I
