Snippet Saturday – King of the Unblessed
“Prologue”
Excerpt from King of the Unblessed by Michelle Pillow
Black Palace of the Unblessed, Kingdom of Valdis, 1406 AD
Immortality had a way of changing fate. None knew this as well as Merrick, dark elfin King of Valdis, ruler of all that was unblessed. Once, long ago in a time he did not like to remember, he’d been heir Prince to the Tegwen throne, future King of the Blessed. Happiness and pleasure had been his, as had love—love of a family, of his people. He’d been light and good. Now he was ruler of all that was dark and feared.
Well, not all that was dark. King Lucien of the Damned did have rule over the demons.
As Merrick gazed upon the narrow basin of water before him, the liquid was still. It reflected his eyes—eyes so brown they looked to be black. When he was angry, the whites would fill in with the dark color. Those who saw the change often claimed to see the demon lurking beneath his surface. His eyes were a strange contrast to his long blond hair. They were a reflection of what he’d become, changed the day of his Unblessed Coronation. The hair was a reminder of what he’d once been.
The divining basin was perched atop a tall column, which in turn was lifted up on a platform in the center of the dark garden. It had been a gift from King Lucien upon Merrick’s coronation. His powers were somewhat connected to the Demon King, even though his coronation had been the first and last time he’d spoken directly with the man. The gray stone base was carved with images of demons sucking the souls from mortals. Within the shallow pool, the moonlight reflected on water to reveal to him all he would see, always the present, but sometimes the future and past. King Merrick didn’t look to the future, for the images were blurred and often misread, and he refused to dwell on the past.
Silver moonlight shone over the expansive black garden. The plants were withered and neglected, and yet did not die. Dark stone paths led up from his castle palace, twisting about the grounds in a seemingly endless pattern. They were surrounded by thick walls covered in vines. The walls formed a labyrinth from which trespassers could never escape. Thorns, as sharp as blades, edged the vines. Amongst the thorns, crimson flowers blossomed, but they only did so for him. The flowers looked almost liquid, as if the petals would drip like blood to the ground. They were the only flowers in the immortal realm that would bloom when he was near.
Repeatedly, Merrick watched his presence suck the life from the world around him. He was necessary, as necessary as light and spring. He was fall, winter, death to the land. Without him, the immortal world would not rest. Without him, good would not be. And for this he was hated by those he’d once called friends.
“Show me that which I seek,” Merrick ordered the water softly. He tapped a finger against the surface, rippling it. He knew what was to come. It tortured him as it soothed him. It filled him with longing and frustration. From the frustration came anger, and from the anger a bitterness he didn’t try to hide.
Then there she was, sitting and staring at a fire, a look of longing in her eyes. He later discovered that she did that often. The human woman captured his notice one night as he flew around the mortal realm masquerading as a falcon. Unless magick favored it, which wasn’t often, the falcon disguise was the only way he could go to the mortal realm in solid form for long periods of time. Otherwise he could only project a glamour of himself or send his minions in his place.
Merrick didn’t think, had just watched her like he would a play. He loved her, or at least thought he could love her, as much as any being with a dark heart could love. Love was not so lofty an emotion and was wrongly thought exclusive to the blessed. However, as with all things, the emotion was more complicated than that, for love could be as dark as the underworld, as enslaving as death, as vengeful as a righteous cause. Beings killed in the name of love, died for it, lusted after it, greedily kept it locked away, withheld it, exploited it. This was not an emotion the King of the Unblessed sought to possess.
“I, Lady Juliana of Bellemare,” she’d said that first evening he saw her, “have come here to slay your village dragon in return for my weight in gold.”
Her voice had been low and soft, like a lullaby, but such voices he’d heard many times before her. Nymphs had been brought to his castle to sing and they were renowned for the sounds they made. Right away, he knew she spoke only to herself, imagining a world beyond that with which she was acquainted with. Dragons didn’t exist in her world. Then again, he didn’t exist in her world. Immortals preferred to keep the humans unaware, for they were uninteresting creatures who lacked power and magic. Mortals were ruled by fear and ignorance and King Merrick was amused to watch where that ignorance would lead them. But Lady Juliana was different than other mortal women, for she’d captured his notice. That alone marked her as special.
Why it should be so, he didn’t understand. She was beautiful with long dark hair and wide blue eyes, but Merrick had seen too much of beauty to be swayed easily by it. For if beauty could conquer him, then just the sight of the Golden Palace at Tegwen would have done him in long ago.
No, there was no reason for it. All he knew is that night after night he was drawn to the garden basin to watch her. At first he’d hoped to find fault with her, thus losing interest. But the more he watched, the more he longed for her, wanted her, until she entered his thoughts when he was away from the garden.
Merrick knew obsession only led to madness. The creatures of Valdis wouldn’t be pleased with an obsessed king, not when they struggled constantly with Tegwen, and with each other. There were many who wanted his throne. Only death would relinquish him of it and no matter how he tired of life, he didn’t wish for death.
The water rippled over the vision. Juliana stood, stretching her arms above her head. Though fine by human standards, her russet gown was woolen and plain. The long trailing sleeves touched the floor, sweeping up over her elbows. The bodice was high and the skirts hung loose, hiding her figure beneath the padded underskirts. She didn’t cover her dark locks, but let them hang freely to her waist.
Merrick frowned. There was only one option left to him. He’d go to her and offer her a choice. Either she would come with him until he tired of her or he would have her killed. If he possessed her, had her locked away in his castle, then he wouldn’t be so obsessed. Lady Juliana would be under his complete control. If she chose death, then he’d no longer be able to gaze upon her face, unless it was to see it rotting in the ground. The spell would be broken and he would be free of her.
Merrick watched her for a moment longer, then waved his hand over the basin. Her image disappeared. He stared at the water a moment longer, contemplating his decision. It was for the best. He did not like the distraction she caused him.
Soon. He would offer his bargain to her soon. Death or enslavement. Balling his hand into a fist, Merrick really hoped she chose death.
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