Prologue
Orris fluttered over his master in
concern, his little blue wings shedding gold pixie dust over the bed where the
Earl lay. He turned slightly to face the elf prince that sat next to his
nephew, the same concern lacing his fine features that lay in Orris' small
face. "He is going to be all right, is he not, Your Highness?" the
pixie asked anxiously.
"I do not know," Prince
Tristan said with a sigh. "That vampire's bite was deep. We have done all
we can, but I fear that the leg will always be weak even if he does survive the
poison."
"But his lordship is strong; he
will survive," Orris said with a determined look on his small face.
"I certainly hope so. I just
lost two of my favorite brothers-in-law, I do not want to lose my favorite
nephew as well," Tristan said with another sigh. "Not my best friend."
The tent flap opened briefly,
"Is he awake?" a voice asked softly.
Tristan turned in surprise to see
Aine, the Queen of Summer, standing on the threshold of the room. "Uh, no.
He is still trying to fight off the poison," he managed after a moment.
"Here," she said,
thrusting a goblet filled with some kind of warm, red, liquid in it.
"According to Khione that will help him."
Tristan lifted the goblet to his
nose and sniffed. His senses were not as keen as his nephew's, but he instantly
recognized the metallic smell of blood.
He looked to the queen in surprise.
"Khione said it would help," Aine replied. "If you do not feed
it to him, I will."
She stood and watched as he held
Duncan's nose so he was forced to open his mouth and poured the liquid down his
throat. The high prince then watched as the Queen of Summer exited the tent as
softly as she came. He knew that as long as he lived, he would wonder what this
day was all about.
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