The Prince of Aragon

CHAPTER FIVE: THE SORCERESS

Sorceresses were mythical creatures known for their evilness and deviousness. It was said that not many of them remained in the human realm as the witch hunters had gotten most of them. The remaining ones were either in hiding or so powerful that no human could harm them.

Amara was the former one, she resided in a cave, which hadn’t been easy to find, and Prince Novak could only hope that she hadn’t changed her hiding place. The first time he’d laid eyes upon her had blown his breath away. He’d always had the prejudice that witches were ugly old hags with their meanness visible on their faces.

In complete dichotomy to his bias, the witch had been the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen – some said that the beauty was a mirage, that she used magic to maintain that ethereal appearance. Novak had been captivated despite himself.

The first time he’d visited Amara, he’d been accompanied by his three partners, but this time he’d preferred a solo visit. He wasn’t very willing for the others to witness his fascination for the woman – it would be a sign of weakness. And maybe hoping against all odds that the second meeting might not leave that great an impression on him.

Even in the darkness, he could sense her presence, relief seeping through him when he reckoned that she was still there. A part of him had feared that she would have long disappeared after revealing her hideout to four humans – her mortal enemy.

“Prince Novak, what brings you?” her soft voice loomed in the dark from behind him, and he veered towards her, steeling his heart against another onslaught of his emotions. Her hair was as luscious as he remembered, long and loose with the moonlight playing with the fiery strands like bonny sea waves.

There was a softness to her appearance, a kind of warmth mingled with surprise as she seemed to realize that he was alone.

He didn’t even flinch at the disclosure of his identity, so that little minx knew about his real origin. He wasn’t even surprised

“No army today?”

She glided towards him with her usual grace, giving the impression that she was floating in the air, and that was an eerie illusion.

“No, I come alone,” he responded with much effort, his eyes never leaving that flawless face, skin glowing without any imperfection which made him want to touch them merely to test the softness that it promised.

Her long gown covered her body, but he was certain that underneath that hideous dress, he would find a delectable body, and he squelched down his forbidden thoughts to focus on the matter at hand. Any sign of weakness was not permissible in his quest.

“I stabbed the Emperor the other night. Like you said,” he announced boldly to her, eyes roaming over her with undisguised male appreciation. “Except it didn’t work,” he informed curtly.

Cocking her head sideways, the action causing her long hair to flow like a bubbling cascade at her shoulders, she bestowed upon him an indulging look with her honey topaz eyes sparkling in the dark. “What exactly didn’t work, my Prince?”

“You said ‘The sword will call upon you as soon as you hold it, compelling you to kill in order to drain lives from your enemies’! It didn’t happen this way. I have now one hundred and twenty-six lives remaining – I don’t think that Aldo Salvatore had only sixty lives considering the number of murders he’d committed.”

“Sixty, you said?” she repeated pensively with a calmness that enraged the Prince further. How could she keep her calm when things were so haywire for him? Novak had the distinct impression that she was toying with him.

With an abrupt gesture, she shredded that old cloak which covered her body, and Novak gasped at the beautiful tight dress that clung to her small figure suggesting curves in the right places.

The green of the dress was dark like the color of moth, indistinguishable in the dark, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Her breasts were protruding under the tight cleavage, like two creamy mounds of appetizing flesh, and he lost focus on everything else. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he fantasized taking that soft flesh in his mouth and tasting her. He felt himself reacting to her despite his misgivings.

“How many years did you have before you stab him?” she queried, and it took him a while to hear the question. When the fog of desire cleared some, he met her eyes – mocking and glittering topaz one which reminded him of a vampire about to quench his bloodlust. Again, that hankering craving gripped him.

“Huh?” he asked dumbfounded for a moment.

She smiled then and floated towards what looked like a stall where she kept her potions and magical books. Novak watched as she lighted two flame torches and beckoned him to come closer. He was unwilling.

He belatedly realized that the woman was as dangerous as they had warned him, and he should have brought Isla along for some protection. As a barrier between him and that enchantress.

“Come, now Prince. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

His male ego took a dent, and he scoffed sarcastically. “Scared? No, definitely not scared,” he drawled back, trying to get back his bearings. All he wanted to do was rip that piece of cloth and plunge himself into her sweet moisture to find some solace.

“Then, come. So, how many lives did you say you had before stabbing him? It couldn’t have been one hundred and twenty-six.”

“No,” he rasped more harshly than he’d intended, loathing the fact that she was having fun at his expense. “Sixty-three.”

Eyebrows c****d at him in surprise. “So, your remaining years have doubled?”

Novak blinked in shock at her sharp wit – he hadn’t even drawn such a conclusion and he was usually known for his razor-like perspicacious nature. “What does it mean?” he wondered aloud in perplexity, the confusion of the situation enabling him to forget the bewitching woman.

Shrugging her slender shoulders brought his attention back to her, the need to bury his head against that tempting curve was beguiling. Berating himself for his weakness, he deliberately turned away from Amara.

“I don’t know. All I remember my mother saying was that whoever yields the Dà Vita, he will get the remaining lives of the dead person. Like right now, if Emperor Salvatore were to kill you, he will have your one hundred and twenty-six years added to his existing surviving years.”

Words meant to taunt, he was sure, Novak refused to raise to the bait. “Then, how do you explain that I do not have his remaining lives? That he was still sauntering around the castle in the morning?” he queried between gritted teeth, angry with himself for picturing her glowing self when he was not looking.

For the past days, he’d been so focused on his mission that he’d managed to thrust that witch away from his mind. Coming here again was a mistake.

“I don’t know,” she answered in a deceptively calm voice, and Novak resisted the urge to throttle her pretty little neck. She was deliberately goading him – he was sure of that.

Turning towards her, he shrugged making sure that he kept his equanimity like her. Giving reign to either anger or passion was out of question. “Right,” he said caustically. “Then, I have no further business with you Sorceress.”

He was intentionally using her title to remind both himself and her what kind of creature she was. Someone who could not be trusted – someone who considered humans her enemies, and that she would never help him.

Without a backward glance, he practically ran towards the cave’s exit, glad that the torturous meeting between was over before he’s totally lost his self-control.

“On second thoughts…,” she echoed in the dark, letting the sentence hang in suspense, stopping him right in his tracks simply because he had no other choice than to play in her hands.

He waited, with his back to her, determined not to give her an inch but stubborn silence greeted him from behind. It was unfortunate that he needed the information more than his next breath.

Reluctantly, he took his time to face her again, anticipating a gloating expression on her beautiful face, but instead found none. She stared back stoically at him, eyes roaming on his face searching for something. Novak stood his ground unflinching under her searing gaze and gulped when she took a few steps towards him.

“I wasn’t wrong,” she whispered when she arrived only inches away from him, where he could see every detail of her face. There was a till near her lower lips, a mark of beauty which could have easily been implanted by magic. He gulped again.

“About what?” he rasped hoarsely.

“About you,” she answered irrevocably. “Come,” she finally instructed, snapping out of her haze to lead him towards her lair. Prince had no other option than to follow her. “My mother had a book where she kept her spells. I could check if there’s information about the Dà Vita.”

A grimoire? Why hadn’t he thought about that in the first place? Witches were known to keep their spells and charms in thick books to pass on the secrets to their generations. But if he’d skipped that detail, there was no way Amara hadn’t thought about the spell book before.

She was toying with him, like a cat enjoying the chase before devouring its prey. Prince Novak felt the rising anger which he had to tamper down with great difficulty. He refused to allow her to get under his skin anymore.

“Where is it?” he asked roughly, impatience lacing in his question.

“It must be here somewhere,” she answered fumbling through her books, and finally when his patience was wearing thin, she removed a thick dark brown book covered with dust. Novak felt a fleeting moment of confusion for having doubted her. If the book had been untouched, then how was it possible that she was frolicking with him? Maybe, Amara had not thought about the grimoire.

Blowing away the gathered dust, she placed the spell book on her stall, and held a hand to halt him. “Nobody is allowed to see the inside of the book,” she commanded in an autocratic voice which stopped Novak. “I’ll let you know if I find something about Dà Vita.”

Barely able to withstand the tension, Novak held himself back with much difficulty, overwrought with anxiety. What if there was nothing about the magical sword? Would someone be able to defeat that evil monster? Emperor Salvatore was smarter than he’d envisaged – the tyrant must have made an infrangible plan.

“There,” she finally murmured, and Novak tensed. “Approach, my Prince.”

Eager to find out more, he took a few steps in her direction, only stopping when he realized that he was just a few steps from her. Her perfume drifted to his nostrils, and he fought the urge to flinch in awareness. The tension between them sizzled, but he frowned down on the writings pretending that he was unaffected.

He wasn’t able to comprehend a single thing, but he saw a picture of the sword Dà Vita undeniable in its unique design.

“What does it say?” he grounded fiercely.

“Whoever yields the Dà Vita will drain the lives of the dead,” she recited exactly like she’d said previously. “But there’s something else. There is a unica salvezza clause.”

“Unica salvezza.”

“Shhhh. Let me read,” she hushed in an urgent tone, and the Prince of Aragon was properly chastised. Left with nothing to do, he stared down at her bent form, the way her body was twisted over the stall as she perused the page with fierce concentration.

With more curiosity than anything, his face accosted hers slowly to test whether that tangible chemistry he felt between them was mutual or one-sided. When she glanced up, she was taken aback to find him so near, and her pupils dilated instantly at his proximity, the topaz brown turning fiery.

The way her throat worked up and down was very telling and gave him immense gratification to discover that the insane attraction he felt towards her was mutual. The air between them thickened with tension, as they stared at each other hungrily, all pretense about not knowing about the s****l tension dropped.

That close to her, he could observe the rapid beating pulse on the base of her throat, and he found that all he wanted to do was to taste the region there. When he was about to pounce on her, she snapped back to reality, taking a few steps away from him.

Disappointment oozed through him at being denied something that he was yearning for, and he had to grip the end of the table not to pull her back towards him. That was a really bad idea.

“Unica salvezza?” he probed in a deadpan voice like nothing had just transpired between them. Being a warrior, masking his emotions was not hard for him – he’d learned at a very tender age that controlling his feelings was primordial to his survival.

“Unique salvation,” she translated. “That means that Aldo Salvatore must have struck an indemnity deal with my mother. He’s the only one who can yield the sword and drain lives from the persons he kills.”

Dread washed over him, and the moment of weakness he’d just experienced vanished at the unexpected turn of events. Indemnity clause? That meant that only that damned Salvatore could be immortal. How would he be able to kill that bastard then? How would he able to avenge his parent’s deaths?

Without the ability to steal his powers, it would be almost impossible to defeat the Emperor, even if he stole the sword from him now, he was certain that the horrendous warrior must have amassed numerous lives. After all, he had conquered nine kingdoms in the same unscrupulous way he’d usurped the Kingdom of Aragon.

“How do you explain the fact that my lives have doubled then?” he canvassed as that issue was still unresolved for him.

Her bafflement was endearing, and Novak finally convinced himself that there was no artifice in that woman. No one could fake emotions so brilliantly.

“I have no idea. The book doesn’t say anything else except how the spell has been casted upon the sword and how the magic had been engrained. The book isn’t to give details how to defeat the magic but instead it’s just a memoire for the younger generations to use.”

“Do you think that if I stab the Emperor one more time, my life will be double again?” the Prince asked with a frown.

“You could try. All I know is that for every spell, there is a prescelto which can defeat the whole magic.”

“Prescelto?” he repeated puzzled as the word meant nothing to him.

“A chosen one. Someone who can break the spell because he has some exceptional abilities.”

That caught his attention. “You mean to say that I am the only one who could defeat him? That I am the only one who can steal the lives from him?”

“Probably. In fact, after checking the grimoire, I’m surprised you managed to steal some lives from him. That is why I am thinking of the prescelto provision. It’s the only explanation which is making sense to me right now.”

“How do I know how many times I have to kill him then? Or if I am even draining lives from him or merely doubling my own number of years?”

At that question, she glanced up at him curiously. “Merely? You think it’s a trivial fact that you’re acquiring so many years? Do you think how many people would kill to acquire that kind power?”

Incensed, Prince Novak grabbed her hair at the back of her head as rage seeped through him at her amoral comment. Did she think that he was a corrupt soul? That he was after the power?

“You think I’m doing all this for the power? You think that living a cursed life for eternity is what I’m looking for? What good will all those lives serve me if I cannot avenge my beloved ones? If I cannot finally achieve some sort of penance for the fact that I watched them die in front of my eyes while I fled the place like a bloody coward?”

He had never spoken a word about his guilt to anyone else. Not to the Sommervilles, not even to Isla. How did that witch managed to extort the avowal from him, he would never find out.

“Release me,” she ordered in her serene voice, and Novak was even more furious with her calm demeanor but loosened his grasp. That touch, although not romantic was burning his hand, and now with the anger dissipating, he felt the skin contact scorch his palm.

Almost in spite of himself, his fingered wove their way into her hair and they felt as silky as he’d fantasized. The smooth texture played into his hand, but she quickly glided away from him in her listless grace, and he mourned the loss of warmth.

“There is only one way for you to find out,” she concluded in a dismissive voice, before disappearing into the dark leaving the prince to stare blindly long moments after she was gone.