Page 7 of The Pastel Prince

“I am,” he teased, flashing me a smile filled with white teeth. “I imagine you were looking for a wizened old crone or some ancient, stooped graybeard?”

“I…yes, forgive me, but you are not at all…” My eyes roamed over him greedily. His thick cock twitched. My facegrew hot. I moved back a step as he folded strong arms over his chest, his eyes soft now, gentle as I fumbled to speak. “I am…apologies, Elder Dreyath.”

My eyes fell to the rocky shore of the lake out of respect for his station and to aid me in trying to gather my scattered wits.

“Please, my name is Beirach. I ask you to use that instead of some title I long ago left behind.”

“I…of course. Beirach.” His name felt like warm honey on my tongue. “I have arrived.”

“So I see,” he replied before bending to pluck a basket filled with berries from a rock to my left that I had not seen. How could I have? My entire being had been centered on the archdruid from the moment he had risen from the lake. “Umeris informed me of the situation in a missive. I’m not sure it is me that he should be seeking out as it has been many years since I was called upon in any capacity other than dusting the temple and scolding the ground squirrels that like to steal my morning bread.” I felt lightheaded when he took the lead back to the temple. His ass was firm, high, and flexed with each step. “Let me dress and gather my satchels, then we may set off. The sooner we reach your bosk, the sooner we may find a way to aid any who may be afflicted.”

I fell in behind him, working at calming the raging lust addling my thoughts.

“So Umeris told you of the sickness,” I said aloud while Nin circled over us.

“He did as did some of his highest alchemists. We are all in agreement that what we are looking at may be something far more nefarious.”

That brought me up short. “You feel this was done on purpose?”

He nodded, his bare feet carrying him into the temple as he scattered the berries to the ground. Small field mice,chipmunks, and gray-speckled sparrows arrived within a heartbeat. My eyes moved from the woodland visitors to Beirach, who was bending over to place the basket under his desk. I spun to stare at the elk fountain. My cock thickened even more.

“It bears the marks of a necromantic spell.”

My blood ran cold. “But why would a dark mage strike out at druids?”

“That is what we will find out.” His tone had lost the playfulness it previously had. I stared at a clump of butterflies, a dozen or so at least, fluttering into the shaded interior to light on the sides of the fountain to drink. Fine mist rose into slim sunbeams. “Perhaps we are overreacting. I do not wish for you to imagine things to be worse than they may be for your people.”

“No, of course not,” I whispered in reply, my throat thick with worry. Necromancy. Magicks of the dead. A form of study that all children of the woods were forbidden to take up for it went against the very nature of things. Creatures died, they fell, they rotted, and became one with the soil. Higher souls, such as elves, joined Danubia and were placed back into vessels of fur, fin, feather, or fauna. Some were picked to venture back into the woodlands as newborn elves. This was the way of Danubia. Those who used magicks to raise the dead or bring about blights that destroyed the goddess’s offspring were considered evil to the extreme.

A hand fell to my shoulder, large, strong, settling. I glanced back to see Beirach behind me, unease on his face.

“I did not mean to worry you overly. I am sorry. I tend to speak my mind when I should practice discretion. That is what comes from living alone for so long.”

I worked up a smile that seemed to lift the distress from his eyes. Eyes that had fine lines of age that appealed to me greatly.

“I am too sensitive,” I answered, his hand giving my shoulder a soft squeeze before disappearing. “I feel things strongly.”

“I sensed that about you. You project great emotions. That is not a thing to feel shame over, Kenton. Empathy connects us to others in ways that mere speech cannot at times.”

I nodded silently, watching as he pulled on armor crafted from dark wood. A chest plate, pauldrons, greaves, and matching bracers over trousers and a woolen shirt. His boots were supple green leather with sturdy soles. He gathered an old staff from the corner, one bound in vines and strands of leather with a thick elk antler resting on its top. The antler pulsed with a latent power that felt much like a heartbeat. The rhythm had a familiar chord to it that tugged at a long-buried memory, but I could not place where or when I had heard that steady pulse. Perhaps the remembrance was staying hidden due to the wash of lust soaking my brain.

He was magnificent. I stood in awe, my eyes moving over him several times while he gathered up two cloth sacks that clinked when he slung them over his shoulder. His hair was damp still as it fell down his back to his backside. He talked amiably as he packed.

“I hope you have some healing skills. Mine are low grade as I spent a goodly amount of my time learning to shape myself into the elk spirit.”

“I have some basic spells, yes, and I can craft potions from items found in the woods. Danubia provides for her children.”

“That she does.” His smile made my heart beat oddly. “Let me gather my ride and we will go,” he said, then tipped his head to the side. “We will arrive in time, Kenton.” I bobbed my head, grateful for his kindness. “Come, let us ride. We have many rough miles to go to find your village.”

We moved outside, around the temple, where a small but sturdy shelter stood back among some weathered spruce. A large brown gelding awaited us, fully saddled.

I stood back as he secured his belongings into saddlebags. The flash of sun off a delicate gold flute caught my eye before it disappeared into the bag.

“I assumed you would travel in your animal form,” I said and got a lovely smile as he ran a hand down the horse’s long neck. His gaze found mine.

“While I can run faster than Methril for short distances, he surpasses me in distance journeys. Someday I shall let you ride me through the woods if you wish to be exhilarated.”

My mouth turned dry as parchment. Did the man know that his words could be taken in a sensual context? Surely not. He was an archdruid. Granted, a young one, but an archdruid of considerable standing. Those in Renedith knew of him, so no, he had simply made an offhanded comment. My mind was still awash in lust, that was all.

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