Elesther felt his hands before she saw them. "You look beautiful tonight," Khelar said as he gently brushed Elesther's brunette hair with his fingers. She held his palms to her face, letting their warmth flood over her body. Slowly, Elesther opened her eyes to look at her lover, but Khelar covered them.

“I have a surprise for you, love,” he whispered in her ear. Khelar lifted her gently, carefully cradling her in his free arm before kissing her lightly on the lips. Cautiously, Elesther opened her eyes, Khelar’s warm hands no longer hindering her sight. His diamond white irises met her gentle brown eyes for a moment, causing Khelar to look away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she smiled, taking his hand into her own before resting her head against his shoulder. “If they find you here they will kill you.”

“I would never miss your birthday,” Khelar replied sternly, “especially your twentieth.” He used his free hand to rub her back, letting his hands dance gracefully down her spine. “You’re as old as I am now.”

“I am afraid I don’t know how many more I will be having,” Elesther sighed, her eyes momentarily watering at the thought.

“Don’t say such things,” Khelar spat, releasing her from his embrace. Her high set cheekbones were paler than usual; a telling sign that her sickness was not getting any better. “I promise you will get better, and when you do I will marry you.” Smiling, Elesther ran her hand through his long, raven black hair. A frown crossed her lips, but she said nothing. “Do you not believe that I love you?” he demanded, taking hold of her hand again.

“Oh no, I know you do,” she smiled weakly, “but I know that we will never be married. The doctor gave me three days.”

“The doctor knows nothing!” Khelar shot back, his eyes glittering dangerously at her. His hands let her go, forcing her away.

Elesther crawled on top of her luxurious bed to reach him. “Darling,” she soothed as she reached to touch his face. A winter breeze came from an open window, sending a shiver down Khelar’s spine. “Red is such a nice color for you,” she commented, draping him with her red comforter, “it makes you look like a noble.”

Khelar ignored her and buried his head on her shoulder while hot tears ran down his perfect cheeks. Elesther tried not to look at him in case she started weeping. Instead, Elesther looked around her room, trying to find something that would distract her.

The room itself was extravagant, with heavy drapes and mahogany furniture as the center pieces of her quarters. Her family crest, an eagle with a sword clasped in its talons hung above her bed serving, as a testament to her royal blood. A cheery fire danced in a stone fireplace, lighting the room with an orange glow. A twinkle of light next to her bed caught Elesther’s eye. The fire reflected sharply against Khelar’s sword hilt and his armor that lay in a corner of her room. Not just Khelar, she reminded herself bitterly, Captain Khelar of the King’s first company.

Khelar suddenly let go of her, his eyes widening. “Someone is coming,” he said tersely. Though Elesther didn’t hear a noise, she trusted her lover’s heightened senses.

“Promise me you won’t kill them,” Elesther hissed, her soft eyes pleading with him.

“Ele,” Khelar sighed.

“For me Khelar,” Elesther pleaded. Nodding, Khelar slowly began to rise from the bed. She grabbed onto his white tunic, pulling herself up so their eyes met. Elesther leaned in, her perfume on her neck making Khelar’s legs week. Their lips locked; moving with uncompromising passion.

The door to Elesther’s room suddenly burst open, revealing two royal guards dressed in crimson and blue. “Princess Elesther, get away from him!” one of the guards growled. “We have an arrest warrant for Captain Khelar of Haeland, signed by the King himself.” The two lovers separated, neither willing to break eye contact.

“This man is not responsible for my sickness,” Elesther scoffed, her eyes still glued to Khelar’s silver irises.

“Milady, he is the man behind your sickness,” the second guard spoke up, “the high priests have traced your illness back to his magic.”

“Only because her father says so,” Khelar snapped savagely, staring at the guards with murderous contempt. At once, the guards drew their swords; the bright steel glittered in the firelight. Khelar was able to make out the men’s faces. The shorter one he did not know but the taller guard was Eric Vanics, one of his own soldiers.

“As Princess of Saric, I order you to stand down,” Elesther commanded, her voice weak, but filled with authority.

“Listen to her Eric,” Khelar snarled to the taller guard, “I have no desire to kill you.”

“We only follow the orders of the King,” Eric sneered taking a step forward. Khelar’s eyes flashed to his sword, but Elesther’s hand shot out to grab his arm.

“You promised,” she reminded him, her voice no more than a whisper.

“Grab him,” the shorter guard yelled. The Eric lunged forward, grabbing Khelar by his long hair and pulling him onto the floor. There was a sickening crack as Khelar’s head slammed against the cobble stone. Before Khelar could defend himself, Eric slammed his elbow into the side of Khelar’s face, making the young man howl out in pain. Crying, Elesther threw herself at Eric, but stumbled as she tried to get out of her cushiony bed.

“Stay with the princess,” Eric bellowed as he hit Khelar with an armored fist, this time catching the wounded captain in the ribs. Khelar desperately tried to remain conscious while the tall guard brutally clamped shackles on his hands. All he could hear was the terrifying screams of Elesther wailing. Eric forced him out of Elesther’s quarters, pushing him to his knees into the stone corridor.

Khelar lost consciousness, but Eric prodded the bloodied Captain to keep moving. Khelar’s thoughts became clear again when they reached the concourse between the royal families apartments and the main hall of the castle. The night sky was almost invisible because of the thick lair of fog that had crept onto the land. “Elesther!” he yelled, struggling against his chains but to no avail.

The guard pushed him forward, mocking the captain’s plea. Blood trickled down the captain’s chin, causing red spots to stain his white tunic. The taste of blood filled his senses, making his muscles tense reflexively. He wasn’t dead yet. Spinning on his heal, he brought the shackles against the side of the guards head. Hot blood jettisoned out of the guard’s broken ear drum, showering Khelar in a new coat of blood. Without looking back, Khelar ran to the edge of the causeway and looked down into the foggy gulf. He turned back to find another escape, but four guards were already running toward him.

Khelar straightened up, as he edged closer so his feet were tangling off the wall. “Stop in the name of the King!” someone yelled.

“I’m not letting that bastard kill me!” Khelar yelled back in defiance.

He jumped over the side, disappearing into the abyss.