The Ice King’s Consort (The Ice King Chronicles #1)

Chapter Five

I did have questions for him, but he was right.

I was starving and the supper Lord Turog’s servants had laid out for us was delicious, even if Turog and his lady themselves were less than welcoming.

Tarrak whispered in my ear as he sat beside me that it was because they’d never actually seen a mortal.

They were both young, and Tarrak said they were satisfied to stay in the country and rarely come to the Ice Palace.

They were very aware of who I was though, and I wondered if Lord Juul had had a word to warn them.

While they were icily polite to me, they fawned over the king, who accepted it as his due.

He really could be insufferable a good deal of the time.

I wasn’t sure why I thought he was attractive, though all of the Quendi were better looking than they had any right to be.

The king left it up to me to navigate the many courses they served us, along with the strange, though delicious, food and wine that was served.

The table itself was dressed in snowy white linen, not silk like the king’s had been on the night of his feast, but luxurious to me all the same.

Silver candlesticks lined the middle of the table, and it was set with fine metal dishes and pewter goblets filled with mead.

Not long after we arrived, I saw Lord Juul come in.

He bowed to the king and nodded at me, his eyes dark and hooded.

He looked to be feeling fine, as if he’d never been sick at all.

Had my potion really worked so well to heal him, and if it had, would it have killed him to thank me?

As he came up beside me in the line for food, I did ask him a few questions about the food, in a whisper, so no one would hear me.

Lord Turog’s staff wasn’t large enough to accommodate all of us, so most of us were serving ourselves from the sideboards.

There must have been ten or more courses to get through, and I wasn’t familiar with most of them—the soups of barley and vegetables I could figure out from the smell, but not the chilled strawberry.

Chilled soup? I didn’t understand it. And the flat breads and cheeses and herring were fine, but what in the world was a lamprey pie? When Juul explained about eels, I quickly declined that dish.

Then came the roasted squabs, which I recognized, but there were other wild birds I did not, some even dressed with their own feathers, which seemed to me to be adding insult to injury.

The roast pork and rabbit, I knew, of course, but I wasn’t used to eating it on a regular basis by any means, with rich gravies and sauces.

It was truly a feast that had more food at one sitting than the entire little village I’d been living in could have consumed in a few days.

I filled my plate though at each course and did the best I could with most of it, eating a little taste of this or a spoonful of that.

And all the while, Lord Juul’s gaze rarely left me.

He looked at me from a few seats away down the long table as if he were trying to figure me out but wasn’t having much luck with it.

Tarrak noticed it too, as he seemed to notice everything.

I leaned over and hid my mouth with my hand while I asked the king, “Why is Lord Juul looking at me like that?”

He glanced at him and smiled.

“Lord Juul is trying to figure out exactly what you are.”

I gasped and laid down my spoon.

“What I am? What do you mean?”

He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug.

“You told me you were a wizard when you tried to bargain for your release.

I didn’t believe you then.

Now I’m not so sure.”

He glanced down at me with speculation clear on his face.

“I wonder,”

he said softly.

“You said you could be my wizard, and I believe you used the phrase, ‘like the Elven kings used to have in the old stories.’ Which makes me wonder.

What exactly do you know about the old Elven kings and their wizards? And how do you know it?”

“I-I don’t know much.

Just what I’ve said.

My grandmother used to tell me stories.”

“Who exactly was this grandmother of yours?”

“Just my grandmother.

She’s passed now, but she was what we call a wise woman.

She helped with illnesses and other things, like warts or a bad tooth.

Crops that wouldn’t grow or had some kind of blight. She helped ease people’s pain, and she was a midwife too and brought babies in the world. She was a good person.”

“Mm.

And you said it was she who taught you to play your little pipes.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Interesting.

Juul was awake for some of your healing, you know.

When you forced your vile tasting little concoction down his throat, he said you sang to him in a sweet and pleasing voice.

It was a song he recognized, as did I when he told me about it.”

“You recognized it?”

“I should say I remembered it.

‘The Ballad of Fiona.’ My mother left when I was very young, but I still recall her singing it to me.

I believe you said you could use your magic to either ‘heal or harm,’ isn’t that right?”

“Well.

I may have exaggerated just a touch.

I’ve never tried to harm anyone before.”

He took another sip of wine and set his goblet back down on the table, twirling the stem for a moment before he spoke again.

“It was a fairy’s song that you sang to him, Pavel.”

He looked up at me again and said, in a voice that carried through the room, “I believe you may have fairy blood running through your veins, and you’ve inherited some strong fairy magic.”

I gasped, as did most everyone in the room, including the servants.

All except for Juul, that is.

His gaze merely sharpened on my face.

I shook my head violently.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

Tarrak said, his voice still soft, but unyielding.

“Perhaps.

Yet the long scratch on my neck is completely healed.”

He turned his head to show me again and the skin there was indeed smooth and completely unblemished.

For a moment I was speechless.

But only a moment.

I had no idea if they would like the idea of a fairy in their midst or not, but I assumed the answer would be no. Lord Juul had looked odd when he mentioned Tarrak’s mother, and I got the distinct impression that fairies weren’t in favor with the Elves. Fairies were fae, like the Elves, and like them, they could be dark or light—good or evil. I didn’t want them to draw a wrong conclusion about me, because who knew what they might do to me?

“Well, I…uh…I told you I was a wizard,”

I said, looking up at him as steadily as I could.

“Not a fairy.”

“You said that you could make men ‘dance to your tune.’”

I realized suddenly that I could have phrased that better.

Would he think I meant him and his people?

“Yes,”

I laughed unsteadily.

“I did say that, didn’t I? I only meant that I could help you with your enemies.”

He gazed at me for so long I began to get nervous, and then he smiled and turned back to his goblet.

I’d noticed the smile never reached his eyes.

“You say you’re a wizard.

I wonder, Pavel, what you think a wizard is?”

“A wizard? It’s a person who can do magic.

Like a witch, only…not exactly.”

I could feel my skin growing hot.

He was looking at me strangely.

Was I in some kind of danger over this? Elves could be so unpredictable, and who could know what might set them off? The king didn’t seem all that pleased about my ability to heal him and Juul and the others.

Actually, I had amazed myself. I had always been good at healing, but never like this. Never so quickly and with only one application of a potion. Tarrak had told me the others had simply heard me singing and playing on my pipes. Was my new-found ability because I was now in the Elven world? In the Ice Forest itself? Did that greatly enhance my skills somehow?

And could what he said about me being a fairy possibly be true? Oh, not a full-blooded fairy, of course, I wasn’t delusional, and I knew who my parents were.

But could I actually carry some traces—or more—of fairy blood?

I was momentarily stunned by the idea that I might have some.

My mother was extraordinarily beautiful, just like it was said all fairies were.

Everyone remarked on it, even after the years of poverty and hard times with my father had scoured most of it from her face and ruined her health.

She never showed even the slightest traces of magic. Though, come to think of it, she’d never tried to do any either, so far as I knew. When my grandmother would ask her to help her make her potions and cures, my mother wouldn’t even attempt it. She would clutch the cross she always wore around her neck and mutely shake her head, her eyes wide with fear.

It occurred to me then that she feared the cures my grandmother made.

I could see that clearly now.

It was why they argued so much over me—because I was so drawn to my grandmother and to helping her with her potions and learning to play the pipes and sing the old songs.

I suppose that was why she told my grandmother it was dangerous. But dangerous, how?

At the time, I thought it was because people might think my grandmother, and my mother and me by association, were witches or practiced the Dark Arts and that could have been some of it.

And witches, or the poor old women and men who were accused of practicing the craft, were tortured by the church officials and killed in sometimes horrible ways.

Could my grandmother have been a fairy? I immediately dismissed the idea.

My grandmother was wise, but it was a wisdom of this world and not any other. She was never otherworldly or mystical in any way. And she had fondly told me stories of her life growing up on a farm and of her mother and father, long dead before I was born.

But what about the man who had fathered my mother? My grandfather? That mysterious personage had never been in the picture as far as I knew.

And in fact, no one—neither my grandmother nor my mother—would ever tell me anything about him, not even how he looked.

Once, on my nineteenth birthday, my grandmother had said I was getting to be almost “sinfully handsome, like your grandfather,”

but then had looked startled at her own words and changed the subject, refusing to be drawn out any further on the subject.

She and my mother both were vague and would change the topic of conversation whenever I asked, and as a matter of fact, I didn’t even know my grandfather’s name.

But if it were he who was the culprit, that would give me more than just a few drops of fairy blood.

I’d be one-quarter fairy. Possibly even more if my grandmother had a drop or two of fairy blood as well.

It was said in the legends that you could always tell a fairy from a human because nobody human could possibly be so beautiful.

Fairies were always dangerous and tricky to deal with, and you could bring a fairy curse down on your head without even trying.

It wasn’t hard to offend a fairy, and if you ever did make one of them mad at you, they never forgot it.

Not ever, and they’d always try to exact some twisted revenge. Again, not unlike the Quendi in that regard.

Fairies had pale skin and usually dark hair, very unlike the Quendi.

The Quendi’s silver blond hair and their fair skin and their fondness for gold in their clothing and jewelry reminded me of some of the words of an old song that my mother used to sing about the rewards of heaven.

Even their skin had a luminous quality, like it was frosted with ice.

One other thing I remembered about the legends concerning the fae creatures, though.

If you ever met one, you’d know it right away.

They had a presence that couldn’t be mistaken for human.

I wasn’t sure what to make of all of it.

My words to the king about being a wizard had been mostly bravado and an attempt to keep myself safe, if I could make him believe me.

I was hoping to fool him so I could make a deal with him to save myself, since they seemed to value bargains so much.

But what if I did have some fairy blood? That would account for my skill in music and healing.

And what would the king think about it? Would he be pleased or not?

I raised my own goblet to my lips, and the king leaned over casually and said something in my ear that made me choke and splutter.

“Those wizards you spoke of.

The ones the old Elven kings used to have? Interesting idea.”

His breath gusted softly against my cheek.

“Because a wizard is not what they are…it’s simply a job title.

They were all fairies, you know.”

****

The ride home the next day seemed to take a long time.

Why was it that coming back from a trip always seemed longer than going? I hadn’t slept well the night before, though I’d had a bed all to myself.

When we went up to the bedroom I’d been in, the king left me at the door.

He was still adhering to our agreement about not sleeping with me until after we were married, and he explained that Juul had been given another room.

“Unfortunately, Lord Turog didn’t realize who you were.

Juul will sleep in a nearby chamber tonight,”

he told me as he said goodnight.

“Oh,”

I said, not sure how I felt about that.

Was I relieved or a bit disappointed? I was hardly sure.

“Thank you.”

He waited until I bowed to him and then he inclined his head and gestured for me to go in.

I had a vague fear that he would lock me in, but the lock didn’t click, and I pressed my ear to the door and heard his footsteps go softly down the hallway.

I lay awake for a long time, thinking about what the king had said to me at supper, and wondering if I should be worried.

But I had already told him I was a wizard, and I had healed him and his men with my potions.

I was in too far to back out now.

On the way home, I rode on Lord Juul’s stag again, perched in front of him, as I had done before.

He was quiet and thoughtful and seemed to have something on his mind.

He allowed me to lie back against him, and because it was so cold, even with my furs, I took advantage.

I asked him once that morning if his wound was bothering him, but he simply shook his head and didn’t say anymore.

Was he angry at me? He didn’t seem to be, but he was awfully quiet.

The idea of his possible anger outraged me a bit.

After all, I hadn’t asked to be taken from my home by him in the middle of the night and brought to this strange land that I was more and more convinced wasn’t even in the same realm as mine.

I had thought about this even before I came to the Ice Forest, and I was pretty sure the Forest wasn’t in the mortal realm.

I wasn’t sure how any of it worked, but I knew that fairies and ogres, for example, weren’t exactly around every corner.

Though you might hear of someone meeting one occasionally in the forest, it was exceedingly rare.

The same with the Elves—we saw traces and signs of Quendi Ice Soldiers only in winter.

I wondered if in winter, the borders of our world and theirs slipped just a trifle.

Or if the worlds came closer—close enough to touch in places.

Like near the Ice Poles in my village.

Perhaps they opened then just enough to let them come out and mortals like me go in. After all, the sightings we’d had of the Ice Soldiers had always been in the winter. And in the old days, when the young mortal men and women had been kidnapped, it had always been near the time of the Winter Solstice. King Tarrak’s own mother had been a fairy, Juul said, so that meant the Fairy Realm must somehow be connected to the Quendi Forest or the Forest was a part of the Fairy Realm. Yet there were real places you could find on a map nearby the Forest. It was all very confusing.

We reached the Ice Palace after a few hours and Juul put me down in the courtyard and bid me go inside to my room.

He said I needed to rest.

I went up and into the main foyer and a servant met me and gestured that he would take me to my room.

Once there, he asked me if I wanted a bath and showed me that he had placed fresh clothing on my bed. Unless I wanted to sleep for a while? In which case, he could see to it I wasn’t disturbed.

I agreed to the bath, since I did feel a little grubby, and I told him I’d take a nap too.

Because I had absolutely nothing to do to fill my time anyway, and I was tired from the journey and all the excitement.

After my bath I wrapped myself in the warm blankets on my bed and fell into a sound and dreamless sleep.

When I woke, I filled the time with going through my new wardrobe. I had at least ten new suits of clothing, and each one I took out seemed finer than the first. I’d never had more than two shirts and pairs of trousers in my life, and those were heavily mended.

After I dressed in my new finery, I sat by the window, looking out at the busy courtyard below, absently playing my pipes.

I had been thinking about my little brother, Sergey, and wondering how he was faring without me to care for him.

My father had never shown any interest in abusing him the way he tried to abuse me.

Perhaps it was Sergey’s young age, or maybe Sergey didn’t appeal to him the way I did.

Whatever the reason, I was glad of it.

I had to find some way to keep him safe, though, until I returned. If I returned…

I still had no idea why this glittering, gorgeous king had me taken and why he thought I’d make a good consort for him.

I wondered if he would tell me his reasons soon.

Somehow, I knew they wouldn’t be anything good.

I was wearing an emerald green suit with my just-cleaned new boots.

One of the army of male servants had “dressed me,”

after shaving my face and brushing my hair until it shone.

Then he brought out the king’s heavy crown and the huge diamond ring he had given me at the “betrothal feast”

the night before our journey.

I had left them behind the morning Juul had come to rouse me.

I wore them now, feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable.

The ring was too big and slipped around on my finger, and I felt like a fraud wearing the crown.

I wore it anyway, wishing it weren’t quite so large and showy, and when a series of gongs sounded throughout the palace, I followed the servant who came for me down to the dining room near the great hall.

It seemed the entire court was assembled, and as soon as I made an appearance, there was an immediate hush—then a flurry of fans rising as whispers filled the air.

I kept my head high and looked only at the king as I made my way through the tables to his, high on a dais at the back of the hall.

Tarrak had been standing with Juul and two other Lords, deep in conversation as I approached, but they had all stopped to look at me as I entered, and they silently watched me approach.

A courtier needlessly helped me climb the two steps up on the dais, and I went over to stand beside the king and bow deeply to him.

His eyes raked me up and down.

“Have a seat,”

he said, gesturing to the chair beside his.

“I have news about our wedding.”

I gasped out loud and glanced over at Lord Juul, who stared back at me unblinkingly.

I nodded my head to him, conscious of its heavy burden, and went to my chair beside Tarrak.

The king still had yet to smile at me or make me feel welcome with any sign of pleasure at seeing me.

I sat down and picked up my silver goblet, already filled with red wine the color of old blood. I took a deep draught of it, despite the way it looked, and it was bitter and bold and burned all the way down. I was beginning to discover that I much preferred white wine.

He sat down beside me and leaned in.

“Did you hear me? I said I have news about our wedding.”

I took a breath and turned to him. “You do?”

“Yes.

My council informed me when I arrived that all preparations for the ceremony have been made.

The guests have arrived, and we’ll be married later tonight.”

“Tonight?”

I may have squeaked a bit as I said the word.

For the first time since we’d arrived, he gave me the slightest of smiles.

“Yes.

After we dine.

It won’t be a long ceremony, or anything to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,”

I lied.

“I’m just a bit surprised.

I didn’t realize it would be so soon.”

“It has to be soon because we have to leave again in two weeks for the land of the Dokkalfar.

I have a debt there I am honor bound to pay.”

“You do? And I’m to go along?”

“Yes.”

“I see.

These Dokkalfar.

Aren’t they the Dark Elves? The ones who live mostly underground? I think I’ve heard of them.”

“Yes.

The Dark Elves live in the hills and in underground caves because they don’t like the light.

Their name refers to their liking for such places, not necessarily their natures.

Some are dangerous, like some Quendi and mortals are, but it’s not always so. The Dark Elves have magic, as do we, and they can use it for good or for evil.”

“What kind of magic?”

“None of the healing skills, like yours.

Elven magic is more… We have a natural defense against certain dark powers, like ogres and goblins, and we can bring luck, both to ourselves and others…if we wish to.”

“And why are we leaving to go see these Dokkalfar?”

“I got into some difficulty with their king a short time ago, and it must be resolved.

As I said, I owe him a payment.”

“And what does this have to do with me?”

He looked at me and then away.

“You’re the payment.”

I drew back, feeling shocked, though I’d known all along it had to be such a thing.

“Y-you’re going to give me to the Dark Elves,”

I said softly.

“Yes… No.

Not if I can help it.”

He turned his head away and stared straight ahead, his face grim and set.

“I’ll do everything I can to stop it.”

“I-I see.

And if I refuse to be given?”

His face flushed flared with anger.

“We have a bargain.

You belong to me and if you were to refuse me, then I’ll have the right to kill you myself.”

We simply stared at each other for a moment, and to his credit, he did seem shocked at the words that had just come out of his mouth.

As for me…I was reeling.

I had known all along that this was a Quendi king—an Elf.

And the Elves were savage and cruel. So why was I so shocked?

I had to say something—I spoke the first words that popped into my head.

“Maybe I wouldn’t let you kill me.

Maybe I’d stop you.”

Surprised again, he gave an abrupt bark of laughter, his eyes savage and stormy.

What was he thinking? I had no idea because he didn’t reply, but I saw in his eyes that he was in the throes of some strong emotion.

“You’d really kill me?”

“My advisors would want me to, but it’s not a matter of a simple yes or no.

I owe a debt of honor.

Can you possibly understand that? Honor is the most important thing to us.

The most important thing. Terrible wars have been fought over much less, and if I should be seen as not having honor, my brother would surely capitalize on it and move to raise an army against me. It would give him the standing he needs.”

“I notice you’re still not saying you wouldn’t.”

I was shocked and yes, hurt.

And I couldn’t be polite or respectful.

Not then.

I knew that if I refused to go with him willingly, he’d simply force me to go anyway. He looked away, biting down on his lip. When he turned back to look at me, his face was red, and his eyes were bleak. But I had learned from my own father that there were worse things to fear in life than your own death. Besides, it looked as though whether I refused to appease him or let him give me to the Dark Elves, I’d be dead either way. I had to be smart now in what I said if I were to survive this.

I put my chin up and said, “If I agree to go with you, I’ll almost surely be killed.”

He sighed and shook his head, but his eyes told the truth.

Sadly, he nodded, shoulders slumped.

“Perhaps.

I don’t know for sure.”

I thought for a long moment while he twirled the stem of his goblet in his fingers and studied my face.

I glanced at Lord Juul, sitting on my other side.

He looked cold and unfeeling, but then he glanced up to meet my gaze.

The look in his eyes was bleak, and he dropped his gaze first.

The first course was being served, and I shook my head and put my hand over my plate.

The king noticed and sat very still for a moment.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No, I believe I’ve lost my appetite.”

He threw his napkin down and pushed his own plate away, too, so hard that it fell to the floor with a loud clang.

All the noise in the room stopped as everyone’s gazes flew toward him.

“This is not what I want! You don’t understand.

Mortals have no idea about honor!”

He scrubbed his face with his hands, noticed everyone staring at us, and then shouted at them.

“Well, what are you all looking at?”

The entire crowd turned away so quickly, I would be surprised if a few hadn’t hurt themselves.

Most everyone looked back down at their plates.

All except Juul, that is, who kept his eyes firmly fixed on our little drama.

Tarrak got to his feet so quickly his chair fell backward.

He snapped his fingers at me and held out his hand imperiously.

“Get up and come with me.”

“Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

“And stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Calling me ‘Your Majesty’ in that tone of voice.

You called me Tarrak before.”

“That was before you told me you were going to take me off somewhere to be murdered.”

He huffed again and shook his hand at me impatiently.

I rose from my chair and took it.

He yanked me up behind him and leaped off the dais, dragging me along.

He turned back to shout at Lord Juul.

“You too, Juul.

Come with us.”

We all walked quickly out of the dining hall, down past all the tables of nobility staring at us in open-mouthed fascination.

The king took us to another beautifully appointed room just off the main hall and slammed the doors behind us.

It was a sitting room of some sort, and he paced back and forth.

Juul leaned back against the door and silently watched him.

The king stopped his pacing and pointed his finger at my face.

“You’re impossible.

I don’t like this either, you know.

But my honor is at stake. I have a debt that I must satisfy. Can you possibly understand that?”

I pretended to think about it for a moment.

“Hmm, let me think… No, I don’t believe I can.

Not when saving your ‘honor’ means I’ll have to sacrifice my life.”

He frowned ferociously but had the grace to look away.

“I don’t want you to be a sacrifice.

I never meant to actually like you.

Even to admire you. But I find that I do. Even if you are so…”

He threw up his hands in disgust and began pacing up again.

He stopped after a few rounds and glared at me.

“I’ll do everything in my power to stop it and save you.

I give you my word.”

He suddenly focused all his attention on me, his eyes gleaming.

“Or—or perhaps you can save yourself? I’ve seen what you can do now.

And you said you could use your powers to heal or harm.

Can you? Tell me the truth, Pavel. Your life depends on it.”

Well, when he put it like that…

“I don’t know.

I-I’m not sure.

As I told you, I’ve never tried to harm anyone.

Not even those who tried to do me harm in the past. And my um, my powers are different here. Much stronger than at home. To be honest, I don’t know what I can or can’t do.”

“Who tried to do you harm?”

he asked, focusing on that one thing I’d just said.

He was an impossible man, taking a step toward me, his face angry over someone who may have once hurt me.

It was almost funny—he was furious and ready to avenge me, when he had just told me he was going to deliver me to my doom.

Not to mention the fact he said he’d have to kill me himself if I refused to go. He must have seen that in my expression because he waved it away like it was nothing.

“I wasn’t serious when I said I’d kill you.

Tell him, Juul.”

“The king merely meant…”

“Oh, no, Lord Juul.

Don’t try to explain it.

You can’t!”

“His Majesty was angry.

And frustrated.

I can well understand his feelings.”

“Yes, that’s right.

I’d just been arguing with my council about it right before you arrived.”

I turned to glare over at Juul.

“Oh, allow me to guess what Lord Juul here told you to do.”

Juul shot me a furious look and took a step toward me, but the king broke in smoothly.

“Actually, Juul wanted me to take you back home,”

the king said.

He glanced over at Juul in amusement.

“He’s a little afraid of you, I think.

He believes you might be a fairy, here to do me a wrong turn.”

I whirled to face Juul.

“Can you be serious? I’m here because you kidnapped me!”

He folded his arms truculently over his chest.

“Must you bring that up constantly?”

“Yes! Because it’s the truth and a major point!”

I folded my own arms.

Two could play that game.

“I believe I have been given a bad bargain.

You should have given my father more compensation.”

Juul glared at me, losing his temper.

“Is there enough compensation for killing you? If so, tell me what it is, so I might go immediately and give it to him!”

I glared at him.

“Very funny.

I don’t know if there is or not.

But you should have at least tried to offer more.”

I glared at him.

“No.

You should give me more.”

The king shot me an irritated glare.

“So the honor of becoming my consort still isn’t enough for you, mortal?”

“Not when that ‘honor’ means giving up my life.

I should have more!”

I insisted, raising my voice, because what did I have to lose?

“I’m thinking of taking you back home myself, washing my hands of you, and finding another mortal.”

“No, please allow me to do it, Your Majesty,”

Juul broke in.

“No!”

I even surprised myself with that reply.

Both beautiful men turned to look at me, but how could I live with the idea that I’d traded my life for someone else’s? And why did the thought of someone taking my place here bother me so much?

“How can I make you understand that a mortal’s life is sacred too? Tarrak, if you hadn’t thought this ‘payment’ of yours would be deadly, you would have chosen a consort from your own people. And you!”

I turned my wrath on Juul.

“You obviously don’t value any mortal, so you chose to come and take one of us instead of your precious Quendi.

Isn’t that right?”

“What if it is?”

Juul was shouting at me, his shoulders held stiffly.

Danger fairly crackled in the air around us, but I had little left to lose.

Die now or die later—there was truly little difference.

At least I’d be in familiar surroundings and not in some horribly dark, dank, underground cave when I met my doom. Juul took a step toward me, his icy eyes searing my face. He was bluffing though, and I knew it.

None of us spoke for a moment.

I felt as if we were at an impasse.

“Can you at least tell me what this debt of honor is? I think I at least deserve to know what it’s about if I’m to give my life for it.”

King Tarrak sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

Then, just when I thought he would refuse to tell me, he blurted it out.

“I killed the mate of the king of the Dokkalfar clan.”

I gasped, and he sighed impatiently.

“It was an accident.”

“I see.

And now this Dark Elf wants you to do what?”

“To give him my mate in return.”

“Except you don’t have one.”

“I didn’t. No.”

He held out a hand to me.

“Please try to understand.

I didn’t want to bring you here.

But my council insisted I find a mate to satisfy the debt of honor and that the payment of my debt be done by a mortal instead of one of one of the Quendi. So, at length, after a great deal of argument and discussion…”

“You agreed.”

He raised his shoulders again in a shrug, but he couldn’t look at me.

“Why me though?”

I asked.

“Of all the others in the villages near the forest?”

He shook his head.

“Juul already told you.

The Quendi are known for their beauty.

The Dark Elf king knows this and wouldn’t have believed my interest in you otherwise. He would have known it immediately for a trick.”

“And so…?”

I don’t know why I wanted so badly to hear him say the actual words, but I did.

When he stubbornly kept his back to me, I turned to Juul.

“So? Why me?”

“Because you’re a mortal, and you’re also…”

Juul sighed.

“You’re very beautiful.

Though I’m beginning to wonder what I ever saw in you.

Beauty is in the personality too and not just the face, it seems.”

I glared at him until he turned his head away, his cheeks flaming pink.

I turned back to Tarrak.

“But why did you have to actually marry me? Why couldn’t you simply have told the Dark Elves that I was your consort?”

His dark eyebrows lifted as his ice-colored eyes swept over me again in outrage.

“And be foresworn? I do not lie.”

I opened my mouth to rail at him about how his thinking was so disordered that he thought it was bad to be foresworn but not to murder me, but I thought better of it.

The difference between mortals and the fae had never seemed so vast to me before, and the Elves’ intricate rules and reasoning were something I couldn’t hope to ever understand.

We stared at each other for a long moment and then the king sighed.

“I swear to you on my most sacred oath,”

Tarrak said, “that I will do everything in my power to save you.”

“From what exactly? You think he’ll kill me as soon as he gets hold of me?”

“Yes.”

It was Juul who answered in a flat voice, an odd look on his face that on anyone else I’d think was sadness.

On him, I figured it was just indigestion or his feet hurt in those pointy boots.

“I think he will,”

he elaborated.

“I think he’ll want us to watch you die.”

A chill swept over me, but I shook it off.

I could fall apart later, but now I had to get all the information I could.

“Tell me exactly what happened with this Dark Elf king’s husband.”

The king sighed.

“In the hunt, perhaps a month or so before you arrived, I chased a white deer to ground and tracked it to a cave.

He was a shapeshifter, apparently, and appeared to me as a white deer.

Inside the cave, I saw a flash of fur and shot at it with an arrow. Unfortunately, when I got closer, I found a man wearing white fur lying on his back in the cave with my arrow embedded in his chest. He was already dead. The arrow had struck his heart, and there was nothing I could do to save him. It was an accident, but the king is furious because I killed his mate, no matter the cause. He demands retribution, as is his right by Elven law. The only way to repay a debt so great is by an ancient edict—an eye for an eye. In other words, my mate for his.”

“Your mate—whom he will almost certainly kill in revenge?”

“Yes,”

he said softly, regretfully.

“But I swear…”

“On your sacred oath.

Yes, I heard all that.

You’ll ‘try’ to save me.”

I began to pace up and down myself.

If only there was some way for me to make him rethink this madness.

To get inside his head and make him see how wrong this all was.

Just because it was the way things had always been done, didn’t mean it had to be done that way forever. It was madness. If only he truly cared for me and this sham marriage wasn’t only a ploy on his part. Then maybe I could get through to him. Maybe he would understand how wrong all this was.

My magic in this realm was so much stronger.

Could that possibly help me?

Just then, as plainly as if I were teleported there, I was in the middle of an old memory concerning my grandmother.

I was maybe fourteen years old, and I’d been staying with her to help in the garden where she grew her herbs and also her vegetables.

A young man came to my grandmother’s little house late one evening.

I was on my way to bed, tired out from hoeing and working all day. My grandmother had opened the door readily though, used to being called out to help birth babies in the middle of the night.

This young man didn’t need her for that, however.

He was the young son of one of her neighbors and he was in despair, the tracks of his tears streaming down his face.

He had been sent away by his lover, who had just ended things between them, and he had come in desperation to my grandmother for a love potion.

“I have to make her love me again, don’t you see?”

he had implored her, holding onto her skirt as she leaned over him to give him comfort.

“You have to make her love me.

Please make me a potion.”

She had drawn back in dismay and gazed down at him.

“Love potions are powerful.

But not only that, they’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous how? What does it matter when all is said and done? She’ll be in love with me again.

And I’ll love her forever.

It might take years for the potion to wear off, and by then she might even have come to care for me.”

From what I knew of love potions, the opposite was true.

Once it wore off or was taken off by someone, the feelings of love often rebounded violently and turned to hatred.

Not only that, but if a person were already in love, it wouldn’t work on them at all.

True love, for example, was impossible. True love couldn’t be made to happen. Nor could it be stopped once it had already taken hold. There was no magic more powerful in the universe.

She shook her head.

“It’s dishonest,”

she said softly, quietly.

“And it wouldn’t be true love anyway that she’d feel for you.

Still—while the spell is on someone, it’s a powerful thing indeed!”

“I don’t care!”

he cried out despairingly.

“I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

“You say you don’t care now.

But you’re young.

Minds change.

People change. One day you might want out of the relationship, and if you decide at some point you want to be away from her—say you fall out of love with her—well, I can take the spell away again. But once her love for you is dead, it can never be rekindled. Not by me or anyone else. I can only tell you again—a love spell is powerful.”

A love spell—a powerful one, brought on by a potion I knew how to make!

Of course, why hadn’t I thought of this before? It could be the answer to everything.

I stopped and turned to look at both of them.

“My father clearly made a bad bargain,”

I said in a loud voice.

“Lord Juul, you didn’t specify the terms.”

Juul flushed and balled up his fists.

“It’s not up to the person who makes the offer to specify terms.

It’s up to the other person to say what terms he’ll take.

I made the offer. Your father asked no questions and asked for no concessions. He simply accepted. I can’t help his stupidity.”

“It wasn’t stupidity; it was ignorance of your insane rules.

And you know I deserve more than just a crown, some new clothes, and a wedding ring.

I need you to give me more if I agree to go along quietly to be murdered.”

“The king said he was going to try to stop it!”

“Oh, I see…then you expect me to go along quietly to possibly be murdered.”

Juul was practically spitting mad.

“You’re impossible!”

“Look who’s talking!”

A guard opened the door and looked in at us, and I realized we’d all been shouting at the top of our lungs at each other.

Where I ever found the courage, I don’t know, but finding out you’re about to be killed can make you bolder than you ever imagined.

“It’s all right,”

Tarrak told him.

“Stay outside and close the doors.”

The guard withdrew, shooting me a dark look.

Tarrak was very popular with his people, particularly his soldiers, and Lord Juul too.

God knew why.

I took a deep breath and tried to settle down, because my heart was banging around like it was about to break free and fly out of my chest.

Tarrak straightened in his chair and gazed directly into my eyes; his face was proud and flushed, his chin raised defiantly.

“You have my word, Pavel.”

“Good.

Thank you for that.

But as I’ve said, I need more.

After all, I have to convince this Dark Elf, whose husband you’ve killed, that I’m your beloved.”

He looked at me in surprise.

“What makes you think that’s necessary?”

“Why else would he accept your sacrifice if he thought it meant so little to you? The whole idea is to make you as miserable as he presumably is.”

He made a sound of extreme impatience.

After a long moment, he asked me softly, “What would you have from me then?”

“Two things.

The first is easy enough for you.

I want more gold.

Enough that if I somehow figure out a way to survive this, you’ll allow me to leave this place and go home. I have a young brother to see to.”

“How much gold do you want?”

“Enough that I can buy a warm house and clothes for my brother and food for our table.

So I can buy an apprenticeship and learn a trade and not be dependent on the blacksmith for my livelihood ever again.

He’s an unpleasant man and expects me to work long hours for little or no money.

A hundred golden kopecs should do it. No…two hundred.”

He regarded me oddly, as if making up his mind about something.

“And if, as you say, you don’t survive?”

“I’d still want the gold given to my younger brother.

In a way that my father can’t take it and spend it.

Don’t kill my father though.

Just…find someone you may be able to trust in the village. Maybe the head man. And another thing.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s more?”

“Yes.

I need your promise that your soldiers will stop attacking the people in my village, and the ones in the entire district, for that matter.

They aren’t soldiers and have no defenses against you.”

Juul gave me a shocked and affronted look.

“But what if they come onto our land to hunt?”

“They won’t.

They’re much too afraid of you after all these years.

But if they do, we can stop them easily enough, without killing them.”

“What is this we business?”

Tarrak asked.

“The villagers are mortal, like me, so I know them better than either of you, and I know what to do and say to them.

It’s only sensible that I should be involved.

If I survive this.”

“What if they harm our people?”

“I can’t imagine how they’d manage to do that, but if they do, they should be punished.

As yours should be if they harm mine.”

The king looked shocked at that idea, but he hesitated, and it seemed he was thinking over my proposition.

“And that’s all you want?”

“No…remember I said there were two things.”

“The gold and not bothering the other mortals.

Isn’t that two things?”

“Well, no, not exactly.

That was more of one thing—with a Part A and a Part B.”

He blew out a long breath, and I heard Juul make a very rude noise, but I stood my ground.

“Are you ready to hear Part Two?”

“Oh, by all means!”

Juul shouted, sounding frustrated.

“Go ahead and waste more of the king’s time!”

“Stop shouting.

You’ll bring the guards back in here.”

He pressed his lips together—maybe to keep from screaming—and gave me a long, hard look.

“What is it then? My patience is almost at an end.”

“As is my life…but all right.

Here it is.

I want Tarrak to drink a love potion for me.”

Tarrak’s and Juul’s eyes got huge. “What?”

“He’s insane,”

Juul said, throwing up his hands and stalking to the window to stare out of it.

“Just hear me out.

I’ll make a love potion for Tarrak and he has to drink it.

That will help him in two ways.”

“Oh, it will help me. I see,”

Tarrak said.

“Have you lost your mind? If I drink a love potion and fall in love with you, and then this Dokkalfar king kills you, am I to spend the rest of my days pining for you? How can this possibly be construed as a good thing?”

It would serve him right, of course, if that was exactly what would happen.

But that wasn’t the idea.

Well, not the main one anyway, though it did appeal on some levels.

“No, listen to me. This king is, I presume, not a stupid man. He must have heard by now that when you made your vow to him, you had no consort.”

“He didn’t specify that in the terms of our bargain.

So long as I present him with my true consort, which you will be, I will have satisfied the terms of our agreement.”

“Nonetheless, this Dark Elf king wants you to suffer.

He won’t be satisfied unless you do.

If you take the potion, you’ll fall in love with me, and you’ll grieve for me, if worse comes to worst and he manages to kill me.

He’ll see it, and only then will he be satisfied that you paid the price, and he’ll go away.”

“And leave me suffering.

I’m still failing to see how this is a good idea.”

“Oh, for goodness sake.

I’ll leave you with an antidote.

All you have to do is take it, and you’ll be right as rain again.”

“Don’t be offended, but I’m not totally convinced of your potions’ efficacy.”

“You can test it on whomever you wish.

Just to make sure.”

“Hmm.

I don’t know.”

“Besides, if you don’t take it and fall in love with me, won’t that mean that you’ll be…foresworn as you call it, anyway?”

He gave me a forbidding look.

“How dare you suggest such a thing?”

“When you made the bargain, you had no consort at all, let alone one you loved.

You’ve lied to this Dokkalfar king already.

After all, this king’s consort is dead at your hand, whether it was an accident or not.

Perhaps you should try to make it right. Do the right thing and suffer just a bit when your innocent consort is put to death over something you did.”

I truly thought he might strike me then, but he didn’t.

He simply sighed and sagged down in a chair.

“I suppose you make a point.”

He shook his head.

“Very well, I’ll take your damn love potion.

But I want the antidote too.”

“Of course.

Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

“Bring them to me for safekeeping as soon as you make them.

I’ll keep them until the time is right.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

Juul gave me a disgusted glance.

“Oh, don’t pretend now to be humble and accommodating, Pavel.

It’s far too late.

Now sit down over there and tell us this idea of yours that you will act as the king’s wizard. Supposing, of course, that you survive.”

Ouch.

Not surprising, I guess, that he was a little testy about things.

He was the king’s chief councilor after all, used to having his own way in most things.

“I made the bargain, and I’ll stand by it. If you ever have need of my…er…my wizarding skills, I’ll come at once.”

He looked at me a long time, and then he finally nodded.

Tarrak nodded.

“Very well.

And I’ll pay you your gold and refrain from harming the people of your village.”

“And the entire district is included in that too?”

He inclined his head, the corners of his mouth twitching a little.

He was only a little sarcastic as he replied in a voice that was supposed to sound like mine, I guess.

“Whatever you say.”

“And you’ll take my potion.”

“Yes, I’ll take your damn potion.”

“And if I die, you’ll provide for my brother.”

“I will,”

he said with a solemn tone.

“But I don’t want you to actually die.

You must use your magic to prevent your death if I’m not successful.”

“I’ll try,”

I said, feeling dubious about the situation.

But I leaned forward and held out my hand.

“Then let’s seal our bargain.”

He looked down at my hand and seemed confused, so I took his large, warm hand in mine and gripped it tightly, looking up at him.

“There,”

I said, shaking his hand up and down.

“We have made a bargain, you and I.

Freely offered…”

“And freely accepted.

Very well then.

It’s done.

Let’s go get back to our wedding.”

I turned triumphantly toward Juul and was surprised to see a strange look on his face.

What now? I asked him that very question as we walked out of the room the king had brought us to, but he didn’t reply.

Simply gave me furious look and turned his back on me.

Of course, I had no interest in whether or not the Dark Elf believed Tarrak’s subterfuge.

And I couldn’t care less if Tarrak was foresworn.

My only concern was to make King Tarrak fall so much in love with me that he couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice me to the Dark Elves.

That was my plan and uppermost in my mind.