Chapter 10
DINNER WITH THE ELF KING
Ahalf hour later, I was in my rooms with several elves scrubbing at my hands and feet. I yelped when the female at my feet scrubbed too close to my arches. Sweet Christmas, it tickled!
“Are you sure this is all necessary?” I asked Rafia who had become a proficient torturer.
She had maids whisking in and out with bowls of hot soapy water and jars of salves that smelled of fresh mint, avocado, raspberries.
They scrubbed and rubbed down my feet, massaged my arms and clipped my disgusting cuticles with skillful fervor as I laid out on my couch in quite an undignified manner.
It didn’t take long before I realized how much I loved the pampering. My body relaxed into the large pink floral couch, and I had to hide a sigh. I couldn’t let Rafia know how much I was enjoying this. but—oh my.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Rafia beamed a knowing smile. “These are my cousins.”
The four females with varying shades of pink hair smiled down at me and nodded.
“They do good.” Was all I could think to say. One of the females had my shoulders in a grip and relaxed my stress away with every massage.
“Your dressmaker will be Saphronia,” Rafia said. “Her schedule takes years to work into, but she has a curiosity when it comes to humans. But she is also my cousin, and she owes me.”
How many cousins did Rafia have?
“I really could use some new work dresses, too,” I added, not feeling guilty for one second. The king’s brother had authorized clothes, and I’d be crazy not to take advantage of the generosity. It was the least they could do for taking me away from my mother and sister.
I smiled when a pink-haired, full-figured female burst into the room followed by several other elves carrying bundles of dresses and fabrics. She looked almost as if she could be Rafia’s sister.
Saphronia fixed me with the full intensity of her pink eyes and clapped her hands. “Everyone out.”
With a jump, my massagers fled.
“Goodbye friends!” I called after them, sorry to see them leave. “Come back soon.”
I closed my eyes and reveled in perfect relaxation when Saphronia yanked on my hand.
“Up! Up!” Saphronia exclaimed. “We have only a few hours to get you presentable to dine with the Elf King. Let’s see what we have to work with.”
I stood on wobbly legs.
“Yes, she is quite lovely, Rafia. I can see the potential,” Saphronia said cheerily.
Heat colored my cheeks, and I smiled over at Rafia who nodded. I had no idea the elves would ever see me as lovely. I was pretty for a human. I knew that, but compared to the ethereal beauty of the elves, I looked like a plain human covered in wavy mud hair.
“Brooke,” Saphronia called. “Please take her measurements while I look through the gowns I brought. We’ll have to tailor what we have on hand, but after tonight, you’ll have your pick.”
A human woman peeked out behind a pile of dresses. I almost yelped in surprise. One of Saphronia’s servants was a human? Brooke was petite and quite fetching in her uniform with her glossy black hair in braids and russet-brown skin. She nodded to me and brought over a roll of measuring tape.
“Hello,” I said. “I haven’t met any other humans here besides the two I came with.”
Brooke squeezed my hand. “Hello, dear.” Then she began her measurements.
“How long have you been here?” I asked. “Are you a master of craft, too?”
I had about a million questions, but the doe-eyed woman just smiled. “I’ve been here five years.”
“And you are a dressmaker?” I asked.
I couldn’t believe my luck. Another human who’d been here and alive for five years. She looked healthy and confident in her place.
Pink colored her cheeks as she measured my arm lengths. “I am now, but I was brought here as a maiden.”
A maiden? The world almost tilted under me. I didn’t understand.
Just then, Saphronia sauntered up with two cream-colored dresses. “Yes, understated but refined. Try on this one first.”
I slipped my arm through the embroidered gown and pulled my head through the neck all while hardly taking my eyes off the woman. “But now you are a dressmaker?”
Brooke hung her head, her cheeks blushing more fully. I’d just started interacting with this woman, but I could already tell she was a quiet, timid sort.
Saphronia stepped in with a wave of her hand in a protective manner. “She doesn’t like to talk about those first years, dear. Better to just let her work.”
I had so many more questions for Brooke, but between the gown fitting and tailoring, we exchanged only a few words.
Anything I did get from her was information about her hometown, which she still did not take a very keen interest in.
Brooke looked as eager to leave as I was to have my questions answered.
The whole interaction left me more confused than ever.
But at least I had one mystery solved—what happened to maidens once the king grew tired of them? They were forced to be servants in the king’s household. It was the cruelest conclusion I could come to, which is what made it a perfect answer for the Elf King, or his father who came before him.
And I was being forced to have dinner with him tonight.
That did not mean I had to enjoy it.
Hours later, after lots of primping, fitting, and make up, I stepped into the large dining hall in my shimmering cream gown.
It was embroidered with tall antlers wrapped in flowers of pale pink and green.
My brown curls were left mostly down, a crown of pink flowers plaited across the top of my head.
The apple of my cheeks were painted a lovely pink and Saphronia had lined my eyes with kohl in an understated way.
Tall trees lined the white stone walls of the dining hall. The leaves glowed with the same bursts of red and oranges of autumn as if they grew through the stone floor. Maybe they did.
Birds chirped; mushrooms grew on the moss below. The table itself was an enormous tree that had been sawed in half and laid in the center of the room. It was polished to a bright shine, its branches trimmed to allow for seats.
The Elf King sat at the head of the table. His bodyguard, the elf with the blonde braids and gilded weapons, stood several paces behind him. Both pairs of eyes turned to me as I approached.
The king stood.
My heart pounded in my chest as I tentatively walked into the room. You were invited. Act like you belong.
I remained standing with my hands firmly in front of me. Don’t twist, don’t squirm. Just smile and be polite, serve the tarts and get out as quickly as possible. They didn’t expect me to actually eat with them, right?
“It seems we have a dinner guest.” The king said through tight teeth, “I was informed mere moments ago.”
“I had little warning myself.” My face burned with embarrassment and…anger.
How could I dine with this male? The one who’d stolen me from home not two days before? It was all so wrong. Was I to stand here and be scrutinized all while railing and screaming at the injustice on the inside?
I bowed to the king, not sure what else to do.
The king inclined his head. His eyes followed my every move.
He stared as if he wasn’t truly aware he was staring at me.
So, I did the only thing I knew to do. Stare back.
My eyes met his, and though his eyes pierced me through the heart, I would not back down.
A thick tension filled the air. Electric.
Currents pulsated under my skin as if that same kind of magic bound us. That thread I’d felt before.
“Yes!” Aldaar seemed to appear from out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. “This is Noelle, the baker from the human realm. She is amazing and beautiful and smart. She let me chop the apples for the tarts. Brother, you are going to love them. We made them special!”
The king seemed to notice our little staring contest or that strange energy—either way, he turned his eyes from me, cleared his throat and said. “I am honored.”
Honored? What was I supposed to do with that?
Aldaar clung to my arm and beamed proudly.
I flushed at the strange tension I’d felt, but turned my attention to a much safer place, sweet Aldaar.
He gestured excitedly to the mincemeat tarts Rafia had brought up earlier.
They lay artfully on the back table beside a log glowing with mushrooms. I smiled to myself at my little secret Christmas rebellion.
“Here is your seat, my lady.” Aldaar led me to the gilded chair right next to the Elf King at the head of the table.
My smile dropped; heat filled my face. Anywhere but here, please. The king must have felt my agitation, so of course he smiled. A feral, frightening smile that caused my insides to turn to molten fire.
“Thank you,” I chirped. My voice was at least two octaves too high. “I am very grateful to be here.”
I most certainly would rather be crying in my rooms.
I lifted my skirts and sat as primly as I could, right next to the Elf King and his ridiculous glare and his bodyguard’s glimmering knives in the back of the room. Aldaar plopped beside me, and before I knew it, the meal began.
Servants brought out steaming dishes of cooked bird, jellies, and leafy green salads covered in pears and cream.
“I ordered something I knew you humans liked to eat,” Aldaar said proudly as he took his first bite. “A partridge, but I didn’t think a pear tree would be good to eat, so we just have pears.”
I smiled at the kind gesture, confused. “Yes, that is a reference to one of our old folksongs. How do you know of it?”
“I read it in a book somewhere. About the twelve days of Christmas.” Aldaar popped another piece of partridge in his mouth. “Some of the days are quite strange.”
“They sure are.” I tucked an errant strand of brown curls behind my ear.
I didn’t know what the elves thought of Christmas.
I’d always heard they hated the holiday, that it was best not to mention it in front of them.
So, I didn’t press the matter any further.
I avoided the king’s gaze at all costs, though he seemed intent to burn me with it from afar.
“This Christmas is such a strange obsession with the humans.” The Elf King whirled his spoon. “I’ve often wondered why it is so beloved.”
I kept my eyes down and my mouth shut, feeling the eyes of the two males on me. He hadn’t asked a question, so I took another bite of the delicious pears and cream and pretended not to be there.
“Yes, please, Noelle,” Aldaar cooed. “Why the jingle bells and sleigh rides and walnuts roasting by a campfire and stuff?”
I smiled at sweet Aldaar matching the king’s fond smile. His cold eyes even seemed to twinkle and warm. So much like my affection for Daisy in that tender glance.
“Christmas is…” I started.
“Christmas is a foolish human holiday where they worship a large frumpy man who jumps from house to house delivering sweeties.” The Elf King smiled to himself in an infuriatingly smug way.
“Nobody worships Father Christmas.” I huffed. “He’s a myth, a legend. One that we are quite fond of.”
“He sounds wonderful,” Aldaar said dreamily. “I love sweeties.”
“He is a symbol of good will. Of good tidings and peace to all mankind.” I finished.
“And what of our kind?” The Elf King’s eyes pinned me to the spot. “Do we elves deserve your good will or are we nothing to this Christmas?”
“Of course—” I started. Aldaar deserved all the good will and peace, but this king who stole me away from my family?
The elf who watched my father die right before his eyes without a single spark of empathy?
Without even trying to use his magic? Did they deserve it? Anger filled me. No, they did not.
“Do you think human lives are of more worth than the lives of elves?” the king asked forcefully.
I reeled. “You stole me away from my little sister, my mother. You felt you had a right to do so.” I twisted the napkin in my lap. “All to make you little sweeties, and then you reject them. What does that say of you?”
The King’s gold eyes narrowed. “It says that I am your king, and you must do as I command.”
I stood from the table, anger rushing through me as surely as a storm.
“You have your little brother to dote upon. But what of my sister? She is not yet four years old. I will be a strange memory for her from now on, thanks to you and your insufferable pride. And for what? Some kind of supposed magic that I do not possess? You are a petty, selfish tyrant and I will play no part in your twisted games.”
I pushed back from the table in one swift motion, not quite understanding what I was doing. The fury poured from me like boiling soup from a ladle, and I wanted to say more. To scream, to fight with the Elf King, yet Rafia’s strange warnings held me back.
Instead, I turned from him, from his surprised brother and ran from the dining hall as fast as my shoes could carry me.
Which wasn’t far. I kicked off those terrible dainty devices as I ran. I passed by room after room, makeup and tears running down my face as I cried. My bare feet followed a path I did not know, and before too long, I found myself in the cool embrace of the gilded palace gardens.
I ran out into the dark night, my breath a cloud. Thorns from rose bushes tore at my dress, but still I ran on. How dare he insinuate that I cared for humans more than elves when he so clearly felt the other way around? Hypocrite. Monster.
Hot air puffed before me as I choked back the tears. I followed one unknown path after another. Gemstone lanterns fuzzed in my sight. The air smelled of freesia and frost. Chirping crickets and barking frogs sounded from all directions in a magical choir.
This place was so beautiful, enchanting, yet—wrong. Its cold beauty held no comfort for me.
I fell onto a cold wooden bench and growled in frustration, tears streaming from my face.
How could the Elf King be so cold? What did he want from me?
I pounded my fists on the bench, which broke up the sounds of the night enough for me to realize—they’d all gone silent. Where were the humming of frogs and singing of the night insects? It was as if I had a ball of cotton stuffed in my ears.
That was when I felt it; a tingle down my spine. The eyes of someone watching me, hunting me. I strained for the trace of any sound, for the sight of anyone, when a low growl ground out between the ear-splitting silence.