Chapter 50 The Serpent #2
“It can. After so long, cruel uses will leave her practically heartless.” He gave her an affectionate look. “But I’m confident this one will fade. I hear she was rather emotional when she thought the attackers would kill me.”
“Emotional?” Jonas said, voice dark and low. “She nearly killed my brother.”
The woman tilted her head, facing the prince. “You were trespassing.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Jonas.” Sander hushed him. “I’m not sure she can help it right now.”
“She cannot,” Eldirard said. “The darkness she used to move Natthaven for the battle of a greedy prince pulled her back a great deal. Not to mention how she was forced to destroy a bond of love.”
“It destroyed nothing,” I said through my teeth, taking Livia’s hand in mine with more vigor.
“Arion didn’t want her to fade, not too much at least,” Livia said. “I heard him telling Larsson not to push too fiercely.”
“Selfish reasons.” Eldirard sniffed. “She must be clearheaded in her acceptance to take vows with him.”
“I don’t understand why Skadi is not set to inherit your lands,” Livia said. “Tell me you are not afraid of queens like sea fae once were.”
I kissed her knuckles.
“No, My Lady,” said Eldirard. “Queens have filled our histories since ice and fire first collided in the Ginnungagap void.”
They spoke of old lore regarding the creations of the realms of folk. Elven culture was strange, yet familiar.
“Then why is your granddaughter not the heir?” Mira was the one to ask.
“She is not my blood,” Eldirard said. He placed a loving hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“Skadinia was orphaned as a wee girl. I found her rummaging the market streets, took to her spirit, and brought her to the palace where she has lived as a royal ever since.” The old man dropped his chin.
“More than Natthaven, Arion seeks my granddaughter.”
“You don’t inherit granddaughters,” I said.
“Skadinia belongs to Natthaven. She will belong to Arion.”
“That’s barbaric,” Livia insisted. “Skadi, it’s true?”
The woman lifted her eyes, blue pools of . . . cold. “The king of the light clan arranged betrothal agreements the first turn I was brought to the palace. I’ve grown knowing one day my life would be bound to the Ljosalfar.”
“As I said, he needs her clearheaded. If Skadinia has no heart, she would not care to agree to the vows he wishes to make—her, as his wife,” the old man explained.
“Another binding agreement I made with his father. The boy inherits my clan, but he does not simply get Skadinia as his wife unless she agrees.”
“He cares that much about making her his wife?” I shook my head, there was more to it.
“Yes.” The old man sneered. “He wants to control her affinity. With enough strength, Skadinia can devour lands, steal them away. Arion wishes to conquer, expand his kingdom, and he cannot do it without her.”
The woman was a damn weapon.
I narrowed my eyes. “How can you be so certain he won’t return for her?”
“I hope his father will hold him to account, at least for a time. But there is only one guarantee that my granddaughter’s affinity will never belong to Arion.”
“Explain,” I snapped.
There was little trust to be had between these elven and my house. Livia, her goodness, wanted a chance for these folk. If it were up to me, they would be holed away beneath the palace and forgotten.
Heartless by choice or not, I was not a forgiving man. The woman had nearly killed Sander, and all I could think was if the prince had died, it would’ve shattered Livia’s heart.
Eldirard cleared his throat, one hand still protectively on Skadi’s shoulder. “As I said, our abilities are loyal to our kin. To take vows would make her his kin, and her affinity would never fight against him. In fact, it might even bow to his demands.”
That drew my attention. “Yet you said there was a way to prevent this.”
The elven woman let out a sigh and turned away.
Her grandfather did not share her despondency and nodded.
“If she takes on different kin before he has the chance.” The old elven crossed one leg over his knee, fingers drumming along the handles of his chair.
“Not a simple solution, since the betrothal bond was already written. It would need to be a marital vow of equal title. A royal vow.”
“I don’t care for how you’re looking at me, old man.”
“I am looking at the king. A royal,” Eldirard said.
Livia sat straighter, dropped one hand to my leg, squeezing possessively. “The Ever King has a queen.”
Gods, the dark, silky threat in her voice.
Never would I tire of being the desire of Livia Ferus.
To know, after so many turns of being unwanted, she would go to bleeding war to keep me?
I leaned over and pressed my mouth to the side of her neck.
A promise, a threat, a need, that spoke of how I would devour her later.
I rose from my throne and approached the two elven.
“I have no answer for your dilemma. But, despite the woman nearly killing one of our own, she also protected my queen, so here is what I can offer her—refuge until that frosty heart starts beating again. Refuge from this bastard of a prince. You, King, of course, will also sign a treaty of peace that your clan will never rise against the Ever.”
“Refuge?” Eldirard looked uneasy. “You mean for her to remain here?”
“If you mean what you say, I doubt this prince will accept defeat for long. We can offer refuge. I don’t trust her, so she’ll be ordered to wear the herbs and dull her affinity until we find we do trust her. If we find we trust her.”
The king stood, half a head shorter than me, but formidable all the same. “She is a lady of Natthaven, a princess, and you would have me leave her here like a caged hound?”
“No one said anything about cages, but if you wish to, I certainly will.” I curled my lip. “Let us not forget what I said—she nearly killed one of our own. If it were up to me, I’d cage her. Good thing for you, my queen is more forgiving.”
Skadi stood, hands clasped in front of her body. “If you allow my grandfather to return to our folk, I will stay.”
“Skadinia.”
“It is fair, Grandfather.” Her voice did not shift, did not strain. “I am regretful for harming a prince, but I did so to protect my own, like you protected yours.” She turned her gaze to the old man. “What does it matter? I feel nothing about the agreement, either way.”
Eldirard growled in the back of his throat. “You’ve been in the dark too long, girl.”
“Yes.” She looked back to me. “I will accept your refuge.”
She was frigid, almost a walking corpse.
“If that is all,” she went on, “I would like to begin my solitude, and my grandfather will need to be returning to Natthaven soon. Our people have need of their king.”
Without waiting for a dismissal, Skadi turned away, chin lifted, until two guards met her at the door. Upon my slow nod, they led her out of the hall.
“I will sign your treaties.” Eldirard sighed but dipped his chin in a subtle genuflect. “Your fairness is appreciated. I will not forget it.”
I rubbed my chin and returned to my throne. The earth bender, too, watched the old man follow the woman out of the hall with a dark glower. There was more to the elven. They were a powerful people, no mistake, and might continue to be a risk.
“You’re going to have Gavyn follow them for all time, aren’t you?” Livia whispered.
I smirked. “Among others.”
Livia traced the peaks and valleys of my knuckles for a moment, hesitating. “Do you believe them when they speak of kin magic? It seemed true. Arion didn’t truly harm Eldirard. Not until those last desperate moments.”
I rested my cheek on the claw of my hand, glaring at the door where they’d left. “I’m certain Sander will not rest until he knows every detail, but if that is so, then I won’t trust them. I have no vow to offer to make her kin.”
My hand curled around her fingers, and I drew them to my lips.
Livia sighed. “There is more to Skadi. I just don’t know what.”
True enough. There was a gnawing in my belly, a twist of a dull blade, as though somewhere inside believed a blade was exactly what the elven woman might become one day.