3. The Mist Thief
Chapter 3
“That was foolish of you.” Cara draped one of my newly styled plaits over my shoulder. “What were you thinking? Ruffians, vagabonds, and the worst sort of men keep to places as that. You are fortunate we’ve decided to keep it from the king. Gods know, he has enough to fret about tonight than if his own kin will humiliate him.”
It was not the first lecture I’d endured from the woman, nor would it be the last.
Cara had overseen my education and etiquette since my youngest turns and was made of more steel than most. Firmly devoted to propriety, she was never one to shy away from telling me if I had stepped out of line.
Tonight, it seemed less about propriety and more like she might’ve been truly worried over my absence.
“I wanted to be alone, Cara. Nothing more.”
She let out a puff of air through her slender nose and swiped some of her pale hair back into the stern knot behind her neck.
The woman was voluptuous and lovely, in a terrifying sort of way. More than one royal guard shuddered beneath the heat of Cara’s scrutiny.
“Remember to speak only when spoken to, be pleasant, and gods all, show some gratitude they are not planning to overthrow our folk. They’re a frightening sort of magics.”
Unbidden, my knee bounced. I scanned a small scrap of pale rice paper with a neat scrawl, a gift from the queen of the sea fae after she was informed of the pending alliance with the alvers.
Queen Livia had taken to the trouble of writing out odd names used to classify the different magics in my future clans.
It was a small thing to offer, and I suspected she would be willing to give up more, but I was keen to avoid folk most days. While in the sea fae palace, I rarely left the rooms I was afforded to use.
Still, I had studied at length the small scrap of knowledge until the edges were creased and tattered.
Alvers took their affinities from shifts in the body—the rush of blood, the race of a heart, the senses, the response to pain—and each power had strange titles.
Mediskis were the healers, able to spur the body’s natural healing processes at a swifter rate.
Profetiks were otherworldly with their senses: sight, hearing, some could even taste the guilt of a lie or poison when they drew near enough.
Hypnotiks took power from the mind and thought, controlling or tricking folk with illusions. Elixists were fierce alchemists, poisoners, and potion masters.
Rifters were frightening, alvers who found power in reactions to pain. They could snap bones, slash flesh, break necks.
Then Anomali alvers took from the emotions of the heart—fear, hope, even nostalgia—but their magic was always unknown with how powerful it might be.
Almost like mine.
“Frightful.” Cara clucked over my shoulder.
I folded the scrap and tucked it away, unaware she’d been reading as she finished the braid.
“They must not be so frightful if they have such allies with the other fae kingdoms,” I said.
Cara frowned, like she might want to say something more, but held her tongue. It wouldn’t be proper to speak ill of a future ally.
Where Cara would think the gifts of alver folk as dreary, it almost sparked a bit of hope they would not despise my own darkness as fiercely as others. Not that I would ever reveal to them the depths of my mists that could steal away lands, armies, even life.
I was to be silent and mistrusted in my new house. It would not be so different from the home I’d always known.
Gold hinges on the thick, wooden doors groaned and opened. King Eldirard entered the room. He was not my blood grandfather, but he’d raised me like I was born of his house.
When he smiled, the lines of age showed beneath the silver stubble on his strong jaw. His pale hair was smooth and long over his shoulders, kept off his brow by a bronze, spiked circlet.
Despite the annoyance of the evening, my heart leapt in relief at the sight of him.
“Skadinia. It is good to lay eyes on you.”
“You as well, Grandfather.” I entered the corridor at his side and tapped the herbs wrapped around his neck, frowning. “Why do you agree to wear these?”
A necklace of pungent herbs was around my own neck. A spell from the witches of the sea, a way to dull the magic in the blood.
“It eases fears, Granddaughter.” He patted my cheek. “Once the alliance is signed, there will be no need for them not to trust us.”
This alliance was wretched.
Dokkalfar and Ljosalfar craved alliances and deals and treaties. There was a strange draw to them, to grow more powerful through the cleverest deals. It was the way of the elven folk, and had merely become a game of who crafted the best outcomes through the centuries.
Our people were laden in tradition and trade arrangements that stretched back to the time of lore.
“I’ve missed you since you returned to Natthaven.” I slipped my hand through his arm when he led us from the chamber and into the corridor.
“And I you.” My grandfather studied my features. “You seem less in the dark.”
My affinity locked me in coldness when used for greed or cruelty. Prince Arion did not invade the elven isle of Natthaven to use my ability for anything gentle.
For weeks after, I found a bit of comfort remaining in the cold of indifference. Reality was not as painful when a heart and soul could not summon a reason to care.
“I am a little better.” I kept my responses stiff, desperate to keep a few barriers in place lest I break under the truth—I was terrified.
My grandfather paused before we stepped into the doorway of the great hall. “Skadinia, you are to keep any reservations for this union to yourself, understood? This is an opportunity to grow the Dokkalfar throne and strengthen our forces with other affinities. If it all goes well, everyone will get what they want.”
The magic of familial bonds through elven blood was strange, but powerful.
The king winked. “Even Gerard, aggravated as he is with losing our previous alliance, sees the merit. Although, he would rather the elven claim fae realms without fae on the throne.”
I arched a brow. “The king of the Ljosalfar does not have claim to any fae realm, Grandfather. This alliance is for our clan.”
“It is. My line will be written in the sagas as the first to bond a kingdom of fae with elven.”
I nodded in compliance. In truth, that was what Eldirard desired most—a legacy. He had never sired an heir with his many mistresses over the centuries of his life, and lost hope until he took in a girl living in the trees.
With my wretched affinity he had something clever, new, and powerful. A new chance for his line to go down in the glorious histories of our folk. Elven were a proud people, always looking for the next move to strengthen the power and legacy of the clan.
This was the reason both elven kings once desired a betrothal with me and Prince Arion. Two powerful rulers joined as one over the two clans had not been done for centuries.
Arion was stronger than his father with his affinity to summon light; he could draw enough that it burned holes in the fabric between walls and doors. The light prince could literally walk through his magic from place to place. With my darkness, our vows would’ve crafted an unprecedented union.
I studied the profile of my grandfather. A greedy gleam lived in his blue gaze. This new direction was perhaps more enticing to him, for there were no tales of elven clans ever uniting with other kingdoms of magics.
There was no part of me that desired this vow, but because of Eldirard, I was skilled with a blade, I could read languages in fae, mortal, and ancient elvish. I had been nurtured and fed and given a home.
I tightened my hold on his arm. “I won’t disappoint you.”
The sea fae palace was wide and open. Most rooms had grand, arched beams framing the ceiling, and wrought iron chandeliers speckled in moss from the damp air carried endless tallow candles with strange blue fire.
From a raised dais to one side, the Ever King and Queen stood. The sea king kept his familiar venom. His harsh, fiery eyes flashed in mistrust, but the queen held my gaze, even offered a gentle smile.
I looked away. Our brief interaction during the battles did not mean I mattered to fae folk. I’d do well to remember they were not truly pleased with me being here.
I was in this palace as a pawn of war to be played for their benefit, not mine.
As hosts of the negotiations, the sea folk would observe, but that was the extent of their role.
Attention went to the long, black oak table in the center of the hall. Blue satin ran the length, and decanters of wine and amber ale were arranged with drinking horns of all sizes.
Inside, my heart beat like it might be trying to snap free of my ribs. Outside, my face was as ice—cold and biting.
The steward ushered my grandfather to one side of the table. There, already seated, were several of his guards. Elven folk were all lean and lithe warriors. Dokkalfar were diverse in their skin tones, but most of the shadow elven boasted some shade of blue to their eyes. Some rich and royal, others like Cara, so shockingly pale it looked like the irises were frosted.
The guards rose to greet their king. Gold hilts with black onyx stones marked their blades, all symbols of the inner Natthaven court.
Differences between us and the alver clans were stark. Without the chaos of battle and the numbness of my affinity shadowing my thoughts, each opposite trait was clear.
Alvers looked mortal, their ears oddly curved. They did not keep their hair silken and long over the shoulders like elven warriors. Instead, rugged knots and braids were styled in their hair, and a few wiry beards covered chins.
Men and women stood behind the table, dressed in furs and leather, tunics without a distinct emblem, and wore scuffed, sturdy boots.
Were they guards? They seemed to be trying to look the part, but appeared more assassin than anything.
None of the strange assassin-guards were as intimidating as the gazes studying—no memorizing—my every movement.
The alver king and queen and the two princes.
One of their sons nearly fell beneath my blade, and now I would be vowed to the other.
The sea queen wove her fingers together, a show of nerves, or perhaps Livia felt as suffocated by the tension as me.
“King Eldirard, Skadi”—she dipped her chin toward me—“Allow me to introduce House Eriksson.”
“We’ve met, Livie,” said my nightmare prince. With his strong jaw, his chestnut hair, tied half up on the sides, he appeared so different than his ruse as a drunkard. “But I suppose she ought to meet her future in-laws.”
I schooled my face into stony indifference, but faced the king and queen as though it were simply an instinct.
The king was a handsome man, but his jaw pulsed with untamed rage. His hair was dark as soil after rain and his eyes were a collision of gold and emerald, as though molten ore spilled in through one side and stained the true shade.
The queen was pale with a dust of freckles over her nose and hair like a crimson flame. She combed her eyes over me, taking me in, a groove of concern on her brow.
Wise to be worried with a woman like me joining her house.
“Let us get this over with.” The alver king’s voice was rough and low. Direct, no disguising his disgust.
Doubtless they did not approve of such a bloodline as mine uniting with their precious son. I was inclined to agree.
The queen placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Have it known this was not our decision and we are against it.”
My grandfather scoffed. “Alliances bring peace and power. Together, we will achieve that. Skadinia has accepted her burden, and I was under the belief your son took the burden for reasons much the same.”
Burden. The title every bride yearned to be given for her vows.
“My son is being an ass.” The alver king shot a glare at the prince.
I bit down against a sudden urge to snort a laugh. The outburst was hardly regal, yet entirely sincere. Perhaps this king was not so furious at me and my elven blood, and more irked at his son for causing this alliance at all.
A guard handed me to my seat, across from the prince. Gods, I hated him. He was one of the most entrancing men I’d ever seen.
After this, he would be the hero in the end. He would claim to be the bold, brave prince who kept a monster from the hands of a shared foe.
I’d known my life was fated for such a loveless, purposeful match long before fae rose against us. The only stipulation that might’ve kept me from Arion was if he forced me into a cold heart by using my affinity for cruelty.
I had to be free of my darkness to agree to the match with the Ljosalfar prince.
With this alver alliance, there’d never been a choice offered to me.
Once my grandfather was seated beside me, he drummed his fingers, focus on the king. “Do your reservations stem from my granddaughter’s actions against your other son during the siege?”
I dipped my chin, awaiting their rage.
It was the queen who spoke. “It is more toward the nature of obligation, the lack of choice they seem to feel.”
“Maj.” The prince leaned onto the table, eyeing his mother. “We’ve discussed this. There were no destined vows in my future, never were. An alliance is reason enough to take them.”
“Yes, I’ve heard your reasoning, but your heart was not the only one I was considering.”
Breath froze in my lungs. My brows tugged together. Me? A woman who ought to desire my throat slit for disrupting the lives of both her sons had considered this vow might rob me of a true love match?
My grandfather chuckled. “Kind of you, Highness, but there are no suitors for Skadinia in our clans.”
His laughter stung, as though the notion of anyone seeking my heart for anything other than political alliances was nonsensical.
“Prince Arion of the Ljosalfar was the only one. I found your son’s offer more tempting, and there must be an offer.” My grandfather sniffed with a bit of condescension. “Without a royal vow, elven customs do not allow the throne to pass to a lone sovereign who is not of royal blood. Skadinia is an adopted limb within my line. Without a match from a blood royal, she cannot be a lone queen of our clan and it will naturally fall to the inheritance of the light elves. I assure you, when Arion claims the power, he will be inclined to finish his quest. He will meet your shores again.”
“Why was this bastard’s head not taken?” asked the alver king. “The way I see it, you let him scurry away to his comfortable little palace.”
A muscle jumped in my grandfather’s jaw. “Battle is how an elven king ascends the throne in our culture. He failed in his battle against you, but did nothing against our laws, aggravating as it was.”
Battles were more than aggravating. I hadn’t expected to leave them alive.
“It’s a foolish custom,” the king said, voice low and sharp. “And it makes no sense why the burden was left for her to shoulder.”
I studied my palms, befuddled at the sudden urge to stand beside the alver king in solidarity. My thoughts exactly, Highness. My thoughts exactly.
“Because she is the coveted prize. I have spoken of my granddaughter’s affinity before.” Eldirard sat back in the chair. “It is beautiful in many ways, but more so it is frightening, dangerous, and vicious. She could drag your household, your sons, the magic in your veins, and send them into the void of her darkness until the final wars of the gods.”
Hells, I wanted the floor to split open and devour me.
“That all?” The alver king said, almost disappointed.
“Is . . . is that all?” My grandfather’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You do not find that formidable?”
“I do. I’m merely waiting to hear why everyone speaks about the girl like she ought to be in chains.”
It would be wise to keep the mask of coldness on my features, but the damn king was making it rather difficult. If he spoke again, I might leap across the table and embrace him until he went red in the face.
I expected fear from my future clan. They hardly seemed impressed by the dangers from my affinity.
Eldirard cleared his throat. “As it stands, Prince Arion is set to inherit Natthaven as the heir. If Skadinia does not have a king at her side before my death, Arion will be her king. Every elven king is considered kin to his subjects. Her affinity will be loyal to his desires.”
“Seems unfair.” The queen was the one who spoke. “She was adopted into your royal house, now pays a price.”
“Naturally, it was not part of the plan for Arion to invade our isle and cause turmoil,” Eldirard said, a little disgruntled. “Kinship bonds are part of our affinities, and Skadinia’s will be yours through this vow; her power could not be used against you. The Ljosalfar will not have the warriors or strength to stand against you without our clan. I believe their king sees the greater opportunity in aligning with the fae, rather than fighting them.”
“You assume he does,” said the alver queen. “And we’re not fae.”
“Forgive me, I mean the whole of the fae realms. Your connections with all the kingdoms are expansive, and now you will have the alliance of elven. A first.” The glee written in my grandfather’s features was not shared by the alver folk. Eldirard sobered. “If her lack of choice is your concern, I assure you our contracts must always hold a touch of willingness, a desire to see them through, a bit of choice, or they will not seal correctly. Skadinia is here because of her desire to see her people at peace.”
I studied a divot in the table. Part of it was true; I didn’t want trouble for the Dokkalfar clan. Perhaps it was selfish, but I wished my heart was not the sacrifice needed to ensure such a thing. I wished this meet was an alliance founded in love, trust, and passionate anticipation.
When I dared look at the prince, his face was hardened.
There was no heart in this deal. I’d be wise to remember it.
Prince Jonas leaned forward. “The merit of the union remains, and we understand the risks of what might happen should it not proceed. Now, allow my mother and father to see your terms.”