4. The Nightmare Prince
Chapter 4
Eldirard wore a smug kind of grin on his thin lips. From beneath his tunic, the elven king removed a gold chain. On one end was a wooden vial with gilded, painted runes on the sides.
No larger than my smallest finger, yet when the king tapped the top of the opened vial, as he pulled his finger away, a slender roll of parchment followed.
The thickness of the scroll grew the farther from the vial it became, and when removed completely, a fully formed scroll, sealed in blue wax, was delivered to my father by an elven guard.
“How the hells?” Sander leaned forward, reaching a hand for the enchanted parchment, but I pressed my fist over his heart.
I shook my head, holding him back.
With a curl to his lip, Sander slouched in his chair. There was little that could draw out my brother’s petulance, but refusing to let his curiosity be free was the swiftest way to see it done.
His movement tore me from my deliberate focus and I made the mistake of looking across the table.
Gods, why did she have to look as she did—like the first crystal star in the night, an untouchable jewel.
The princess had glowing, rich skin, slightly darker than mine, and eyes so blue they nearly glowed. She was slender, but not brittle. The woman had the power of darkness. The strange murky magic that coated her palms stole lands and fierce curses.
The princess could steal entire men and armies into the void of her dark mists.
Dark mesmer—the magic of alver clans—was not a foreign notion. In truth, there weren’t many alver folk I knew who didn’t have some level of wickedness in their hearts. The princess was as formidable as them all, and this union was to keep her darkness from the hands of our shared enemies, nothing more.
It would make it all simpler if my damn heart didn’t quicken when she looked my way and my cock would stop twitching every time she shifted, offering more glimpses of what curves she hid under that dull gown.
I didn’t understand it; my body rarely flared with heat in the veins and a desire for skin to touch skin, unless a woman made it clear she wanted the same.
Never had the elven princess offered a glimpse she felt anything but repulsion for me, and here I was imagining what her bleeding hair might smell like if I leaned a little closer.
I thought I hated her a little for it.
Lust and passion were no strangers. From the first time I stole away to the grove near my palace and discovered what it felt like to settle between a pair of thighs, I delighted in warming my nights with women.
Livia and Mira called me a charming rake. Aleksi always agreed with Sander that I would father half a dozen littles with half a dozen women one day.
I wouldn’t. I’d taken herbs to prevent littles since I was a lanky boy of sixteen.
Intentions were made clear whenever I took a lover for the night. Farewells and a few tender kisses were traded when it was over, and I was always left the same—knowing they tangled their bodies with mine because of my title.
Exactly as I preferred it.
Few would know me, the man. My friends, the other kings and queens of the fae realms, my brother, my parents and their guild that stood at their backs now, knew me. There was no purpose for anyone else to do the same.
Hence, the reason this vow was ideal.
A princess with her own title who cared little for me would not be searching for my heart to make her a queen. In fact, I was quite certain she was disgusted by the sight of me. She kept lifting her eyes, then promptly looking away, a grimace on her face.
After the vows, I doubted we’d have need to speak much to each other at all. She would keep her isle safe from the light clan, and my life would be mostly unchanged save for the new assurance elven armies would not come against those I loved most.
I leaned back, creating a bit more distance between us.
My father slyly handed the scroll to my mother without glancing at it. I feigned disinterest as she began to read out loud.
“For a dowry, each turn we’re afforded trade supplies and ten thousand”—Maj squinted, stumbling over a new term—“juvel?”
“Our coin. Made from black gems of Natthaven. Rather valuable, I imagine, in foreign lands.”
More than one of the recovering thieves behind us shifted.
Raum, the most restless cutpurse of them all, flashed his silver eyes with a greedy thrill until Niklas stopped tossing his leather pouch of—no doubt—something poisonous, and smacked his shoulder.
“No.” Niklas jabbed a finger between them, voice barely over a whisper. “No moves until the deal is done.”
Nik had always been like an uncle to me and Sander, studious as my brother and sly as my father. He told Raum to stop, but I had few doubts he was already thinking of a dozen ways he could make this dowry the most profitable trade in our kingdom.
The truth was everyone who’d sailed with us was here out of mere intrigue and a chance to scout the Ever Kingdom.
I was half convinced my father planned to rob Bloodsinger’s treasury before the return home.
My mother read on. Dull terms about implied treaties and councils to be had with the bride’s kingdom once a turn as part of the alliance. Focus waned, and I studied a chip in the table’s edge for a long pause until she made a strangled sound between a grunt and a gasp.
“What is this term of dissolution if the bride is unfaithful?”
One of Eldirard’s brows lifted. “Which part is unclear?”
“Well, you see, my confusion comes from the term below that states any heirs born to my son’s mistresses would not be considered for the throne, only legitimate heirs.” My mother’s face was flushed. A look I knew well from the many times I’d pushed her to the limits of her patience as a boy. “Forgive me, I’m simply curious, why is it implied my son will have mistresses?”
Eldirard chuckled, like my mother was losing her mind, even made the mistake of looking to my father for support. His smile faded at once when Daj returned it with a deep-set scowl.
The princess lowered her chin until I was certain it was melded to her chest.
Eldirard cleared his throat. “Is a future king not a powerful figure? Mistresses are expected, are they not?”
“They are not.” My father’s fist curled over the table. He pinned me in his glare, mutely repeating his statement.
The elven king looked befuddled. “I have never known a king who does not have a mistress.”
Livia snorted in disgust on the dais, whispering something to Bloodsinger. By the feral gleam in the Ever King’s gaze, she likely threatened to cut off his cock should he dare do such a thing. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck in response.
My father leaned forward, voice rough. “You do now.”
With a huff, my mother went on. “We will ignore that clause and continue.”
The princess watched, brow furrowed, as though she didn’t quite know if she believed my mother’s stance. A jab of guilt dug under my ribs. Did she anticipate women flaunted in front of her face, with no regard for her feelings or station?
My knee bounced under the table. Hadn’t I anticipated doing exactly that? Take vows, then return to life as I’d always known it, new lovers while my wife slept in the chamber beside mine.
Gods. I might very well be a piece of shit.
This was not a love match, so if she preferred to take lovers, why would I stop her?
I settled back in my chair. After the vows, I would tell her she was not expected to be lonely in some tower.
The more I paid attention to the terms of the vow contract, the more I felt like a fiend to my future bride. Terms like, no beatings that caused permanent damage, no refusals were allowed should I come to my wife for her body. I named all future littles; I approved of her hobbies and travel.
There were a few conditions on me. The vows were to be held on Natthaven, but we would live in my kingdom for ten turns, giving my new wife the opportunity to learn her husband’s culture. Then, the next ten would be spent in her realms (alone or with me) for her studies to be a queen of elven.
For the first turn, we would slip into the shared lands by spending one week on the elven isle where I would be expected to report to the Dokkalfar king of my approval or disapproval of the alliance, then, the rest of the month was spent in alver lands.
I was not permitted to ignore her completely. Every full moon we were required to share a bed from dusk until dawn—for the best chance of providing Natthaven with an heir, of course—and I was to give my wife an allowance she could spend at her leisure.
What a grand alliance she was making. It was no wonder her eyes were dull and emotionless.
My shoulders slumped, each term a lash on my spine. Of the two parties, it was not me who sacrificed here.
All I wanted was safety for my people.
For the first time I considered my good intent might have caused more of a disaster in this woman’s life. Then again, the same terms would be offered up to that light elven sod. He would likely hold her to each one.
When my mother finished, she rolled the scroll again, and slid it to the center of the table.
“Perhaps the king would like to read now,” Eldirard said.
“My wife read it.” Daj narrowed his gaze. “What more could I learn?”
“To ensure nothing was missed.”
“Do you think she is incompetent?”
Gods, Daj’s temper was flaring. Insult my mother and he was prone to bones and blood.
“Of course not, but . . . well, you are the king.” Eldirard straightened.
A haze of black clouded over my father’s eyes. Much like mine could blot out until nothing but darkness coated my gaze, so could my father.
He pointed a finger at the poised elven king. “There’s something you should understand, the only reason I have my title is because I am her husband. She is the blood heir of our lands, and you will stop speaking down to her, or you will not leave this room in one piece.”
“Daj, we’re trying to stop bloodshed,” Sander muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched, holding back a grin.
“Are you able to accept those terms?” Daj cocked his head. “I do not know what kings are like in your land, but in ours, we do not silence our queens.”
On the dais, Livia grinned with affection toward my father. She’d been raised much the same. It was all we’d known—fathers who loved our mothers—and a strange wash of shame and pride collided like a barbed knot in my chest.
Pride was in no short supply for the way my father treated my mother, the way he taught us to treat her. Yet, I’d arrived here with dismissive thoughts toward a woman I planned to give the same title—my wife.
“I accept.” Eldirard sniffed. “Who will be signing? It will require a drop of blood.”
Both my parents removed their hands and pulled away, their silent protest that they did not agree with any notion of an arranged vow.
Silence fell over the table until the weight of it bent my spine. This was the moment I planned for and dreaded, all at once.
Thoughts whirled, but no matter which direction they took, it all came back to the fact—Princess Skadinia had powerful magic. It would be used with abandon by the wicked sod of a prince should the shadow elven clan fall under his rule.
I stole a look at Livia. She returned it with concern, but understanding.
The Ever Queen knew I felt compelled to do this. There wasn’t a better way.
I swallowed and steadied my hand. With a prick of my knife I pressed my fingertip to the parchment, adding a drop of blood to the corner, and picked up a gray goose quill. “I will sign.”
My mother and father abandoned the hall the moment my blood soaked into the parchment, taking with them those who’d come to gawk at their prince as he bound himself to one woman.
The princess was taken away in the next breath by a frenzied elven woman with eyes paler than a winter frost. Only Sander, Bloodsinger, and Livia remained with me and the elven king.
Eldirard took his enchanted scroll and tucked it away beneath his fine tunic. “I see your people do not see much use in celebrating this historic alliance.”
My jaw flexed. “It is not personal. This is all rather new for our clans. We do not arrange vows if we can help it.”
The elven king rose, a grin of delight on his face. “Different cultures, I suppose. Elven clans value alliances, agreements, and trade like we value our own life. Our legacies are built on our expansion in power and lands.”
“No doubt that is the reason the prince attacked your isle.”
Eldirard frowned. “Arion came to Natthaven for Skadinia’s influence, but his sights were to overtake your lands.”
I looped my thumbs through my belt. “Good thing he never can now, wouldn’t you say?”
There wasn’t an immediate agreement, and it set my instincts on edge. Truth be told, the Dokkalfar king even shifted where he stood for a breath. “Deals and contracts are voided all the time, Prince Jonas.”
Sharp dread struck like a fist to the heart. I wasn’t the only one.
From the dais, Bloodsinger let out a low sort of growl. “I’d speak clearer, elven. I don’t care much for what you’re insinuating.”
Eldirard cast a wary glance toward the sea king. “I do not mean this alliance will be voided.” Once more, the elven king faced me. “So long as the prince gives my granddaughter no reason to accept another offer.”
“There are no other offers.” I ground my teeth. “You made that clear.”
“I made it clear there was one offer.”
“Prince Arion has no claim here.”
The king sighed and pressed a palm to his chest. “Do not mistake me, Prince Jonas. My desire remains for Skadinia to align our lands with yours. I merely feel it is prudent to tell you that the Ljosalfar are hesitant over this new contract.”
“I care nothing for their tender feelings.” With a heavy step closer, I nearly stood chest to chest with the king. “They should’ve thought of all that when they tried to attack the sea fae and overtake earth fae lands.”
“Agreed.” Eldirard lowered his voice. “But be wary, Highness. They may not give up so quickly. Legacies, sagas, histories, they are what elven crave. King Gerard and his son desire to be the first house to rule both clans in centuries.”
“I’ve signed my name in blood. Your granddaughter agreed. They have no claim on the Dokkalfar, nor fae.”
“But they could, that is what I’m trying to tell you.” With a knowing smile, Eldirard clapped a hand on my shoulder. “As I mentioned, every contract comes with a bit of choice. Within the first turn, should Skadinia decide she might have more peace elsewhere, she can re-enter into her betrothal with Arion.”
“You’re saying if the princess is miserable in our lands, she can . . . null this vow?” Sander approached my shoulder, a groove of worry over his brow.
“Within the first turn, yes. She has so few choices,” the king said, “she deserves to have one. Arion knows of this clause, Prince Jonas.”
“Yet you felt it wise to keep it from us.”
“I made it clear, choice, desire, it was all part of this alliance. I am telling you the finer points now.”
“After I signed in blood.”
“I can have him killed, Prince.” Bloodsinger’s eyes burned like dark flames. The Ever King wasn’t a man of idle threats. He meant what he said.
I held up one hand before Erik started slaughtering. “We did this to avoid bloodshed.”
“Well spoken,” Eldirard said with a touch of slyness in his tone. “I desire the Dokkalfar to keep this alliance. I was not under any obligation to warn you, but I am. Take that to mean something, Highness. But I would not be surprised if Arion took it upon himself to make amends with my granddaughter.”
“He’s not touching her.” My words came rough, harsh. Gods, I hardly knew the woman, but I did not want that bastard to put his cruel hands anywhere near her.
Eldirard held up his beringed fingers. “As I said, I am hopeful you are the victor here, but they were once close, being raised together, and all. I think you are a wise man and will do what is necessary to keep Skadinia satisfied.”
I wasn’t certain if I’d been played or not. The Dokkalfar did not need to confess the truth, he could’ve watched me destroy the alliance on my own, but he spoke.
“I will take your warning in good faith, King Eldirard.”
“As you should. This is all made in good faith. We all benefit from this alliance.”
I cracked one knuckle, then another. “Agreed. So, I assure you, I will do all in my power to keep your granddaughter satisfied.”
The king barked a laugh. “Good man. I warn you, there is more to Skadinia than you might see now. I wish you the best of luck. The Ljosalfar are my kin, so I would be required to side with them should my granddaughter return.”
There was a veiled threat in his levity. When I clasped his forearm, I gave him a tight nod, a show I understood his meaning entirely.
Sander folded his arms over his chest once the king left. “What do you plan to do with all that, Jo?”
What did I plan to do? I cast a glance toward the doors where the princess was taken away. “I suppose I will need to be friendly with my future wife.”
Sander chuckled. “Maybe you ought to do more. I hear a lot of men love their wives.”
I backed away, my comfortable, unbothered smile in place. “Ah, unfortunately, brother, hearts were never part of this deal.”