11. The Nightmare Prince
Chapter 11
Sunlight was absolute shit.
Horrid and unfeeling, it sliced through my eyes like a molten stoker fresh from the fire. One arm fell over my eyes, but the weight of it added a pounding rush of blood to my skull.
Another groan, and I rolled onto my shoulder, cursing when whatever held me off the floor failed me, and I landed face down on a scratchy, woven rug. “Damn the gods.”
Eyes half opened, I padded around until I found purchase on a table’s edge that felt sturdy enough and heaved myself onto my knees. I hooded my eyes with my hands to keep the light from attacking again, and peered about.
I was in a sitting room of sorts. Gold filigree edged a dark inglenook. There were shelves with scattered books, some in stacks, others flipped onto their sides. The narrow bench seat where I slept was half covered in a fur cloak.
Atop the table was a tin of water and a few crushed herbs.
“Take them.”
I whirled around, the movement sending nauseous waves through my insides and my head spinning.
Skadi, dressed in a simple slate gown, strode into the room, three thick tomes cradled in her arms. She added the books to a sturdy satchel on the floor, and once she stood, pointed at the herbs. “Take them, or you’ll likely retch on the sea.”
The sea?
Skadi folded her arms over her chest. “Are you prepared at all? The ships will be setting sail before the noon sun.”
She spun around and kept stacking books and furs and what appeared to be diverse gowns for all seasons.
Gods. We were to sail home. With my wife.
I was vowed. A man with a household of his own. “The vows.”
I fell back to the rug, the heels of my hands dug into my eyes, and another groan broke free.
“Ah, did your disappointment still rise with the sun?”
With a slight lift to my palms, I glared at her. “You twist my words.”
She shook her head and went back to her preparations.
Bile teased the back of my throat. A few deep breaths through my nose, and I sat up, slowly staggering to my feet. Gods, I smelled like I’d rolled in a goat pen—sweat and leather and old drink. Careful not to stumble, I took the herbs and added them to the water, tilting the tonic onto my tongue in one swallow.
“That’s gods-awful.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Perhaps, but it acts swiftly against a spinning head and belly.”
“An elven trick?”
Skadi paused, smoothing a rabbit hide over the top of one pouch. “A me trick, I suppose.”
She strode back into the bedchamber. I rubbed the back of my neck, following. My tunic was askew, my feet bare, I was certain my hair was standing on end. Hardly the vision a woman would want to greet with the dawn.
“A bit of a healer, are you?”
Her eyes lifted from the disheveled quilts over the grand canopied bed. “From age six to eight I learned to survive on my own, Prince. I’m certain you find that rather beneath you, but one learns tonics swiftly when seasons bring about illness. It is nothing but a mix of tidebane root that soothes upset bellies and sjal vine—a leaf native to Natthaven—that soothes the deepest aches of the skull.”
I knew Skadi was not Eldirard’s blood, but I never thought long on her life before the king brought her into the palace.
If I was to entice her to keep choosing this alliance for a turn, I was off to a piss-poor start.
“I, uh, I’ll just clean myself up before I embarrass you further with my appearance.” My fingers tapped the thick frame around the door. “I didn’t make an utter fool of myself—or you—last night, did I?”
For half a breath Skadi almost seemed stunned by the question. She folded a linen shift and shook her head. “No. I managed to remove you from the hall before shame befell us.”
“And I, we . . . I wasn’t untoward, or?—”
“Other than the moment you made maddening love to me? No, you slept quite soundly.”
I coughed, hand to my throat as though it might steady the thrum of my pulse. “What did you say?”
One corner of Skadi’s mouth twitched. She kept folding night shifts.
My shoulders slumped with relief. There was my fire. “You’re mocking me. Well played.”
“Never fear, Prince.” Skadi strode to the doorway to the sitting room, glancing over her shoulder. “You didn’t bed the beast.”
A touch of bitterness wrapped the term and it turned my stomach over again. Is that how she thought I viewed her?
“I won’t be long,” I said, pausing halfway into the wide washroom. “Oh, and Skadi.” When she met my gaze, I forced a weak smile. “I do not see surviving in the streets as beneath me. My folk did much the same. Look at that, Wife, we have so much in common already.”
I closed the door, relishing in the puzzled furrow to her brow.
Sea fae would ferry the earth fae and alvers home. The magic in their voices was the only power capable of diving vessels beneath the tides like a bowing whale before we slipped through the watery borders and surfaced back in earth realms where fae and alvers made their kingdoms.
Natthaven was a fading isle. A place from myths and old lore. To fade and appear in different seas was a strange magic, one Skadi tried to engage the night we fought against each other.
The strain to pull away the whole of her land into her darkness was too fierce. It was the move that made her vulnerable for the strike of my mesmer, the burn of waking nightmares I shoved into her mind.
On the docks, I blinked against the sun. “Why did the isle not fade for you that night?”
Skadi hesitated. “It stopped speaking to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Natthaven has a magic all its own.” She turned, taking in the dark trees coating the hillsides. From the shore, the peaks of the palace carved through the trees like spears. “Grandfather taught me, the affinity of the Norns flows through the soil. Fate is felt, and the isle will help those it trusts to meet their fate.”
“So, you believe it was fate that brought us here since the isle did not bow to you?”
“I think it’s nothing but a story to tell a curious girl so she respects the land. The only fate there that night was you arriving when I was utterly exhausted.”
Something about her tone made me wonder if she spoke more to convince me, or herself.
King Eldirard positioned his isle on the edges of the Ever Kingdom and the far seas, open waters leading to lands I did not know.
As part of the treaty, Bloodsinger insisted the king keep the isle within sight until the vows; keep enemies close. Now, with the alliance secured, the elven king would be free to shift his lands out of the sights of sea fae if he desired.
By the water’s edge Eldirard beamed like a man long starved who’d been given a feast. He bid farewell to the folk boarding the ships.
Celine Tidecaller had her crew loading their decks with belongings for Mira’s clans. Bloodsinger and his dark Ever Ship were anchored nearest to the shore and would take the Night Folk fae, Livia’s people. In truth, the sea king and queen would likely remain in the Northern realms for a week or so. They always did.
Cerulean sails hoisted along a ship with a narrow hull were positioned nearest to our dock. Gavyn was Celine’s brother and had been tasked with sailing our clan home.
A hand struck my shoulder. Aleksi, clad in his Rave tunic and sword, tugged me against his chest, clapping me on the back. “I’m bidding you farewell and good luck.”
“I have no need of it. I’m already the grandest husband in all the lands.”
Aleksi stepped back and glanced over one of my shoulders where Skadi remained stoic and distant. “How was last night?”
“What sort of man do you take me for? It’s improper to share the secrets of a bedchamber.”
“The way you stumbled from the hall, I wasn’t certain if you’d make it to your room, or if she’d kill you for being such a fool along the way.”
“Elven wine is ruthless,” I said with a shrug.
“No jests, Jo—how are you with all this?”
Moments from the previous night were lost in a drunken fog. Bits and pieces of anger, a compulsion to get to Skadi’s side, and whispered words I could not recall before I fell into nothingness. I could tell Alek nothing had changed. I could tell him I felt little, but it wouldn’t be entirely true.
I didn’t understand it, but somewhere inside was the phantom tug of a possessive need to be nearer to the woman. To only her.
Never had I desired one woman. After turns of bedding many, I convinced my own heart it was not made to settle on one.
Now I couldn’t get her damn face from my mind.
I gave him a quicksilver grin. “I survived my first night as a vowed man, and she didn’t murder me out of annoyance. We will survive at least one more.”
Aleksi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t be a sod and you might survive longer.”
Farewells between the fae kingdoms were rife in fanfare and mourning, as though we would not see each other numerous times through the seasons. Kings and queens—the men and women forever embedded in my life—all offered their well wishes to Skadi.
My wife was a cunning sneak, a beautiful trickster. Clearly, the woman knew how to mask her unease.
With each word offered to her from the kings, queens, and courtiers, welcoming her to the fae lands, Skadi would dip her chin politely. She would paste on a proper smile. She’d even take a hand or two. But where she thought no one would notice, a finger would flick by her side, or her cheek would sink inward, as though she were gnawing on it.
The other kingdoms were making efforts to welcome a new princess, but she’d yet to be alone with my mother and father.
Kase and Malin Eriksson loved fiercely, but they were a suspicious pair, always seeking out that cruel ulterior motive in those they did not know. No mistake, my folk would lurk in the shadows until they’d observed long enough to emerge.
Bells rang from the ships. I blew out a breath and went to her side.
“It’s time.”
A lance of pain dimmed her eyes. Skadi looked once more behind us as though memorizing the trees, the sea mists, and the thatched rooftops of the palace.
I shouldered one of her satchels, feeling a great deal like a villain in her life. “We’ll return soon.”
“No matter.” She cleared her throat and faced the sea. “This was part of the expectations. Shall we go?”
I offered a curt nod and walked with her down the docks to the small row boats that would take us to Gavyn’s ship, while elven guards kept three paces behind. Eldirard awaited us with the same two guards who’d stood beside him on the dais during the vows.
The king wore a fur-lined cloak on his shoulders that winged out when he opened his arms wide.
“Ah, Skadinia, how lonely these corridors will be without you.” The king pressed a kiss to her brow. “But be well in your new lands, keep to our agreements, and write to me often, child.”
She embraced her grandfather.
Eldirard looked to me. “You are pleased, I hope, Prince Jonas?”
“Time will tell.”
The king’s face fell. “Was my granddaughter not pleasing?”
Shameful gazes pointed at Skadi boiled in my brain, and the same unsettling need to step in front of her, a shield against her own folk, caused my body to hum in overheated irritation.
“Time will tell,” I went on, “for I do not yet know if my wife is pleased. Is that not the way of things? A satisfied wife makes for a pleasant life? If she is pleased, then I will be.”
One of the guards chuckled like it was a ridiculous notion. A man with young features and a smugness that left me rather inclined to strike his jaw.
Skadi looked away, fingers tangled. Not so long ago she was standing toe to toe with me, taunting me, the fire in her eyes my new obsession. This man’s mockery doused it.
I rather hated him. “What is your name? I don’t believe I’ve been introduced.”
The guard straightened. “Cian of House Aeburg.”
“Ah. And tell me, Cian of House Aeburg, what did you find amusing about my wife’s satisfaction?”
Cian’s lip twitched. He looked at Skadi, but I took a step to the side, blocking his view.
“No offense meant, Prince Jonas. I simply hope you understand the darkness in our beloved princess. It is difficult to please.”
“Darkness, you say?”
“Jonas.” Skadi’s fingertips touched my arm.
I didn’t look back.
For me, mesmer magic was cold, like icy water replaced my blood. Sander described his as a roar of wind in his chest. When I blackened out the whites of my eyes the world looked as though the sun hid behind thick clouds.
My arm slipped around Skadi’s waist, tucking her against my side. “I suppose it is a good thing she goes to a realm of nightmares then. She’ll fit right in.” Without brightening my gaze, I looked to the elven king. “We’ll return to fulfill our obligations of the alliance.”
Eldirard swallowed. “Of course. Dorsan will accompany you as the representative for my court.”
The second guard with stern features sharp enough to cut glass stepped forward, a pack of belongings strapped to his back. The same man who’d come to gather my runaway bride at the tavern.
“He will be welcome, so long as he is not foolish enough to insult my wife, no matter how subtle.” My teeth flashed at Cian. “You see, I have a terrible time forgetting such things, then I’m nothing but poor company.”
Skadi stiffened against my side, but said nothing as she bid her grandfather another swift farewell.
Together, we stepped into the small row boat with a stone-faced Dorsan.
Once we were far enough from shore, I held Skadi’s chin between my thumb and finger, drawing her face close. “Angry with me?”
“Yes.”
I hummed, blinking until the darkness of my mesmer faded from my eyes. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“All so you can do the next infuriating thing?”
“I guarantee it.”
She pinched her lips and shifted on the bench, barring me out.
I propped my elbows onto the edge of the boat and pointed my face toward the sunlight. “By the way, that was the first time you’ve called me by my name. I look forward to hearing it again and again, perhaps more breathless next time.”
Skadi’s toes struck the side of my shin. I jolted in a bit of stun, then laughed, rubbing a hand over the spot.
There was my fire.