14. The Mist Thief
Chapter 14
I could not be near my nightmare prince. What a fitting name. He was a stunning terror that kept infecting my mind, my heart, until I lost my bearings. Until I could not return to the safety of my strategic plans.
Dorsan held out an arm for me to place my palm, formal and frigid.
We were here to represent the poise of the Dokkalfar clans. In truth, in my new home, it seemed snobbish regality was the interloper.
Laughter and curses and foul jests rolled through the crowds outside the palace.
Jonas’s mother was positioned in front of a man who kept tossing a leather pouch back and forth in his rune-inked fingers. The queen shoved his shoulder, and he did much the same, even tousling her hair until the king stepped between them.
They laughed.
There wasn’t malice in their movements.
My stomach tightened until bile rose in my throat. How was I to do this? All my life, tutors guided me in etiquette aimed for royal condescension.
Here, it was hard to make out who held a title and who didn’t.
“My Lady?” Dorsan pressed. “Is there something the matter?”
“Everything.” I kept a distance from the unloading. No one seemed to notice. Not yet. “I was not the princess the Dokkalfar desired, always falling short of the expectations. Now, I do not know how to be . . . this.”
Alvers seemed a touch uncouth, but also free.
Dorsan never broke his stern observance. “You will learn their ways. You must. This is your place now.”
My place. I felt as though I had no place.
Royals were meant to be dignified. They were the figureheads of the kingdoms, never faltering. Cara would be horrified to see a queen tossing a roll of furs over her shoulder, or a king speaking with those unloading their coaches like they were his equal.
My grandfather would be ashamed, but I envied them.
I closed my eyes until the jagged tension eased in my chest. “Klockglas. This is Klockglas.”
“The Black Palace is what we call it.”
Hair raised on the back of my neck when his voice brushed against my ear again.
“I have studied maps of your lands. I thought the royal house was in Klockglas.”
“It is.” Jonas came to my side. “But the Black Palace is the whole of this hill. It’s practically a town all its own.”
Behind the portcullis folk walked the grounds. Courtiers in woolen tunics and dresses. Some with long bows and spears. There were a few guards with red cloaks, the only hint of a uniform at all.
Towers with sharp spires topped the palace and sliced through fading wisps of the chill like gnarled fingers. Black stone and dark wood shaped the walls. From what I could count, the palace was made of four levels.
Lancet windows boasted the only color. Stained in paintings of white blooms and vines on some, others depicted ravens in flight or moonless nights.
“Thoughts, Wife?” Much the same as the shore, a sliver of vulnerability broke his tone. He wanted me to delight in his home.
“It is the most expansive royal grounds I’ve seen. Greater than Natthaven’s courtyards.”
“Truly a marvel, My Lord.” Dorsan dipped his chin, playing his role well. The slight twitch to his nose, I wasn’t so certain my fellow elven spoke true.
But Jonas smiled, pleased, and for a fleeting moment I did not feel so out of place.
Mutely, Jonas led us forward. Crowds moved to various areas of the outer yards and entrances. There was no true formal reception, but beneath the smoke in the air was a savory scent of spices and herbs.
The front entrance of the Black Palace was enormous. A domed ceiling so high, voices and steps echoed through the corridors like haunts in the night. Panels on the walls were made of cold stone and the same dark wood from the outer walls.
Shelves and tables aligned the corridors, most topped with colorful glass, blades, or oblong wooden figurines of wolves or birds that seemed a little childish.
Folk rushed to and fro. On first glance, the inner halls seemed chaotic, but the more I stepped into the palace, the more it was clear each member of the royal staff knew exactly where they were to be. No one accidentally collided with anyone else.
Some servants, without even looking up, rolled over their shoulder to the other side of a hall, avoiding clashing with another.
A sort of wild dance.
“Should you need anything and I am not there, palace staff wear blue leather bands on one wrist,” Jonas explained.
“Not a certain attire?”
“You’ll come to realize the king and queen have a great distaste for stripping folk of their choices. Even with what they wear. They compromised for bands on the wrist.”
I had a thought to argue it was readily accepted that a royal household would be dressed in a unified style, but the prince would understand such things were common. He had seen Natthaven’s palace, the blue and silver tunics of our guards and servants. Even the guards who accompanied the other fae realms were marked in different styles and emblems.
“No set attire and you do not call them servants?”
“Maj prefers staff. They work for pay, for increases, and only do tasks like tending the grounds, preparing meals, or upkeeping the palace.”
“Who turns your beds or draws a bath?”
Jonas lifted his hands. “These are rather skilled in more than one way, but I find the simplest task I’ve encountered has been turning down my own bed.”
I almost laughed. “So no courtiers? No ladies in waiting?”
Jonas hesitated near a wide staircase. “I know you are accustomed to such things. If you require ladies, I’m certain we can find some. They won’t know what to do, but they’ll try. Or perhaps Eldirard could send your lady to you and?—”
“No.” Before I realized, my hand fell to his arm. “Gods, the idea of Cara here is frightening. She will be in a constant state of gasping and pleading to the gods to deliver us from such an uncivilized land.”
“My Lady,” Dorsan warned.
I covered my mouth with one hand. “I . . . that’s not what . . . I didn’t mean to insinuate your folk are uncivilized.”
“Pity.” Jonas flashed his white smile. “We’ve worked hard to be the feral kingdom. My father will be wholly disappointed you see him as kingly in the slightest.”
Instead of shirking away my arm, Jonas folded my hand between his elbow, and began up the staircase.
“I like it.” My voice was low, soft, meant for the prince alone.
“Like what?”
“Your feral kingdom.”
The same heat from the coach flashed in his eyes, and instead of fearing it now, I thought I might want it to swallow me whole.
An open corridor on the third level was empty but for a few tables with fiery blooms and willow branches to add color. Overhead, chandeliers with tallow candles cast eerie shadows against the corners.
“This is my wing—our wing,” Jonas said, voice rough. “Dorsan, my good fellow.” The prince spoke with such forced propriety, I could not swallow the laugh. He gripped my guard’s arm and aimed him toward an arched doorway. “I had this chamber arranged just for you. Has a washroom and study for when you tire of following the princess around.”
A furrow gathered over Dorsan’s porcelain brow. “My Lord, it is my duty.”
“Does duty not get rather tiresome? I assure you, here, you will not be maimed should you wish to leave her with others from time to time. I won’t even tell Eldirard. Go now. Go, see if it is to your liking.”
Dorsan shifted, pale from uncertainty. To my grandfather, the prince’s word would supersede my own, but he seemed wary to leave my side.
“Go, Dorsan,” I said. “We are in the same wing.”
With a stiff bow, the guard retreated through the doorway. Alone, Jonas took hold of my hand. Twenty paces from Dorsan’s chamber were two new doors, separated by a mere arm’s length.
“Your chamber,” he said, opening one side. “It is still under some work, but you have a sitting room and bedchamber. Afraid the washroom is only on my side, but you have the largest window and?—”
“You redesigned your bedchamber?”
Jonas halted in the doorway. “I wasn’t certain how fiercely you might wish to murder me, so I thought you might prefer your own space.”
A strange, natural grin tugged at my lips. How long had it been since I smiled in earnest?
“Probably wise. You are irksome and I do like to murder irksome things.” Chin lifted, I strode past the prince.
“Noted, Wife.” Jonas left the door open, but followed me into the room.
The smell of freshly dyed rugs and lacquered wood perfumed the air. Blue and silver, like colors of Natthaven, were strewn over thick, wood floorboards. A half-built hearth was in one corner. Gray stones were stacked neatly on the floor, and when it was finished, the open nook would be large enough I could step inside.
Wooden chairs padded in wiry furs were positioned around a table with clay cups and a crystal ewer—almost like the flutes and decanters of Natthaven. As promised, a reaching, arched window let in the pale light. Below my side of the chamber was a garden. Tangles of green briars and pale blossoms were kept in rows of neat hedges and shrubs. Orderly and opposite from most of the kingdom.
“I love gardens,” I whispered, pressing one palm to the bubbled glass.
“While you were at the sea fae palace, Liv mentioned you enjoyed the gardens there. Fortunately, I do as well, so my wing overlooks them.”
“But you didn’t keep the window.”
“I have a smaller one.” Jonas glanced at his boots and set the satchel he’d shouldered on one of the chairs.
Gods, he tried to make me comfortable even before the vows.
In the bedchamber, a polished bed of cherry wood was draped in a thick quilt of fur and a blue, woven duvet. The mattress was fuller than mine back in Natthaven, and stacks of pillows were disorderly against the headboard, with more in neat piles on the floor.
“I didn’t know your preferences, so you can arrange your space as you please.” Jonas leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.
My furnishings back home were fine enough, but simple. Alver clans did not display refinement, but the prince had clearly strived to drape the chamber in elegance.
He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Your belongings will be here soon. In advance, forgive the vulgarity of whoever brings them. Take the night to get settled. There will be a feast in the coming days to welcome you after the full moon.”
Gods, the full moon was in only two days. Grandfather added the stipulation we were to share a bed each full moon with intention, but his insistence to have the vows so near the next moon likely had as much intention to draw us close in haste as anything.
I cleared my throat. “What is feast attire for alvers?”
“Attire?” The prince hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Don’t arrive naked, I suppose. I already made my sentiments on others seeing you known.”
My heart jumped. “This informality will take some getting used to. I don’t want to . . . overdress or seem as if I’m not trying to conform to your folk. I never want to offend.”
Hells, I hadn’t meant for the words to spill out, a sieve of insecurities and fears that couldn’t be held back any longer. I turned my back toward the door, feigning interest in the runes etched into one of the bedposts.
“Skadinia—”
“Skadi.” My name trembled over my lips. “I hate Skadinia.”
My breath caught when Jonas dragged his knuckles along the back of my arm. He crowded me from behind. With slow hands, the prince slid my hair off the curve of my neck.
“Skadi.” His breath heated the bare skin of my shoulder. “I am not ignorant to how drastically your world has changed by vowing with me. You have no reason to believe me, but I truly only want you to find some peace here.”
“Why?” I spun around, my body aligned to his. “We fought against each other. You could make my life miserable for what I did to your brother.”
“I could.” Jonas pinched my chin in his fingers. “But I have no desire to make you miserable.”
“Your folk know what I am. How will they ever see anything more?”
“And what are you?”
I hesitated. “A weapon. A bit of monstrous darkness.”
On my final word, Jonas coated his eyes with glossy black. Such a shift from his bright green was startling.
His palm cupped the side of my face, his body pressed me into the post of the bed. “Then be monstrous, Wife. If that is what you are, that is what I want you to be.”
My fingers dug into his waist. Gods. He was so close, so hard against me. Never had I craved a touch so fiercely.
My husband refused to indulge. As though, all at once Jonas realized what position we’d taken, he pulled away.
In two blinks, his eyes drifted back to his normal shade. “Trust me, be you, Skadi—just you—and that will be enough.”
I did not have time to respond, to argue, or to truly absorb his meaning, before the prince insisted he was expected somewhere else, and would see me in a few tolls—I took that as their marks of time.
When the door gently closed in his wake, I pressed a hand to my rapid heart, letting my eyes close.
I vowed to burn the man, but he was a force, and I was in the path of destruction, unwilling to save myself.
The prince’s vow of vulgarity being delivered with my belongings was not exaggerated. A gruff man appeared with Ash, cursing the younger man—something about his large feet—and shoving into the chamber without a warning.
“Hello again, Skadi.” Ash clung to one side of a trunk handle and used his chin to nod a greeting.
I smiled, catching sight of a round-faced fae woman with a swollen belly behind them.
With a grunt and declaration such things ought to be tossed into the sea, the brisk, surly man and Ash dropped the trunk. With the sleeve of his dark tunic, Ash wiped his brow. “Skadi this is my wife, Lady Shelba of the Court of Serpents—a glamour fae court located in the Southern realms.”
Shelba had sharply tapered ears and eyes that were round and owlish. She bent at the knee, dipping her chin. “Princess.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said. “Thank you for bringing this.”
“Next thing you know, I’ll be cookin’ right beside Ylva.” The brutish man poked Ash in the chest. “I’m no cook and no delivery boy.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Forgive Osta, Princess. He’s not the most personable sod of the Falkyns.”
“Falkyn?”
“Only the fiercest guild in the kingdom.” Osta smacked Ash against the chest. “Not like these Kryv. Lost your touch boy, heard you comin’ from across the damn hall.”
My eyes bulged. Ash was one of these . . . thieves-turned-inner guard? “Kryv?”
“Since I was a little boy.” His eyes burned with a touch of pride. “My sister is as well.”
“And the . . . Falkyn guild is like the Kryv?”
Osta blew out his lips. “Except sharper, fiercer, and deadlier in all ways.”
“All right, you old sod.” Ash clapped the man on the shoulder. “Falkyns are simply another guild, Skadi. Led by an Elixist and his wife—our lie taster. I’m sure you’ll cross paths eventually.”
Ash spoke with a clear attempt to make this kingdom of trickster guilds more innocent than was true, but I glanced at his wife who mouthed smugglers as though it was nothing to fret about.
“I see.” I clasped my hands in front of my body. “Well, thank you for bringing the trunk.”
“I’m sure more will arrive tonight and through the morning.” Ash led his wife and Osta toward the door. “Sleep well, Princess. Welcome to Klockglas.”
I did not trust my voice, and bid them a silent farewell. Once the door was closed, I scrambled for the trunk. My night shifts, day gowns, a few formal silks. Nothing was missing, and a bite of shame tugged at my heart.
Alver folk had dreary affinities, they did not seem altogether honest, but no one had mistreated me. They’d all been kind enough. Even my nightmare prince.
Brine coated my skin from the journey. I took to washing in the bedchamber, using a small wooden basin and soft linen until my skin pinked from the scrubbing.
Jonas vowed I could have the night to settle, undisturbed. As promised, the room was quiet, the only hint someone had entered as I washed was a tray of pale cheeses and brown rolls with honey, and placed on one of the chairs was a parchment wrapped box, my name printed on the side.
Inside was a small wooden box engraved in stars and moons of Natthaven. Perhaps a gift from the vows? I opened the lid and lost my grip at once.
The box clattered to the floor. My stomach cinched. Who would send such a thing?
Vicious pins stabbed the wings, the head, the middle, and every thin leg of a gentle sun wing. The creatures were unthreatening, they offered guidance in the wood if their trust was earned. As a child, facing the wilds of Natthaven alone, sun wings protected me.
This was a small, unassuming act to some, but to me, this was a betrayal of their trust. I would never display such a cruelty.
My fingers trembled when I plucked a rolled piece of parchment that had spilled from the box. A simple message, but it raised the hair on my neck.
A small token of home, so you never forget where you belong.