48. The Mist Thief
Chapter 48
By the dawn we would take to the sea and sail toward Mira’s kin. Through the shroud of unease, a glimmer of excitement took hold in my belly. The princess had a talent in describing her world with such delight in her voice, it seemed too mystical to be a true land.
Prince Aleksi wasn’t due to his Rave post for another fortnight and planned to spend time with his cousin in what Mira called the Court of Stars.
Sander, Von, and several of the Kryv would be joining. The only one who did not seem thrilled with the idea was Tait.
After gathering a few gifts from Frigg and her folk to take to Mira’s folk, Jonas and I paused on the staircase leading to our chamber as a new battle of fae broke out in the front entry of the palace.
Mira chatted with Frigg about some sort of pixie legend in wood.
“I still swear I saw one right before my fourteenth turn, remember? We all came for your birth revel.”
Mira snorted. “Friggy, I live there. They don’t exist, or I would’ve seen one by now.”
“Or you do not have a keen eye.” Tait grumbled from the corner.
Mira spun on the sea fae. “I see a great deal more than you, Hearttalker.”
“I see plenty.”
“And?” Mira came to a halt beside him. “What do you see that is so repugnant to you that you keep an endless scowl in place at all times?”
My arm was around Jonas’s waist, but I could not help but look over my shoulder, curious how the sea fae would respond.
Tait freed a soft hiss of annoyance, flashing the points of two elongated canine teeth, and reached for one of the paper smokes in his pocket.
Mira let out a groan of frustration, plucked the smoke from his fingers, and tossed it on the ground.
“Well.” Jonas pressed a hand on the small of my back, nudging me up the staircase. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Perhaps we ought to get to sleep before fae wars start anew.”
With a nip at the lobe of my ear, Jonas opened the door to my side of the chamber. While we were gone, palace staff assured us the wall would be torn down, so we would, at last, claim one wing.
A throat cleared. Dorsan emerged from his chamber. “Sire. I was informed by your . . . brisk cook, there are several travel packs she would like you to approve before journeys begin tomorrow.”
“Ah, Ylva. Always thinking we’ll find something better beyond these borders.” He pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “Be back in a moment.”
“You know what I’ll want, Nightmare.”
He spun around, walking backward. “What sort of fool do you take me for? You adore pickled herring.”
I winced. “Do not trifle with my spiced honey cakes!”
His laughter echoed along the stones of the stairwell as he strode away. I glanced at Dorsan, gesturing to my open doorway. “Shall we?”
My guard dipped his chin. Jonas, in not-so-subtle words, had insisted until tensions eased I was not to be alone. Trouble was, we didn’t know if tensions would ever ease.
Dorsan took his place between the door and the window, while I settled beside an open trunk packed with my dresses and Jonas’s tunics.
I’d only started folding a few more tops when a flash of gold sparked on the vanity. Stones in the heirloom necklace clinked together, shining some of their fiery light into the room. I took off the gift after we returned to Klockglas.
I’d thought the necklace was precious when Cara delivered it for the king, but the sight of it had turned wretched the moment I left the shores of Natthaven. I hadn’t put it on since.
But where flashes of brilliant light were common when the mystical chips of stone collided, a growing spiral of light was not.
The bursts of gold spun, faster and faster, until a shield of fiery heat filled my chamber. From the fire, a figure stepped through.
My heart stalled.
Arion materialized in my bedchamber. His red hair was covered in a deep blue hood, two white iron blades were strapped to his belt. White iron did not draw blood like an average blade—it rotted affinities from the heart.
Too deep, too many cuts, and it became fatal when magic was bled out.
Somehow in my stun I managed to scream, and scramble back. Dorsan had his blade drawn in the next breath, but Arion was swifter.
One of his white iron blades flew across the room, the point disappearing deep into Dorsan’s belly.
“Dorsan!” I tried to catch his stumble, but my guard’s height and weight drew me to the ground with him.
He coughed and gasped. No blood seeped from his wound, only charred skin as the iron rotted his affinity from his heart. I gripped the hilt of the blade, desperate to yank it free, but Arion tore me away.
“Time to go, Skadinia.”
I screamed again and kicked and clawed at Arion’s arm. Cold bled over my palms, but a lance of pain chased away my affinity before it could take hold. Arion had drawn his second blade and sliced across my hand.
The white iron weakened my affinity as much as others. One strike and my head grew hazy.
“You . . . bastard.” I made a weak attempt to snatch Arion’s blade, but the prince merely sliced another gash over my arm.
I cried out, falling to the haze of the iron.
“That’s enough, Skadinia. You’ve played your games, but your place is with me.”
Through my murky vision, I watched as Dorsan struggled for breath against the cruel blade.
I watched as the light faded from my loyal guard’s eyes.
A tear slid down my cheek. The burn of the blade had overtaken my arms, leeched into my throat, and pumped through my blood with every thud of my heart.
I knew a great deal about white iron, knew how fiercely it could incapacitate magical blood. Marks of it were written across my flesh.
Arion waved a palm over the sparking charm on my necklace. “Clever, don’t you think? You’ve kept a way for me to reach you all this time.”
All gods.
It was gifted to me . . . on purpose. A second blow of betrayal was sharper than the first. Arion was a powerful Ljosalfar, one of the rare few who could summon enough light and heat with his affinity, it broke through walls, air, barriers, and allowed him to walk through it no matter how small the flare. He could always pull more until it grew into a blaze.
I’d carried the key to his door.
Arion placed a folded missive on the edge of the bed and hooked his arms under Dorsan’s unmoving body, and dragged him toward the back of the chamber.
“Alliances were broken, Skadinia. Time to be off. Your husband will soon read your reasons for leaving.” He cast a quick look at the missive he’d left on the bed.
The power of the iron boiled the back of my throat in a harsh bile. It was nauseating and suffocating to be touched by the blade. The force of it spun the room, deadened the mind, even with shallow cuts as these.
Arion widened his new fire ring. I tried to scream—perhaps I did—but my head lolled to the side when the prince aimed the white iron blade at my cheek. “Fight me any longer, and the next strike takes a finger. I don’t want to rot more of your affinity, Skadinia. It is too valuable to me.”
Arion took me into his arms.
Panic choked my breath from my lungs. Heat and light flashed overhead, and he stepped into his fiery wall.
A tear fell onto my cheek.
I love you, Nightmare.