51. The Mist Thief
Chapter 51
The king positioned Cara on a velvet bench near the vanity, then plucked his circlet off the edge of the bed.
He studied the sharp points of bronze. Intricate stars and peaks of Natthaven were etched in the metals. “This has always symbolized the strength of the Dokkalfar clan. Made from the metals of this isle, it is designed to sit atop a leader who cherishes its people, one who is trusted by the powers in its soil.
“It has always accepted you, Skadi.” Eldirard offered a sad smile. “I suspect it kept you safe as a child. I am regretful to know how alone you have been in these walls, how misplaced you feel among your own people. But the richest power of elven lives in this land and it bows to you. As I now do.”
Cara drew in a sharp breath when the king lowered to one knee, holding up the circlet.
“Skadi of House Sannhet.”
I swallowed. He did not use Naganeen, he used the house of my birth. I kept my body stiff, unmoving, in truth, I wasn’t certain what I ought to do.
Eldirard lifted his eyes. “I crown you as my heir of Natthaven. Your alliance with royal lines has secured your inheritance and was accepted by this land.” On the sharpest point of the crown, the king pricked one finger, spilling a drop of his blood down the point. “Willingly given, my blood is yours, as is this throne. None may take it from you. Claim your birthright.”
My palms trembled, but I took the circlet from his hold. The king did not rise as I placed it atop my head. A hiss slid through my teeth when the bronze touched my brow.
“No, leave it.” Eldirard held up his hands before I could take the circlet away. “It aches for only a moment. It is a brand, should anyone take into question if you are to be the queen here, the brand will show through and there will be no doubt.”
In this moment, I realized how little I had tried to learn about stepping into the throne.
Vague memories during lessons talked of the royal brand, but I never asked. I never asked much at all, too intent on being obedient and not a bother.
Eldirard rose to his feet, hands outstretched. “May I?”
He towered over me, so it was no trouble to pluck the crown from my head. The king gestured to the mirror. Cara had her hands in front of her mouth when I bent to see my reflection.
There, shimmering across my brow was a constellation of stars, almost shaped like a dainty crown. I could not look away as the silver glimmer faded into my skin, hidden beneath the surface. I touched the place, but there was no irritation, nothing to hint it was even there.
“You are my heir, Skadi.” Eldirard said. “No alliance with the Ljosalfar is needed. The man you have come to choose, the life you have chosen, it is more than enough to secure your position here.”
Emotion knotted in my chest. I looked back at the king. “You will allow me to return to Jonas?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation. “I have failed you time and again, but I will not fail you now.”
“I don’t forgive you, not for my mother and father, not for taking me from my husband, the life we had here will never be what it was. But . . . I am grateful for what you have done in this moment.”
Eldirard nodded. He opened an arm to the door. “Come. We’ll get the key to those wretched things on your wrists and return you to your folk.”
“What of Gerard and Arion?”
“I will handle their tantrums.” Eldirard did not walk in front of me now. He strode down the corridors shoulder to shoulder, as equals. “They will be disgruntled but will need to make their own alliances elsewhere. The fae lands are too vast, so they will not try to stand against them without the Dokkalfar.”
A glimmer of hope took root. I would be with Jonas soon, and as the crowned heir, I could banish Arion from ever stepping foot on this damn isle again.
Ljosalfar guards remained in the throne room where their king and crowned prince sat at a simple meal arranged on the center table. I did not notice any Dokkalfar, but had little time to be discomfited before Gerard drew our attention.
“Ah.” Gerard lifted a drinking horn in a greeting. “Is she feeling better now?”
“I believe amends have been made and Skadi knows her place.”
“Good.” Arion tipped his own horn back. “We’ll do swift vows. I want it done with no more delays.”
“That won’t be possible,” said Eldirard. “The future queen is already vowed with House Eriksson.”
Air grew cold when both Gerard and Arion lifted their luminescent gazes to the Dokkalfar king. Slowly, Gerard rose from his seat. “I grow tired of your hesitations.”
“There is no hesitation.” Eldirard lifted his chin. “I have chosen to stand by the alliance, as I agreed in the beginning. Peace can remain with the Ljosalfar and Dokkalfar. Should it, then you will have powerful allies with fae folk, Gerard.”
The Ljosalfar king swiped his hand over the table, clattering his horn to the ground. “I do not want allies, you old fool. I want our people to sit at the head of all the lands as they once did.”
“What’s done is done.”
“Undo it,” Arion bit out. “You are the king.”
Eldirard sneered down at the prince. “And you are a guest who has worn out his welcome. You will never be permitted to take my heir as a wife.”
A burn of pride bloomed in my chest. Like a wave of fear was washed away, I felt freer than I ever had within these walls.
Arion shot to his feet and pointed a finger at the king. “You will regret this choice.”
I stepped forward. “Leave, Arion. There is no place for you here any longer.”
The prince scoffed, flashing the edge of his teeth for a moment. “I think you will find you are quite mistaken very soon.”
I blamed my inattention on my reckless burst of arrogance from Eldirard’s declaration. I did not see the moment the guards shifted; I took no notice of the blades they lifted.
Not until it was too late.
A bronze short blade sliced through Eldirard’s spine until the point broke through his chest. My scream split across the throne room. Betrayed as I was by his actions, the man had been my adopted grandfather most of my life.
Before I could reach him, two guards pulled me away.
“What have you done!” I tugged against their hold. “He’s your kin. He’s your blood.”
Eldirard and King Gerard were distant relatives. This went against all elven customs. It stained the soul too fiercely.
“I did not strike the king.” Gerard opened his arms. “Nor did my heir.”
I sobbed Eldirard’s name when he fell to his knees, blood spilling over his lips. Shouts rose from beyond the doors. Palace guards had been locked out.
Gerard snapped commands for his men to subdue them while defending the palace from any hint of invading fae folk.
“Take the princess to my chambers,” Arion said.
“Queen.” A wet voice followed. Eldirard tumbled forward, but looked to me, a fading smile on his lips. “She is . . . queen.”
I shook my head, tears heating my cheeks when I watched his eyes dim. I wanted to scream, plead with him not to go, I wasn’t ready, I needed his guidance before he could go, I needed . . . more time to make sense of everything.
Eldirard drew in a soft breath. He never released it.
Gerard crossed the room. He pinched my chin between his fingers, peering at my brow. The same sting that came when the circlet was placed atop my head lifted under my skin.
“Damn him.” Gerard released my face with a rough shove. “No one is to see her. Take her to the prince’s chambers, chain her for all I care, but keep her contained.” He reeled on another guard. “Summon our remaining guard from the wood and someone rid this hall of all the blood.”
“They are coming for you, Gerard.” I battled in the grip of the guards. “Arion, you have been marked by a prince of nightmares and he never loses his mark.” I laughed, a little frantic, a little broken. “I am the queen of Natthaven, and you have all been marked.”
The door slammed on my shouts and I was dragged up a back stairwell to where Arion slept during his stays. It was cluttered and disorderly and smelled of sweat and smoke.
The white iron around my wrists held my affinity back, but I bit and kicked at the Ljosalfar guards until one pinned me forward on the bed.
One guard locked the window and tucked the small key into his belt, then hurried out of the room while his companion kept me suffocated on Arion’s bed. When the first guard returned, he carried a thick rope in his hands.
It took time with my resistance, and they were hesitant to strike a woman they knew was branded as a royal. Still, when one of the men grew weary with my trouble, he leveled his fist against my jaw.
Black speckles dotted my vision in a dizzy haze, allowing a sliver of time for them to bind my arms behind my back, then tether me to one of the sturdy bed posts.
When the guards stepped back, sweat was on their brows, and unease lived in their eyes. I tasted blood on my lip and licked it away when they backpedaled for the door. My mouth twisted into a wretched sort of grin.
“You won’t survive when they come for me,” I said, voice low and harsh.
They fought their composure, kept their stern fa?ade, and without a word abandoned the room, locking the door behind them.
Alone again, I let my heart break.