53. The Mist Thief
Chapter 53
The king was dead. My heart ached in a befuddling collision of hate and affection. Eldirard destroyed my mother and father. He was not alone, but had looked me in the eye, day after day, knowing what he’d allowed.
But without him, I would not have Jonas.
It was a wretched sort of pain. To love and hate the fallen.
Eldirard gave me his throne. I was queen here and needed to stand for all Dokkalfar, but I was tethered like a beast about to strike.
My shoulders ached from the way the guards tied my arms behind my back. Cracked calluses were building on my knees, and blood wrapped around my wrists from my constant squirming and writhing to slip my hands free of the white iron.
“You never did think things through well, Skadinia.”
My head snapped up. Arion filled the doorway, his narrow jaw pulsed in frustration.
I bared my teeth. “Get out.”
“It is my room.”
“My palace.”
“Hmm. We’ll see. We will be fading soon. A few of the Dokkalfar guards have offered to help pull the isle away. It would be better if you agreed to save time and do it yourself.”
“It would be better if you slit your throat. Save you some pain for when he finds you. Or perhaps, I’ll get the honor of killing you first.”
Arion frowned. “Still think your alver prince is coming for you? Don’t be a fool. We will make a new alliance to ease worries, divide lands, give them plenty of coin, maybe even a few elven consorts to replace you in his bed. He’ll be appeased.”
“Do you actually believe the words that come out of your mouth?”
Arion gripped my hair and wrenched my head back. “You have the tendency to think folk care for you more than they do. I tried to show you, tried to prove you would never be seen as anything but darkness, but you still cling to hope someone might see you as more.”
“I know what I am, and that is the difference between you and a man like Jonas—he knows exactly who I am, and it is how I know he will come for me.”
“You should have learned by now—everyone has reasons for drawing you in. None of them are because of your few charms, Skadinia. Jonas of House Eriksson might come because he sees you as a prize, but we know how to fill that loss easy enough.”
One side of my mouth curled. “You can try. But if you do not give up this fight soon, you will not leave this isle alive, Arion.”
Arion stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. “Still so dimwitted and desperate for love. I hope to change that during our turns as king and queen.” The prince turned to go. “Food will be sent to you. Stop harming yourself; I will still keep you in chains if you cut to the bone.”
The door slammed behind him.
Let Arion and Gerard think they could reason and barter with my nightmare. I would relish their screams as he tore them apart.
“Stop touching them, they’ll fall off.”
“It’s starting to itch.”
Sharp whispers pulled me from a fitful rest. Somewhere in the quiet, exhaustion overcame me. My neck throbbed from the angle it was resting against the post of the bed, and from my knees to my ankles had gone numb.
Two Ljosalfar guards entered the room, one held a tray of food in his hands. I straightened, unable to fight, but I could snap and bite and curse them like I had done with every other face in this room.
The man holding the tray was tall and lean, his hair was not as satin and pale as most light elven, and the tips of his ears curled out, like they were too heavy to hold upright. His companion was broader with eyes that did not burn brightly, and he glared down at me with such hate, I thought he might draw a blade.
I jolted when the tray clattered on the edge of a desk. “Well, if I hesitated on whether to kill them before, now I have my answer. Poor lovey, chained like a hound.”
He yanked a knife from his boot.
“Stop.” A bite of shame filled my cheeks. I sounded so desperate, but I did not wish to die, not without at least seeing him once more.
The guard didn’t stop.
Not until his blade cut the ropes around my shackled wrists. I cried out and fell forward when my position adjusted so abruptly. The second guard caught me, and placed his palms on my arms, rubbing the agonizing sting of rushing blood away.
“It’ll pass, Princess. It’ll pass.”
The guard who sliced the rope touched his ears and sighed in relief when he plucked off the tops.
I gaped in a bit of horror. When the ears fell to the ground they dissolved like they’d been made of ash.
“Nik needs to work on that little sculpting trick. Feels like damn fleas are creeping along my ears.”
Nik? With caution, I looked at the guard holding me. I didn’t recognize him, but he too removed the points of his ears, leaving behind a rounded, mortal-like shape.
My heart stalled. They were alvers.
“Hello, Princess. It’s Ash. I have on some masking powders that’ll wear off soon enough.”
Each breath came faster, sharper, tears—unwanted and unexpected—spilled over my lashes. “Ash.”
They came for me. I knew it would happen, but . . . I expected weeks, months, not half a night.
Ash patted the back of my head when it dropped to his shoulder.
The second guard picked at a few things on the tray they’d brought in. “When you feel like you can stand, lovey, we best be going. They’ll soon discover the two guards with broken necks in the root cellar.”
I blinked and lifted my head. “Raum?”
“Clever girl.” He clicked his tongue and pointed a finger at me, then turned back to the tray.
“How . . . how did you get in here?”
“I don’t think you realize how well I can see.” Raum didn’t look at me and kept inspecting the offerings on the tray. “Kept to the deep wood and made around the back of the palace. Strangest thing, though, I could’ve sworn the trees moved. Almost leading us.” Raum popped a roasted nut onto his tongue and faced me. “Have I slipped my mind, or is it not so impossible?”
“Not impossible.” My voice was small, breathless. “Natthaven aids those it trusts.”
Raum shrugged and went back to the meal. “Foolish of the isle to trust thieves.”
Ash grinned. “We took over the guards when Raum noticed Dokkalfar palace guards locked in the stables.”
“The stables? Damn Gerard.” I rubbed the sore skin around the white iron. “He’s overtaking the palace. He killed my . . . he killed Eldirard.”
“I thought elven couldn’t harm their folk.”
“They can do whatever they please, but it stains their affinities, brings madness. We call it a soul stain. Gerard is having his guards act on his behalf, believing he will avoid the corruption. I think he was corrupted long ago.”
“Hmm.” Raum hummed again, mouth full. “We’ll want to free your clan’s guards, unless they don’t stand with you? I know some of your folk like to whimper about darker mesmers—affinities—no, you have mesmer; I prefer that term.”
“The palace guards will defend Natthaven. They will not take kindly to the death of their king.”
“Good.” Raum brushed crumbs off his palms. “Well, blood’s about to spill and I don’t much like leaving Mal out there alone any longer.”
“The queen is here?”
“Of course. Our mark was only meant to catch the first sighting of you, then send word to the others in the sea, but when we noticed the discrepancy of the guards we worked our way inside. Truth be told, I think Mal might’ve been afraid we’d find you dead if we waited too long.”
I didn’t understand how they would send word to the sea, but I didn’t question. There wasn’t time.
“We can’t send the signal unless you tell us if you can walk or if Ash needs to carry you. We can do either.”
“I can walk.” I winced as Ash helped me rise to my feet.
He chuckled. “Reminds me of Shelba when she tries to stand, our little is getting too big.”
“Well.” I groaned and rubbed against my swollen knees. “If this is how it feels with a little inside, I hope you soothe her aches each night.”
“I try.” Ash combed his eyes over me in concern. “All right? No shame if you need help, but it’s better to know before we make our next moves.”
“I’m fine. Where is Jonas? Arion wrote something to him, and whatever it said is a lie and?—”
Raum cut me off with a laugh. “Princess, princess, princess. First, Jonas is only a little bit of a fool. Second, if that elven sod wants to plan a scheme, he better learn about his marks. As I understand it, he called you the wrong name in the missive. Foolish mistake. Damn near insulting he thinks any of us would fall for it.”
Raum peered into the corridor, then pulled back inside. “Best to take the window, I’d say. Mal can handle the patrols outside, but there are groups of elven in the next corridor. We’d need to kill our way out.”
Ash and Raum set to rummaging through a few hidden pouches they pulled from their boots—a knobby, violet candle and powder that looked like crushed charcoal.
“What happened after they took you, Skadi?” Ash asked as they worked with the curious supplies.
I barreled through it all, from Dorsan’s death to Eldirard’s.
“So I better call you queen now?” Raum said, almost as though he was disappointed.
“Call me whatever you please, I just want the light elven off my isle.”
“That we can do.”
“Ready?” Ash kept a hand under my arm.
I lifted my wrists. “I can run and fight, but these block my affinity.”
Raum grimaced. “There are elixirs to block mesmer that burn like the hells. Does it hurt you?”
“No. In this form it only weakens.”
“Don’t have a pick on me in this getup, but we’ll get them off soon enough.” Raum handed me one of his daggers.
I nearly laughed. Whatever potion or spell had masked their features was wearing off and his face looked oddly contorted as his true silvery eyes burned through the false glow.
“I’ll light the signal.” Ash sprinkled the charcoal elixir over the wick of the strange candle and a poisonous shade of green flicked to life. The flame grew and flashed against the glass of the chamber until the edges of the sill looked stained in vibrant emerald.
Elixirs and potions. I wanted to laugh at Gerard’s haughtiness. The Ljosalfar king was not even as skilled with pulling from light as his son, and he thought he could defeat the alver clans into submission.
Their mesmer was wicked, beautiful, and seemed to have a use for any sort of trouble.
A moment later, a small pebble struck the glass.
“She saw it. Time to go if we want to join the fun.” Ash nudged me away and slammed the hilt of his sword through the glass, then carved out the shards without a care for the noise. Ash must’ve noted my hesitation. “Trust us, Skadi. This is not our first time infiltrating a palace.”
I held my breath and took Ash’s hand. Below was nothing but shrubs and a narrow pathway guards used to patrol the outer edges of the palace.
“I’m told you’re a climber.” Ash stepped aside.
I didn’t reply, simply reached for a limb of a nearby tree and swung out over the space. No guards. No calls of escape.
The two alvers followed me, carefully maneuvering down the tree until the last limb ended ten paces over the ground. I let go, biting down the cry of pain when my sore legs struck the soil.
When I lifted my gaze, my stomach backflipped. Four Ljosalfar guards sat in a huddle, curiously touching their bright tunics. One studied the hilt of a sword as though he had never seen one in his life.
“Know where I am, lady?” A guard tilted his head and looked to me imploringly.
“She doesn’t know where you are. Stop talking, or you might recall what I said would happen.”
The guards shuddered as one and looked about with a new frenzy as though something might erupt from the shadows and devour them.
Bleeding gods.
Queen Malin stood between two towering oaks, hand outstretched. Her head was covered in a dark hood, but when she looked my way, her smile was bright against the darkness. “Told them if there is too much noise, nyks with a love of eating eyes will come for them.” The queen faced the empty trees again. “It is good to see you safe, my girl. Be ready to use that blade.”
She took their memories. The queen had not needed to lift a blade, yet had bested four trained warriors.
From one of the palace towers, a bell clanged in a warning. There were shouts from the inner walls and commands from watchtowers.
“They’ve discovered you’re missing,” Ash said. “Or they found the two dead guards.”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re too late.” Malin’s voice was calm and steady.
Like black threads weaving through the wood, darkness gathered from shadows. It peeled away from the dark side of the trees, from rocks, from beneath the shrubs, and built into a wall of night.
Malin turned her palm as though reaching into the wall, and when she pulled back another hand was clasped in hers. The king.
Darkly clad figures stepped through the shadows, blades in hand, faces lined in blood, kohl, some kept bows on their backs and clambered up the trees to find a position. They spilled into the palace courtyard like a dark tide flowing over the shore.
Breath caught. A few paces away, near the king and queen, a figure broke through the darkness.
It was a girlish dream, to see the hero storming the castle to rescue his beloved.
In every dream where my life might unravel like the romantic fae tales of my books, I never anticipated my hero would be blood-soaked and murderous without a hint of honorable intentions on his features.
He was my sweetest nightmare.
I knew his walk—swift and determined. Those arms held me fiercely and tenderly. His hood was knocked off his head and his hair was windblown and tousled.
A sob croaked in my chest. I gathered my skirt in one hand and rushed in his direction. “Jonas!”
My nightmare spun around. The beautiful green of his eyes was glossy black. Bright or shadowed, I loved it all. I’d take it all. Jonas could laugh and tease, or he could slaughter and torture. If he was mine, what else mattered?
Jonas hesitated for half a breath, then shoved through the rising alver army.
Five paces, two, then my arms hooked around his neck. I clung to him, legs around his waist, face buried in the warmth of his skin.
“Skadi.” He held me against him, his mouth against my throat, kissing me across my jaw, my neck, behind my ear. “Gods, let me see you.”
He pulled back, brushing hair from my eyes. I gave him a heartbeat to inspect my face before I kissed him. I kissed him the way I ought to have done before watching him walk down that corridor.
“You came,” I whispered against his lips.
“Not even an army of the gods would stop me. Remember?”
“Cover!” The shout came from Raum.
Jonas let me fall off his body and raced us behind a thick tree. He cradled my head against his heart in the same moment the air whistled with the sound of arrows flinging into the wood. One steel tip thudded into the trunk in front of us.
Jonas jolted and tightened his grip around my body.
When the shower of elven arrows ceased, alvers in the shadows returned the fire. Their arrows did not merely strike the wall of the palace, they sparked in flames or rattled the stone, crumbling one watchtower.
“Dipped in explosive elixirs,” Jonas was quick to explain.
“I can’t use my affinity.” I held out my wrists.
For a breath, Jonas seemed frozen, his thumb gently touching the bloodied skin around the white iron. “I’ll peel the skin off their bones.”
“Agreed, but let me help do it.”
With a gleam in his black eyes, Jonas plucked his tricky whalebone from his belt and had the levers keeping the manacles around my wrists opened in a few clever maneuvers. He hovered his mouth close, a devious smirk on his face. “Be monstrous, Wife.”