A Cold Diamond
Roxelana Zorya didn’t know what other families did for the holiday, but hers threw a party. Not the kind she’d read about in books and seen in films, with warm smiles and comfortable sweaters and baked goods.
Her family’s tradition was… colder.
She observed the soiree with tired eyes.
In her gloved hand, champagne bubbled in a crystal flute.
It was still full. Her aunt and uncle were busy discussing important things across the ballroom, but that didn’t mean she was unobserved.
If her aunt caught her sipping alcohol, she’d never hear the end of it.
It was bad form to not have a drink in her hand, but it was even worse to risk getting drunk around influential company.
And her aunt and uncle didn’t keep any other type of company.
Being related to one of the Five Families meant they held a certain sway, and being one of the families that firmly believed in keeping the old order of things meant they only associated with elves like them.
Roxelana hated it. All of it.
She hated being locked in the house. She hated the idea of being forced into a loveless union. She hated the fawning and the snide comments and the sheer, unearned audacity of every single self-important asshole in the room.
When an elderly woman she knew had an unbetrothed son made eye contact with her, she quickly pretended to hear her name across the ballroom.
Her silk gown — bias-cut and a perfect shade of cream to complement her blue skin — brushed her ankles as she did her best to hurry without looking like she was doing exactly that.
People murmured at her as she passed beneath the massive crystal chandelier, offering platitudes and well-wishes they didn’t mean.
She gave them all practiced smiles but didn’t stop.
If she slowed down, someone would catch her, and then there’d be no extracting her from the uncomfortable conversations her family’s allies wanted to have.
The parties had never been comfortable before, but turning thirty had made them far, far worse. Thirty was when she legally assumed her position as heir, and when she was eligible for a union with any of the scions of the assembled families — which she had absolutely zero interest in.
The more people tried to catch her attention, their eagerness to attach themselves to the sole heir of Zorya family giving them a mad, slack-jawed sort of look, the worse the sense of suffocation became.
The weight of the glittering diamond collar around her neck got heavier and heavier, until she imagined she could feel it cutting into her flesh to draw that precious green blood from her veins.
None of these people, her aunt and uncle included, cared about her.
They didn’t even care about the holiday.
They cared about using her, and they cared about having an excuse to show off their wealth — which didn’t hold a candle to the inheritance her parents left her.
The fact that throwing this party put her on display like a piece of meat up for sale was an added benefit.
They’d been waiting for the moment they could sell her off in a union for most of her life. Doing so would not only buy them powerful allies in the traditionalist circles they ran in, but it would also entitle them to a significant pay-out from her parents’ will.
And that wasn’t something they would risk twice.
She didn’t have a specific goal when she crossed the ballroom. Only the overwhelming desire to get away, to get as far from every single one of these elves as possible propelled her toward the exit. Instinct clawed at her, demanding she run as fast as her heels could take her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she spied her aunt and uncle with their heads bent together. They were whispering with one of the top contenders for her union contract. If nothing else made her want to run, it was that.
Roxelana slipped out the door that led to the sprawling garden. Her breath exploded out of her in quick, desperate puffs of fog as the cold hit her. Portland glittered below her, dusted in a light snow, and the manicured gardens of her family’s home stretched out beyond the patio.
Abandoning her champagne on the stone patio railing, she quickly descended the steps into the garden.
It was unlikely someone would follow her.
It seemed that she was the only elf in the world who actually enjoyed being out in nature, so none of her would-be suitors would be inclined to accompany her.
And it wasn’t like her aunt and uncle were worried about her running away. They’d made sure that was impossible.
The diamond choker heated against her neck the farther she got from the main house. Soon enough it would start to vibrate, and then… Well, she’d only tested that once before, and it’d been agonizing enough to keep her in line ever since.
Roxelana’s heels sunk into the fine gravel of the garden path with every step, but she didn’t let it stop her. Snow settled on her silvery hair and bare shoulders as she sought out her favorite spot in the garden.
Hidden below the wispy boughs of a stooped and bare willow was a small, icy pond. And tucked beside them both was a wrought iron bench she’d spent nearly every afternoon of her life reading on.
Ignoring the snow, she sank onto the bench with a weary sigh. Her gloved fingers curled around the edge of the seat as her shoulders slumped and her head bowed. The weight of what was possibly happening in that ballroom without her input, let alone consent, made her feel… old.
Old and tired and so, so sad.
She’d never had a lot of hope before. It wasn’t like her fate was a surprise. Her aunt and uncle had been upfront with her about their plans from the moment they took custody of her. But it all seemed so much easier to deal with when she didn’t have that single, shining moment of life to cling to.
Her first trip to the capital. Her first exposure to the outside world. Her first introduction to Others.
Her only. Her last.
All outside privileges had been revoked. She’d become a flight risk. For five years, her world had been nothing but denied instinct and the threat of a looming union she couldn’t stomach.
“I don’t regret it,” she whispered to him, as she often did when she sat on the bench. “If all I got was a moment, I’m still grateful for it.”
Roxelana leaned back against the cold iron to stare up at the sky. A heavy moon glowed through the clouds, illuminating the fluffy snowflakes that spiralled down to kiss her cheeks. She imagined what it would be like to soar through those clouds.
No family to chain her. No choker to keep her prisoner. No fear or sadness.
If she had wings, she could find him.
But she didn’t. In this life, she had more money than the gods and a future of misery planned out for her down to the last detail.
Closing her eyes, she imagined the consort she’d only known for a moment. “May you find warmth on the darkest night,” she whispered. “Because I won’t.”