Chapter 30 #2
I gave a shallow nod. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been gripping the reins until the leather bit into my gloves.
My insides shivered. Beneath my armor, my body was a trembling mess of nerves and dread. But outwardly, I put up a front. Chin lifted. Shoulders straight. Lips pressed into a tight line.
The second we crossed into the unseelie camp’s outer ring, a horn sounded and suddenly, we were surrounded.
Unseelie sentinels appeared from the shadows, stepping out from concealed positions in the tree line, their armor sleek and unfamiliar.
Midnight-hued scales over leather, with spiked pauldrons and embossed bracers.
Each bore a long spear in hand and a wickedly curved blade sheathed at their hip.
Fanning out, they flanked our procession in disciplined silence. Not a word was spoken, not even a greeting as they escorted us.
We dismounted once we reached the heart of the encampment, where a massive pavilion loomed, its canopy stitched with sigils and warding runes.
A very tall and willowy figure stepped forward to greet us, his strides gentle, as if gliding instead of walking.
He was not the king, but the male individual bore his authority as if he’d been blessed by the gods.
“What’s an elf doing in fae lands?” Astrid whispered, eyeing the male’s thin, elongated pointed ears poking out from a mane of straight, shoulder-length black hair.
The elf’s turquoise-colored, characteristically oval upturned eyes slid toward Astrid, as if he’d heard her words.
He smoothed out his silver-threaded silk tunic.
He did not appear to be royal, or a soldier, but he did have the unmistakable bearing of a high lord.
His eyes remained fixed on her for half a breath before he turned to Jack.
“Prince Jokullson Drakmyr of Skadgard. Welcome to Thrymgard Valley.” He bowed with a precise amount of deference, not a fraction more, his voice a melodic purr of courtesy and calculated politeness. “I am Lord Vaelen Thandoril from Eirenthal, His Majesty’s diplomatic advisor.”
“You are far from home, Lord Thandoril,” Jack said, eyeing the elf through slit eyes, one hand holding his helmet, the other on the hilt of his sword.
Lord Thandoril smiled with the slow elegance of one who had mastered stillness long before the rise of mortal kingdoms. His silver robes shimmered faintly beneath the light of the camp’s fire, like starlight caught in rivers of silk.
His hair fell sleekly down either side of his sharp, refined face.
The lines of his nose and jaw were sculpted in that otherworldly Elven way: ancient, noble, ageless.
His eyes glimmered like calm oceans beneath a bright sun.
“The stars do not dwell in only one sky, Your Highness.” His voice was velvet laced with iron, smooth yet unyielding, echoing with the cadence of some older time.
“The gods wove into our blood a singular purpose: to watch the loom of fate and ensure no one realm gains dominion unchecked. In times such as these, when ancient courts dare to entwine through marriage, our place is not beside one throne…but between them all.”
Jack’s spine was a solid beam, his demeanor colder than the frost that swam in his veins. “Yet Skadgard was not aware of the Star Court’s involvement.”
“The Star Court has always walked between realms, Your Highness. We were present when your mother married into the Frostbound Court. We observe, we advise…and when needed, we work to restore balance. This renewed union between Skadgard and Verrindor is no simple wedding; it is a fulcrum. And where fate pivots, we are always watching.” He held Jack’s gaze longer than necessary.
Jack didn’t blink. He met Thandoril’s prolonged stare with the calm of a still-bladed warrior, unflinching, poised, frigid.
His grip on Vetrslaga’s hilt eased, not in submission, but in calculated restraint.
“And yet balance is so often a matter of perspective,” Jack said smoothly.
“History remembers those who observed as much as it does those who acted. The line between the two is thinner than most care to admit.”
Jack stepped forward, the subtle gleam of frostfire flaring in his pupils.
“If the Star Court comes bearing only wisdom, then I welcome its counsel. But do not mistake youth for ignorance, Lord Thandoril. I know what fulcrums can become when too many hands lean upon them.” His gaze flicked deliberately toward King Maelthar’s pavilion, then back.
“You say this marriage is a hinge of fate,” Jack went on. “Then know this, Skadgard’s doors do not creak; they hold fast. And should they ever swing open…it will not be by the weight of others, but by my will.”
The elf offered Jack a frigid smile. “Of course, Your Highness.”
“I appreciate your vigilance as a subject of the Star Court. As I’m sure you’ll appreciate mine as heir to the Frostbound Throne.”
The elf inclined his head, measuring the prince.
“Then perhaps Nordveld is not as precariously perched as some believe,” he said, voice cool and lyrical.
He clasped his hands before him. “Your words do you credit, Son of Ice. The stars record more than omens; they remember character.” With a graceful nod that carried the weight of centuries, Thandoril stepped aside, offering us the path forward.
“King Maelthar awaits your presence in the royal pavilion. If you would follow me.”
Jack cocked his head. “And what of my envoy?”
“Your soldiers will be shown to the southern ward. Warm food, water, and rest will be made available to them. We trust they will find the king’s hospitality…sufficient.”
“Captain Isenwulf will accompany me,” Jack said, nodding toward me, his voice one I seldom heard, the one reserved for battlefields. “As per custom, my personal guard remains within reach.”
The elf’s gaze flicked to me, his eyes assessing my uniform as if I were some oddity, then he dipped his chin. “Very well. The captain may enter.”