Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jack
King Maelthar leaned back into his chair. He exhaled through his nose, a sound more weighted than it should’ve been, and with a voice smooth as poured oil, he said, “Let us cut to the chase, Prince Drakmyr. You’re likely wondering why I sent an escort when I already ride with a warband.”
Setting my goblet down, I eyed the king with cool eyes. “It wasn’t lost on me.”
The king’s mouth lifted, something that might’ve been a smile if it hadn’t looked like a wolf baring its teeth.
“Despite my support of your mother’s waged war against Yulreth, I do not like to invite chaos into my court.
The queen’s gamble weakened more than just trees.
It opened holes in every realm’s defenses. Every court, save for Yulreth’s.”
“They re-erected their shields using Odin’s magic,” I said. “Not every court had such resources.”
“No,” Maelthar agreed, “but the fact remains: Yulreth now holds a strategic advantage. That alone should concern you.”
I studied him. “Do you believe they’ll attack Verrindor?”
The king swirled the dark red wine in his goblet. “I believe they could. I supported your mother’s decision to reclaim the Solstice holiday. Not for her, but because the Solstice, though steeped in Skadgardian tradition, feeds the magic of the entire realm.”
“And you believe Yulreth stole the magic of the Solstice?” Sylvi asked.
The king’s gaze snapped to hers. “I do, Captain. The Solstice belonged to the Northern Kingdoms before Saint Nicholas turned it into his personal currency. His is an empire built on lies fed to the humans, siphoned from magic meant to be shared. And now the humans have perverted it, commodified it as if it isn’t a sacred rite rooted in our most ancient laws of magic. ”
“Humans modified their traditions and belief systems; Saint Nicholas simply adapted. He didn’t steal anything,” Sylvi snapped.
The king’s eyes sharpened. “Does your queen know the captain of her guard sympathizes with her adversary?”
With my hand still under the table, I gently squeezed her knee. Right now was not the time for her to challenge the king so directly.
“What my captain means to say,” I added coolly, trying to diffuse the situation, “is that Yulreth didn’t take the Solstice.
Humans stopped believing in it. We lost it to time and the evolution of their world.
With all due respect, Your Magesty, it seems to me this is more about Yulreth being the keepers of the Christmas holiday and you believing they shouldn’t have access to that magic. ”
“I don’t think Yulreth should be the only ones who do,” Maelthar countered.
“Yulreth alone has unfettered access to the human realm. They walk between worlds. They’ve hoarded relics bestowed upon Nordveld by the gods.
Knowledge that was once accessible to all is stored in their archives.
And now they have access to human technology—technology we know nothing of.
” He leaned forward. “Tell me, Prince, do you truly see no danger in that?”
“What I see is a realm that has never waged war against any of its bordering neighbors. Any time Yulreth has ever raised an army, it has been in defense. And before you ask…yes, my mother knows exactly how I feel about the war she waged against them.”
From across the table, Isolde scoffed into her goblet. “For a fae male who fancies himself as a fearsome and cunning prince, you’re terribly ignorant and underwhelming.”
My eyes widened, but I sat back in my seat, crossing my arms, my lips curling at the corner. “Please, enlighten me, Princess. I’m eager to hear your wisdom.”
She smiled like a feline about to pounce, resting her hands on the table as if she were addressing a child she had no patience for.
“You come to Yulreth’s defense without fully understanding the risks, Your Highness.
” Irritation bled across her face, staining her cheeks red.
“It’s not just Yulreth’s access to the portals and human advanced technology that pose a threat; it’s the humans themselves we need to fear. ”
Sylvi shifted in her seat next to me, her gaze fixed on the elf. “And what of you, Lord Thandoril? As diplomatic advisor to Verrindor and emissary of the Star Court, do you believe the humans are the real threat here?”
Lord Thandoril inched forward. “My people have been studying humans since our worlds became entangled. How they think and function. Their weapons, their ideologies. We have good reason to believe that they are at the crest of discovering the true existence of our world, of realizing their belief systems are not all based on myths and legends.”
“Is knowledge such a detriment to a people?” Ravin asked.
The elf spun toward my friend. “Lord Valeska, if what we believe to be true about the world of men is accurate, there’s a possibility they could bring ruin to our lands.”
Sylvi leaned back, her head tilted, fingers drumming on the table. “All you have is speculation. Or do you have any actual proof that justifies your fear of the human realm, or Yulreth’s access to it?”
The elf inclined his head, fingers tracing the rim of his chalice with idle grace.
“I don’t argue that Yulreth has long walked the path of peace, Captain,” he said.
“But power, even when wielded with the noblest intent, grows dangerous when left unchecked. Access to the human world has gifted them innovations our kind cannot yet comprehend. Wanting, needing, that same knowledge is vital if we are to evolve as a people. And despite their peaceful image, Saint Nicholas rarely permits even the Star Court within his borders. Not to inspect the portals, not to share what he’s learned. ”
I resisted the urge to challenge Thandoril’s logic.
Not because I agreed, but because now wasn’t the moment to stoke the flames of suspicion.
Yulreth had always cloaked itself in secrecy, yes, but not out of arrogance or greed.
They were favored by the gods, chosen to protect certain relics and truths older than any crown.
And that favor had long stirred resentment among the other realms.
“Magic should be guarded by those the gods have chosen as stewards,” King Maelthar added, gesturing toward the elf with a sweep of his ring-heavy hand as if only the Star Court was worthy of that honor.
“Saint Nicholas’s refusal to engage in diplomacy is a threat not only to Verrindor, but to all the neighboring realms. If he will not share what he’s gathered, then a governing force must be put in place, one that can oversee every portal and ensure nothing enters our world without invitation. ”
I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And you believe you should be that governing force?”
Maelthar stiffened, even Isolde looked surprised by my boldness.
“I believe Skadgard and Verrindor, with oversight from the Star Court, are the most equipped to shepherd that endeavor.”
“Is that why you’ve offered your great-granddaughter to Skadgard? This marriage alliance is just another way for you to gain more power?”
The king’s friendly facade melted like frost beneath a rising sun. What replaced it was something ancient and dangerous. The gaze of a predator who no longer needed to bare teeth to prove he could kill you.
“Since you’ve chosen bluntness over diplomacy, allow me to return the favor, princeling,” Maelthar said, each word clipped and measured.
“Your mother was given to Skadgard as a strategic appeasement. Your kingdom was drowning in debt, teetering on the brink of collapse. We offered a princess, a fortune. And in return, we were promised an heir—one who would bind our courts by blood. You are that heir. This union does not earn you favor, Prince; it fulfills a bargain.”
His words struck a vulnerable part of my heart, one I wasn’t keen on acknowledging.
I knew that was all I was to my mother. A debt repaid.
A tool forged for unity and leverage. Not a son, not a prince.
But hearing it laid bare like this without shame, cut into something that already felt raw and flayed.
But I made sure all he saw was the cool ice in my eyes.
Lord Thandoril smoothed out the sleeves of his silver tunic.
“Prince Jokullson, with your marriage to Princess Isolde, the two most ancient bloodlines in all seven kingdoms will be consecrated as one united front. It sends a message not just to Yulreth, but to every court in Nordveld. Everyone will think twice before moving against either of you.”
“Forgive me, Lord Thandoril,” Ravin drawled, lifting his goblet in a lazy mock-toast, his smile a razor-thin line, “but I struggle to believe the Star Court, who so rarely stains their hands with the dirt of Nordveld’s politics, is advocating for this union merely to preserve balance.”
The elf’s eyes flared, the faintest crack in his otherwise ageless composure. His grip on the chalice remained graceful, but I caught the subtle way his shoulders pulled tighter beneath his robes.
But before he could respond, Isolde turned to Ravin, her voice sweet as poisoned berries. “What are you insinuating, Lord…” She let the word dangle, a predator circling before the pounce.
“Valeska,” Ravin supplied, unflinching. “And I’m not insinuating, Your Highness. I’m observing.”
Her smile twisted, cold and bitter. “You think the Star Court has sinister intentions in supporting an agreement forged long before you drew your first breath?”
I saw where Ravin was going before he opened his mouth. Knew him well enough to hear the edge beneath his calm.
“Yulreth, Princess, as we all know, was once a scion of the Star Court, until they broke away in rebellion centuries ago. The peace that followed has always been uneasy. The kind of quiet that hums before a storm. And now…” he trailed off just long enough to make us lean in, “I wouldn’t put it past the Star Court to back a united Verrindor-Skadgard front just to force Yulreth into opening their borders so they can lay claim to the knowledge stored in their archives. ”