Page 5

H e did it again.

Come .

Oh, I wanted to squirt lemons in his eyes every time he said that.

But I trusted his honor more than any other elf in his kingdom, so I followed him. He had upheld that honor, protecting me when it was inconvenient and not hurting me when I argued with him. His honor might be the one thing that kept me alive now.

And he didn’t return to the Dining Hall.

He clipped through the stone corridors and up spiraling staircases twice as fast as I would have liked. He probably wanted to get rid of me. Was he still mad at me? I had definitely managed to poke his temper, but I did not feel bad about it—his arrogance and ego still needed to deflate.

Unless …

What if kings were meant to be arrogant? Perhaps knowing their people depended on them bred a sort of self-importance that I just hadn’t encountered yet.

I shook my head and rubbed my chest again. Motab had told me the ability to see magic was rare, but it had never bothered me until today. Now, the magic that bound me to the king looked like a string emerging from my chest… and the sight of it made my chest itch. I was almost tempted to ask for the magic-voiding shackles again, just so I didn’t have to look at it.

But, no. I couldn’t block my magic sight. My ability to see magic was my best hope for finding Motab.

The king stopped in front of a door and opened it.

I had been so preoccupied with thoughts of magic and Motab that I hadn’t noticed the carpets, drapes, and tapestries that decorated this hall. I peeked into the room he’d opened. Opulent rugs covered the entire stone floor and tasteful furniture matched more drapes.

I pulled my gaze out of the room and asked the king, “Where are we?”

A corner of his mouth twitched somewhere between a smile and a smirk as his grim, low voice answered. “I have decided to contain you in a room.”

I nearly clapped, but instead clasped my hands together while a wide smile scrawled across my face. This absolutely made up for not warning me about his people’s dislike of fae.

I tried to restrain my excitement at not living in the dungeon, but it leaked out anyway. I’d never practiced restraining emotions before. “Thank you. I promise to stay inside until you give me permission to leave.”

I ran into the room without waiting for him to answer. We didn’t need to even see each other anymore. I could live happily in this room, and he could go do all his kingly drekkan duties with his frosty glares, intense magic, and monster muscles.

He said something about a washroom and sitting space before he left and closed the door. I hardly listened. I spread my arms and spun in a circle. I was so giddy at the prospect of being a prisoner in a room fit for a princess that I twirled over and over, faster, and faster, until the movement made me light-headed. I angled myself so I collapsed on the most comfortable bed I’d ever touched in my life.

I lay on a soft comforter and stared at the layers of drapes while I caught my breath. I wasn’t normally so dizzy, but this entire day had been unusual.

And I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

A pang of hunger emphasized the point, but I didn’t have food. Maybe I should have taken something when the king told me to?

No, I did not want to eat in front of all his horrible, prejudiced elves.

I reached into my deep right-hand pocket and pulled out the little book I’d been reading earlier today, before everything changed. Winter Birds by Conrad Blackwater. My heart tightened a little, like it always did, when I saw my father’s name on one of his books, but I pushed the pain aside with the comfort that he’d left so many pieces of himself behind for us. He was still a small part of my life, even if it was only in the books he’d written.

My fingers tightened on the pages. If I was going to live here for the rest of my life, this book would be the only one I could touch that he’d also touched. I breathed in a slow, deliberate breath. Perhaps loving the same sorts of books he had loved could remind me of him. I’d seen a bright red bird early this morning and wanted to figure out what it was called. I returned to the pages in front of me, looking for a similar image to the one I held in my memory. I hadn’t had time to find the mystery bird before I’d felt a slip of my brother’s magic, like a summons, and followed it until—

A quick, but polite knock interrupted my thoughts. How long had I been reminiscing? Long enough for the king to eat and come back? Maybe, but not likely. And would he knock?

I carried my little book to the door, but then I paused. Did I really want to see anyone in this castle?

I debated with myself when a friendly voice called out, “We’ve brought food, but if you don’t want our company we can just leave it with you.”

Curious, I opened the door. Standing there with broad smiles, fresh clothes, and two giant trays loaded with meats, breads, green beans, fruit, and things I didn’t even recognize were the two elves who had gone out of their way to torment me earlier. Why would they bring me food?

I raised a brow. “Is it poisoned?”

“No.” The blond one laughed and shook his head. “We may not be Sirun’s best citizens, but we’re not murderers.”

“Besides.” The darker-haired one shot a glare at the first. “We promised we’d protect you. We’re not liars either.”

I couldn’t remember their names. I tipped my head to try to decide if they spoke the truth, but the food’s aroma drew my attention back to it. I pursed my lips. “What is your intention here?”

“Well, we’re hungry too,” the first said. “If you’re not opposed to the idea, we thought we’d eat with you.”

I opened the door farther and tucked my book back in my pocket. I doubted they’d risk their king’s anger again, and I did want to eat.

Then again, the king was not here. Would anything hold them to their promises from earlier?

“Thanks.” The blond one led the way through the door. He whistled a low, impressed call as his eyes swept around the room. “The queen’s quarters.” He turned his gaze to me. “How did you manage that?”

The queen’s quarters? I raised a brow. Was he making this up? Another joke for his entertainment at my expense?

His look turned more sincere. “You didn’t know, did you?”

I shook my head, hoping my ignorance did not invite him to embarrass me further.

He strolled to a door across from the bed and opened it into a lavish sitting room. He waved his hand, and light rushed to the ceiling like a floating lamp. “My lady,” he called with an extravagant bow as he held the door open. “Allow me to show you the rest of your quarters.”

My two guests arranged the food on a table and waited for me to sit before they pulled chairs up for themselves and started eating.

I stared at the food, still unsure if I trusted the two men—elves—in front of me. Motab and Alastor could both enchant food and other items with little effort. If these elves could do the same—

“You still don’t trust us?” the blonder elf asked. “Even though we’re eating it right in front of you?”

The other elf groaned. “Koan, don’t goad her. The king said he didn’t even know if she needed food. She is fae, remember?”

“Half fae,” I corrected, repeating Koan’s name in my mind. “But what did you mean by that?”

A deep blush ran up the sides of the elf’s neck, and he dropped his gaze to the table. “Apologies, My Lady. I wasn’t trying to mock you. We just didn’t know how often fae—or half fae—like to eat.”

I pursed my lips and tried to think, but they stopped eating and waited for me to answer. The quiet unnerved me. “I am extremely hungry,” I admitted, “but I think it is more likely that you two are trying to poison me than feed me.”

Koan laughed. “Direct, aren’t you?”

The other elf smirked, rolled his eyes, and picked up a tiny loaf of bread before muttering, “I’ll let the laughing kea over there convince you.”

Koan tossed a grape in his mouth. “Thanks, Jolter.” Jolter. That was the dark-haired elf’s name. Koan turned to me. “Why do you think we want to poison you?”

I raised my chin. They might be stronger, faster, and more magical than me, but I refused to be intimidated. Or rather, I refused to show it. I was no longer chained, but if these two elves wanted to hurt me, no dungeon bars separated us here. “You had no problems with attacking me in the dungeon. You only stopped when the king burst in. You’ve found me unprotected again and hungry. Why wouldn’t you take advantage of that?”

“Ah,” Koan said as he smiled and leaned closer to me. “Because of a tiny detail you’ve left out. You see, our opinions on the entertainment value of threatening powerful, but temporarily vulnerable, half-fae have changed considerably in the last hour.”

Could he be serious? “And why is that?”

He waved a hand toward me in a grand gesture. “Because someone from that very particular demographic went out of her way to protect us.” He tossed another grape in his mouth and pointed at me again. “Your turn. Why would you argue in our favor against the king when he was clearly protecting you from us?”

I eyed his grapes, and he set the bowl of them in front of me. I stared at them. He cracked a lop-sided grin and slowly lifted a grape from the bowl to his mouth, keeping his eyes and that mischievous smile glued to my face.

I picked up a grape and rolled it between my thumb and forefinger, shifting my gaze from Koan to the piece of fruit. “You remind me of my brother,” I said, not lifting my eyes from the grape. Alastor would never poison someone, even someone he hated or feared. He would tease and taunt, though probably not as violently as these two had. But if they had anything in common with my brother, they wouldn’t pretend to be my friends while deliberately poisoning me.

I lifted my eyes to Jolter. He acted as light-hearted as Koan, but he also carried a more mature air, like an undercurrent that ran hidden by the more jovial surface waves.

He answered my unspoken questions. “Truly. The food is safe. Think of it as a peace offering. The king actually suggested we bring it to you. He said even fae need to eat eventually.”

I set the grape in my mouth and chewed it slowly. It had to be the sweetest, most perfect grape I’d ever eaten. If I was to live with elves for the rest of my life, I couldn’t spend the entire time suspicious of every scrap of food—especially if it was to be this delicious.

And if I died from this meal, at least my mouth would be happy.

Koan handed me a cracker he’d just finished spreading with cheese. I took it and nodded my thanks. He raised a similar cracker to mine, like a celebratory drink, and I returned the gesture. As our crackers touched over the bowl of grapes, he grinned and said, “To a little more trust between elves and fae.”

Jolter leaned in and tapped a piece of rolled ham on a skewer against our crackers. “To food that brings people together!”

“Hear, hear!” Koan laughed and looked at me expectantly.

I grinned back at them. “To spur-of-the-moment, life-changing choices. May they all bring us more good food than we expect!”