Page 17 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen (The Heartless and the Wicked #4)

“It would have been better if you’d died!

” Kolfinna’s voice rose in the tense room.

She clenched her hands together tightly, her stomach twisting into knots.

Tears welled in her eyes and she quickly blinked them away.

She didn’t want to hear any of this—that he had loved her, that he had sacrificed so much for her, that he’d wanted to be a part of her life.

It complicated things. “You shouldn’t have involved me in your plans. You should have just … just given up?—”

“You are my daughter,” he snarled, and she shrank back.

The fire in the tented room dimmed, his power radiating from him in thick, nauseating waves.

“You think it was easy for me to have you sealed away, and for you to be the key to awaken us all in case our council failed? I did not want to put that burden on you, but we had no choice.” His wings twitched, as if he wanted to unfurl them.

“You do not understand the burdens of a monarch,” he continued in a low voice.

“If we fail, our people will die, and that’s exactly what happened.

We were the majority in this country, and now look at us. A dying race.”

Kolfinna pressed her trembling lips together and dropped her hands into her lap. She was no longer hungry, no longer in the mood to scream or shout or argue. She hated the conflicting feelings swirling in her heart.

“Our failure—no, my failure”—Vidar gripped his knife so tightly that his pale hand turned bloodless—“will always haunt me, because this land is now starved of our people. The humans won, once, and look what they did with that power—they eradicated our race. And you think that they will not do that again, now that we are a threat to them once more? This time, they will ensure the complete genocide of our people. I cannot allow that to happen again.”

Silence filled the space between them, and Kolfinna found it hard to meet his gaze.

Minutes passed, and they both continued to eat again, this time keeping quiet.

She could barely taste the food. Not the beets, the broth-soaked, soggy bread, nor the chunks of dark meat.

She swallowed it down quickly. She was more than eager to get out of that tent, out of the stifling discomfort.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she squeaked, slurping down the last bits of the stew and setting the bowl down on the table. She finally met his gaze and held it this time. “You paired me up with Astrid so that I might feel sympathy for your cause. So that I might … join you.”

He lifted a white eyebrow. “Who are you referring to?”

“Astrid. The fae girl with the white hair. The one whose dreki I rode all the way here.”

He stared at her, unblinkingly. “I see.”

“Well? I know what you’re planning,” she said with a frown. She had thought to catch him off-guard, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“And what is that?” He stabbed a piece of meat, red juices oozing from it, and bit into it.

“You want me to empathize with her. You chose someone who I could get along with, someone who?—”

“Kolfinna.” He raised his hand and cut her off. “I don’t know every single soldier of mine by name, nor do I have an ulterior plan to force you into friendly relations with my army. Are you that shocked to find a fae warrior who is kind to you?”

She blinked, doubt and unease slowly creeping over her chest. “Well, no …”

“Most of the fae here do not view you as the enemy,” he said, but she found that statement to be untrue, because Rakel and some of the fae glared at her whenever they could.

Vidar sighed, long and slow, and it reminded her of someone who was tired— very tired—or someone whose patience was running dangerously thin.

“Trust me when I say I have better plans than to find a warrior here who will manipulate you into believing in our cause. If you feel sympathy for her, or become friends with her, that is because of her and you, not me. You will find that most fae and elves here have a tragic history with humans. If that makes you wish to join our cause, then we will gladly welcome you, but if it does not …” He lifted his shoulders.

“Our queen will be free with or without your cooperation.”

They both sat in another bout of awkward silence. Kolfinna had to hand it to him, she wasn’t exactly terrified out of her boots as she had been a few days ago, but there was an element about him that told her that he was still very lethal. That this calm persona was just a veneer for her.

“The power ranking system in this time period is rather fascinating,” Vidar said once he’d finished eating. He set the knife and utensils down on his empty plate and folded his hands on the table, peering over at her with an unreadable expression. “Where do you fall within its rank?”

Kolfinna eyed him warily. He wouldn’t gain anything if she divulged extremely basic knowledge on how it worked, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was another way for him to creep closer to her—to ask simple questions so she let her guard down when he asked something more important.

“Last time I was assessed, I was at yellow …” She stared down at the dregs of the stew in the bottom of her bowl. “But I was only assessed by my stone magic.”

“Stone magic?” He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow lifting.

“Yes …?” She raised her hand to the spot beside them on the ground, and forced a pebble to pull out of the earth and levitate to her palm, before she released it back with a quick flick of her wrist. “You know, stone magic.”

“We call it earth magic.” He stared at the ground where the small rock had burrowed. His gaze shifted back to her. “You were able to take control of our earthen creature with ease.”

She nodded, remembering the fight. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Where do you think I would fall in your power ranking?”

“Black,” she answered without hesitation. He had defeated Blár, one of the three black ranks in the country, so that automatically put him in that ranking.

“I find it hard to believe you are at a yellow,” Vidar said. “Is earth magic not your specialty?”

“I don’t know.” Kolfinna didn’t want to give out too much information; it was already enough that he had seen her use some of her magic.

She needed to appear as weak as possible so he, and the others, wouldn’t think of her as a threat.

She pushed the bowl away from her and jerked a thumb at the entrance. “Now that we’re done eating, can I go?”

He watched her carefully, seeming to weigh his options. Force her to stay and sour her mood further, or let her go as a sign of good faith? He seemed to go with the latter, because he gestured to the entrance.

"You may leave, if you wish it.”

Kolfinna jumped to her feet, nearly knocking the chair down. She gave him a small nod and headed toward the flap. The faster she was away from him, the faster this strange, confused knot in her chest would go away.

Right when she grasped the flap of the tent, Vidar called out her name. “Kolfinna.”

She turned in time to find him staring at her, his wings twitching, and an uncertain expression on his scarred face—a face that looked too hauntingly similar to her own.

“I would like to dine with you more often.” A pause, and then, “It was … pleasant.”

All they’d done was argue, but she didn’t say that. She only nodded.

“Sleep well.”

Kolfinna didn’t answer, just swiftly left the tent.