Page 2 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen (The Heartless and the Wicked #4)

Feathery wings. Gossamer thin wings. Scaly wings.

Wings that reminded her of bats, or butterflies, or moths.

Colorful wings. Black wings, white wings.

All sorts she could never have imagined.

It was almost too much. It made her own back, where she had two scars, tingle with … sorrow? Envy? She wasn’t even sure.

Rakel nodded to a few of the soldiers, who lowered their heads to her in respect. She glanced over her shoulder at Kolfinna, her red eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You’re not thinking of escaping this place, are you?”

Kolfinna snorted—or at least she wanted to, but it came out like an awkward laugh.

Rakel raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not.” She coughed, trying to hide her discomfort and embarrassment by staring straight ahead.

They passed by a window and Kolfinna cringed at her reflection—unkempt black and white hair, her whole front uniform stained with blood, and ash and blood and grime coating her face.

“Anyway, are we really going to meet him? The half-elf?”

“ Commander Alfaer.” Rakel stared straight ahead, an edge in her tone. “You will address him as such. Or, alternatively, Father works well too.”

Kolfinna bristled. “He’s not?—”

“Yes, yes.” The elf woman waved her hand dismissively, not even bothering to shoot her a look. “You’ve made your point clear, but the fact remains that you are Kolfinna Viearsdóttir , daughter of Commander Vidar Alfaer.”

They went down a flight of stairs and all at once, the heavy, cloying dark mana she had witnessed on the battlefield seemed to flare in every crook and cranny of the wide main corridor. Instantly, her hands grew clammy and she couldn’t stop from fidgeting with her torn sleeve.

Kolfinna knew, even before they stopped at a set of double doors seeming to lead to a conference room, that he was inside the room.

A powerful, dense mana radiated from the room, so overpowering that if she were a magicless human, or a weak fae, she was sure she would have fallen on her knees in absolute fear.

Rakel rapped her knuckles on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response. Kolfinna trailed behind her and kept her head held high—she didn’t want to appear feeble, even though all her instincts screamed at her to run far, far away from this place.

The half-elf was standing over a table with a map spread out across the entire surface. His dreki-like wings were scaly and impossibly black, tucked in almost lazily against his back, the edges forming an ominous shadow behind his lean frame.

“Sir.” Rakel nodded. “I’ve brought your daughter.”

His red eyes flicked over to her and almost immediately she flinched back.

Long white hair fell over his shoulders like streaks of moonlight, framing his sharp, angular face.

A giant, faded scar covered half his face, and trailed down his neck.

She could tell that it came from an explosion of sorts; not a sharp weapon, but something akin to fire, or perhaps light magic.

But despite the scarring, his face was impeccable.

Handsome. Sharp. Some would even say charming .

But the harsh glint in his eyes, his dark attire, and the heavy cloak of evil that radiated from him made his elvish beauty seem like a facade.

He reminded her so much of the nightmarish fae stories humans made up—the ones about a beautiful creature whisking people away into dark forests and making them disappear forever.

A slight twitch in his jaw was the only reaction he gave.

She actually wished he would put the helmet back on.

He somehow looked more terrifying like this, with his vicious, scarred beauty on display.

Here, with his face uncovered, she could tell that he was capable of far more cruelty than if he had simply appeared like a faceless, red-eyed, half-fae half-elf commander.

“Rakel, you may leave,” he said, voice full of authority and velvety smoothness. He didn’t rip his gaze away from Kolfinna’s, even when Rakel bowed and left the room.

They both stared at each other, neither speaking.

Kolfinna had been around powerful people before—Blár, Fenris, and even Hilda—but she couldn’t remember their presence being this overwhelming. Power seeped out of him in a way that made it hard to breathe.

She didn’t know what to say. He was her supposed father, and yet … she didn’t even know what to feel about it all … about him. All she could think as she stared into his murderous eyes was that he had almost killed Blár.

“Kolfinna …” He said her name with a slight dialect she didn’t recognize.

“You appear to be in good health. Especially without that mark.” He gestured toward her wrist, where the rune mark Sijur had placed on her had been, and then waved to one of the empty chairs at the table. “Take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

“Am I to assume you killed him?” She remained where she stood. She didn’t want to comply and sit anywhere; she didn’t even want to meet his eyes or search his face for all the similarities. Like their noses. Or the shape of their eyes. Or his mouth.

She hated it.

We don’t look like alike. We don’t ?—

“I would offer tea or biscuits, but I don’t believe you’d appreciate the hospitality.

” He curved his pale hands over the back of one of the many seats arranged around the table.

His eyes seemed to darken the more he stared at her, and the corners of his mouth dragged down.

She could practically taste the disappointment in the air.

The heaviness of it made her want to run, and yet she couldn’t. She was trapped.

Tea and biscuits. It sounded ridiculous.

“You … killed him, right?” She held up her wrist and tried to calm her trembling, but she couldn’t. “The man who marked me. Sijur.”

“Did you … care for him?” He tilted his head to the side, a look of mild curiosity flashing over his face.

It was quickly replaced by repulsion. “You, oddly enough, seem to care for humans. You even love one of them. Have humans treated you well your whole life? From what I’ve gathered from the small number of fae that have been left behind, this society does not favor our kind.

So why do you harbor such loyalty to these pathetic, treasonous creatures? Tell me, so I may understand you.”

Kolfinna’s mouth tasted like ash the longer she stood in the room.

She wanted to flee, like she always did whenever she was thrust into an uncomfortable position—and lately, that was pretty much always .

But there was nowhere to run to. The only window was behind the commander, and there was no way she could circumvent him, jump out the window, and somehow survive.

Unlike him, she didn’t have a pair of haunting wings to save her.

The half-elf lifted a white eyebrow and slowly glanced over his shoulder to where she was staring—the window—and then met her gaze again. “You will not survive the fall.”

That snapped her out of it.

“I wasn’t planning on jumping,” she said through clenched teeth. “You haven’t answered any of my questions.”

“Sit.”

“No—”

“You have questions. So do I.” He pointed to the chair closest to her and his voice hardened. “ Sit .”

Kolfinna wished she was tough enough to flip the table, scream, or make things all the more difficult for him and whatever he wanted from her, but the selfish desire to learn more won over her uncooperativeness. She needed answers. Her whole life seemed like a lie.

To spite him, she chose to sit on the chair he hadn’t pointed to. If he cared or noticed, he didn’t show it. He peered down at her with unreadable eyes and she found it hard to stare back.

She tried to focus on everything but him. The plain gray walls. The faded purple, red, and cream-colored geometric rug beneath the eight-chaired table. The soft roar of the fire in the hearth. The map spread out in front of her.

But despite her hardest efforts, she couldn’t shake her discomfort. He was staring too much.

“Are you going to say anything?” She said, raising her chin to glare at him, but shrinking away when his eyes narrowed slightly. Instead, she fidgeted with the edge of her blood-stained uniform shirt. “Well? I thought we would have a lot to say to one another, considering …”

Considering he was her father. Considering he needed her to free his queen. Considering that he’d imprisoned her. Considering … everything .

“You may call me Vidar,” the half-elf said, leaning his folded arms over the back of the chair. His wings spread out from behind him. It was terrifying to see him like that—staring down at her with his wings stretching wider—as if he might lunge over the table to attack her.

She swallowed. He needed her, so he wouldn’t hurt her … or would he? The fae were never kind to the humans, from what she had heard historically, and since he was from the time of the wicked Queen Aesileif, she doubted he would be any better.

“Vidar Alfaer,” he continued, never ripping his attention away from her. He pulled back the seat across from her and gracefully sat down, his wings flaring. “I am the commander of this army, and all the armies of Her Majesty. Likely you have not heard of me?—”

“I’ve read about you,” she blurted.

He blinked and turned his head slightly to the side. The firelight caught in his eyes, making them shine a brighter red, like blood welling from a fresh wound. “Truly?”

Kolfinna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grimacing. Why in the world had she said that? Was it because she didn’t want him to think she was clueless? Or something else?

“I, um, read about you in a diary written by a fae soldier.” She coughed and scraped at a dot of old food clinging to the edge of the table.

Her ears and face felt impossibly hot, like they had caught on fire at some point.

She wanted to bang her head on the table; why, oh why would she mention that ? “Nothing important, I suppose.”