Page 46 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen (The Heartless and the Wicked #4)

TWENTY-FOUR – KOLFINNA

“Kolfinna?” Blár touched her back tentatively, and she was brought back to the moment. She bit her bottom lip and turned to him sharply. “We need to keep moving. Maybe we can see more.”

“Are you?—”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

She didn’t want to face the war of conflicting emotions broiling within her, so she tamped them down and went to the door Elin had stormed off to. Ripping it open, she expected to find the little girl pouting inside, but there was nothing. Quite literally. Just a void of black.

Kolfinna slammed the door shut, her heart racing; what would have happened if she fell inside? Would she perpetually fall into darkness? An uneasiness stirred in the pit of her stomach.

“Look.” Blár pointed to an arched black doorway beside the hearth. “That wasn’t there before.”

“Is the sword leading us somewhere?”

“Maybe it’s the sword’s memories?”

“But why—why is it showing us—” She couldn’t even say her name out loud. Her throat constricted. Did she really want to learn more about her mother? It was better to see her as a wicked woman than someone who had her own problems. Someone who was real .

Blár held his hand out toward her, a seriousness on his face that she couldn’t ignore, and she slipped her hand in his.

He tightened his hold on her, and they went through the door.

She waited, with bated breath, for something to go wrong.

For them to fall into a void—but the doorway opened to a ballroom.

Hundreds of well-dressed people swarmed the hall; the women wore gauzy, beautiful dresses with gems sewn in the material, their bodies dripping with jewels, and the men wore fashionable silk attire with gold, silver, and all sorts of colors that matched their eyes and the glittering scenery.

“What in the world is going on?” Blár whispered from beside her. The door behind them shut with a loud bang, and when they spun around, it had vanished all together.

Kolfinna stared around herself while feeing equal parts awe and unease.

Blár’s mouth grazed the outer shell of her ear, and she shivered, her gaze darting to him as he murmured, “The princesses are up on the dais.”

True enough, the two princesses were on an elevated section at the far end of the room.

The king and queen sat on a throne, their faces bright and cheery.

Beside them, the two princesses were on a couch.

One of the princesses sat straight, her hands folded on her lap neatly, and her bright gold hair wound up into an intricate updo, with jewels interlaced with the braided sections.

She was elegant and proud; with a smile that evoked a fierceness akin to fire.

Beside her, Aesileif paled in comparison, and not just because her hair was a few shades lighter than Elin’s brilliant gold.

Her gaze was downcast, her fingers fiddling together, and her eyes so wide and fearful that she appeared like a mouse trapped in a lion’s den.

She was just as frail as she had when she was a child, even though she looked to be Kolfinna’s age at this point.

A strange feeling overcame Kolfinna. This was her mother? The wicked queen? Why was she so … fragile?

It didn’t make sense.

She was known to be evil beyond evil. She’d enslaved hundreds of thousands of humans. She bathed in blood. She … she had so many monstrous stories surrounding her.

And yet, of the two, Elin seemed more determined. More powerful. More … queenly.

“She’s moving,” Blár murmured.

Aesileif descended the dais and entered the throng of dancers and mingling fae; all of them made room for her, and yet they were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay her much attention other than a nod or a polite smile.

In fact, most of the people surrounding the dais were lining up to speak to Elin, who smiled graciously at everyone.

A part of Kolfinna wanted to stay and watch Elin; to see if there was a mistake, somewhere, that she was Aesileif after all. But she had a sense that she was supposed to follow Aesileif and figure something out. Because she was sure the cursed sword was showing these memories for a reason.

Kolfinna tugged Blár’s hand as they wove through the thicket of people; she lost Aesileif’s thin frame more than once, but Blár, who stood above most of the fae, led her in the correct direction.

Aesileif was headed to the back of the hall, where fewer people were mingling, and where there were doors leading outside.

“She doesn’t exactly seem to exude confidence,” Blár said after a moment.

“I was thinking the same thing. What do you think changed?”

“Why do you think anything has changed?”

She turned to him with a frown. “Surely, you don’t think that frightened girl remained the same throughout her reign?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Or maybe she was used as a puppet.”

An unsettling, strange feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to imagine that—her mother, the wicked queen, being used by other people and propped up to be the villain in the history books.

But then …

She glanced over her shoulder at Elin, who was smiling diplomatically at one of the fae speaking to her; even though she was young, she exuded the poise, the regality, of someone who was born for the position of queen. Someone who had carved herself into becoming a fearsome leader.

So, what happened? Why had Aesileif become the queen instead? She couldn’t imagine the beautiful woman—her aunt—stepping down for her sister, nor could she imagine someone defeating her. Had Aesileif done something? Had she poisoned her, perhaps?

Finally, they reached the set of doors just as Aesileif touched the gold door handle.

She yanked it open and slipped outside, and Kolfinna and Blár trailed behind her.

The fae princess rushed to the banister of the stone balcony and dry-heaved, her thin shoulders hunching together.

Against the moonlight, her skin appeared almost silvery-gray.

“Are you all right?” a smooth, hauntingly familiar voice asked softly.

Aesileif stifled a gasp and spun to her right.

Several feet away, a young man stood at the end of the balcony.

Long, sharp fae ears. Red eyes that glowed in the night.

Pale skin, and black, demonic wings that flared behind sinisterly; Kolfinna immediately recognized Vidar.

He was much younger here, about her age too.

His shoulder length white hair gleamed like starlight.

His face was unscarred, and he was beautiful in a lethal kind of way.

Something sparked in his eyes—recognition.

He moved gracefully as he lowered himself to a bow. “Forgive me,” he said with a frown. “I did not mean to startle you, nor did I realize you were the princess.”

Aesileif regarded him coolly. “I know you. You’re the elf boy.”

He straightened, and a muscle on his jaw jumped.

“You bested everyone in the Black Castle last month.” She swallowed, and ran a hand over her goosebump ridden arms. There was a harshness in her voice that sounded bitter to Kolfinna’s ears. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding this place? Why are you hiding here?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be pretending to be important in there?” he retorted sharply, his eyes narrowing as he jerked a thumb at the balcony doors she had come from.

Aesileif flinched, eyes going wide. “H-how dare you.”

“I am not a guard,” he said as if that answered something. “I have declined the king’s offer. I have no plans to stay with you fae.”

She frowned. “You declined ? Why would you do such an absurd thing? And you are part fae yourself.”

He scoffed and Kolfinna inched closer to them both without thinking. Vidar crossed his arms over his chest. He was dressed in dark, simple clothing. Such a contrast to everyone inside, who was garbed in the richest finery.

“Why should I socialize with haughty fae and arrogant princesses?” He stared at her pointedly, his gaze flicking over her fancy dress.

His disgust was nearly palpable. “I am only here as a formality. Once this revolting display of wealth is done, I will take my leave and go far, far away from your kind.”

The two stared at each other; Vidar in barely concealed loathing, and Aesileif in shock. Blár drew closer to Kolfinna in that moment, his hand pressed on her lower back as he whispered, “These are your parents?”

Her throat tightened and she found it hard to speak, so she only bobbed her head, unable to look at him for fear of what he would find on her face. It was wild to think that these two young people, who seemed to clash on their first meeting, would one day be a force to be reckoned with.

“You … look like him.” Blár frowned, as if that admission soured his mood.

“As I’ve been told,” she said with a scowl of her own. While Vidar’s features fit his male face and expressions, they didn’t work well on her. At least, she didn’t think they did. She would have rather looked like Aesileif, who was stunningly, timelessly beautiful.

“Where will you go?” Aesileif asked.

“That is none of your concern,” he answered with a darkening scowl.

“You are rather rude.”

His eyebrows rose. “Rude?”

Aesileif opened her mouth to respond to him, but her image was fading once more. Kolfinna leaped forward, trying to grab the woman, but her fingers slipped through her body.

“No!” But it was too late: the memory, or whatever it was, had already faded, leaving them both on an empty balcony. Kolfinna’s hands fisted and she stared at the spot her parents had been. She wanted to see more of their interactions. She needed to know more.

“What if these are all lies?”

“Excuse me?”

Blár leaned forward over the railing, peering at the distant lights in tiny houses, the spires of tall buildings brushing the midnight skies, and the thick, aged trees that spotted the city. Mountains scraped along the horizon, the stars dazzling above.

“All of this,” he murmured, “could all be a lie, Kolfinna.”