Page 5

H ellebore stared at the Sun Elf in front of her.

King Taiyo.

This whole time…

He’d been King Taiyo since the moment he’d stood over her, catching her with the iris, and had still been King Taiyo when she’d nearly killed him trying to sedate him.

It’d been nice living while she’d had the chance.

Finally, he took a step toward her, speaking slowly, his melodic voice rumbling over the words. “I am the king.”

There was no point pretending to be agreeable now. She’d almost killed the king and there was no doubt that armies were being drafted to go back into the centuries-dead war she’d just resurrected.

So Hellebore had no qualms shooting out of her seat and hissing, “And you waited until now to tell me?”

Taiyo’s hand cut through the air as he gestured, voice sharpening, a slight laugh in his tone. “Who did you think I was? Who else would I be?”

“I don't know! I thought you were arresting me for stealing the iris. But now—” She switched back to Chymesian as her mind was spinning faster than her Iubian Elvish could keep up. “Now I'm utterly lost. Whose room is this?” She grabbed the skirts of the dress she wore as she advanced on him. “Whose clothes are these? Why am I here? What do you want with me?”

King Taiyo took a long, deep breath, closed his eyes, and she couldn't quite tell whether his pained expression was anger at her, frustration, or something else.

He also switched to Chymesian when he opened his eyes. His voice came out from his gritted teeth. “You're not playing dumb. You don't know.”

If Hellebore hadn’t already almost killed him, she would have been severely tempted to strangle him right then. Her voice came out much harsher than his. “ What am I supposed to know? Am I not being held as a hostage against my father?”

King Taiyo let out a laugh, but it was bitter and hollow. “This room is your room. Those clothes are yours. The preparations going on outside? They're for our wedding.”

He meant war. Surely, he meant they were preparing for war.

“Our wedding?” Hellebore stepped forward, narrowing her eyes, but not even her years trying to divest herself of worthless emotions like hysteria could stop her voice from pitching up as her breathing shallowed. She kept moving, unable to stop now. “You can't—you must be using the wrong word. Wedding— that word means a ceremony in which we would become husband and wife.”

He took another step closer, arm extended and palm facing her, but she was pacing too quickly for it to matter. His voice steadied, chasing her around the room. “I know what I said. We are betrothed. Your father approved of the match and claimed he sent word to you and you accepted.”

She pressed her palm against her stomach, but it did nothing to help her catch her breath. It was her turn to laugh, dangerously high and shallow. “And if that was true, what did you think I was doing digging up one of your irises? If you thought I'd agreed, why have you been treating me like a prisoner?”

“Let me explain.” Taiyo took a few steps, trying to follow her, but she just whipped around each time, putting more distance between them, her skirts whirling. “When I arrived at the academy and discovered you weren’t there, I thought it was simply a matter of cold feet, as you humans put it. I went after you in order to speak some reason into you and give you assurances about our match. Then, I caught you stealing an iris and you attacked me. Twice. It didn’t occur to me you didn’t know of our engagement when I’d been assured you did. I thought you'd feigned agreement, gone after the iris to lure me away, and were trying to kill me.”

Hellebore couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This couldn’t be possible. He was lying. He had to be. This was some elaborate scheme to cover up his treatment of her and his story didn’t even make sense.

She turned on her heel, coming to a stop, and he stumbled back to avoid crashing into her as she jabbed a finger at his chest, staring up at him. She said, “If I knew you were my supposed betrothed and the king of the Sun Elves, would I really try to kill you and send us to war?”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms. He wasn’t that tall for an elf, and thankfully she was on the taller side for a woman, but he managed to make every inch he had on her count as he glared at her. “First off, you're human. Second, you're an alchemist. Third, you’re a princess of Chymes. I absolutely believe you would try to kill me.”

“First off, if I was trying to kill you, why would I have sacrificed my escape to save you?” Her hand slapped her thigh as it dropped. “I gave you a sedative. Your reaction wasn't supposed to be that bad.”

“Maybe you're not as great an alchemist as your reputation states, then.”

Hellebore couldn’t stop her lips from parting in a sharp gasp as he cut her to the core. She took a step back, tilting her head to keep her eyes locked on his. Immediately, his eyes widened and he took another step toward her, shaking his head, hands out. “Princess, look, this was all a misunderstanding. Clearly, a letter was lost or—or—something. Something went wrong somewhere, and we both made assumptions, and there’s nothing to be done about it now. I can tell you what happened and what was supposed to happen. I asked your father for your hand in marriage. He agreed and led me to believe you had or would. I went to the academy to collect you and bring you here for our wedding where you would have been treated as my betrothed who was coming willingly, not a captive.”

Hellebore grabbed the back of the sofa, taking a few shaky steps until she could drop onto it, her silk skirts tangling in her legs as she clutched the arm.

Her father had promised her hand to the Sun Elf king without a word to her and expected her to go along with it.

Of course he hadn’t told her. She would have been out the window the second such a letter arrived with Palladia’s blessing and promise to protect her location. But that didn’t account for—

“Callahan—” She hated the way her brother's name cracked in her throat and came out as a breathy rasp. She hated the way King Taiyo stepped closer, eyes softening at the weakness. So she cleared her throat and hardened her voice. “My brother, Prince Callahan, he was present for this... agreement?”

King Taiyo came to a stop beside the chair closest to her. His voice was softer as he said, “He was. He was present for it all. He accepted my terms, including our marriage.”

This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to be some pawn to be married off to secure alliances. She was the second born. She was meant to be Callahan’s right hand. The King's Alchemist.

Her father had cared little for the tradition and more for politics, always wishing he’d had more daughters with hands he could trade away. She’d known that, but Callahan—

If he had agreed... it meant he didn't want her to be his alchemist. He didn’t believe she was worthy of the title.

Could everyone else see through her supposed greatness but her and her aunt? Did everyone know Hellebore was an average alchemist at best?

How long had her brother been lying to her face and hiding the fact that he was looking for the first opportunity to have someone take her off his hands?

“I see.” Hellebore took a deep breath. “And... the King’s Alchemist, I know she wasn't there, but was she consulted?”

King Taiyo immediately scowled at the mention of Palladia, but his tone was restrained as he said, “I can't say with any certainty, given your father lied to my face about having spoken to you on the matter, but my terms included the King’s Alchemist having no part of our discussion. Your father at least appeared eager to leave her out. When I arrived at the academy for you, I didn't stick around long enough to have any discourse with her, not that I would have even if you hadn't run off.”

The elf didn’t come any closer, but even if he did, Hellebore wasn’t sure she would notice. Her voice came out of her mouth, but she had no awareness of speaking. It was like she was watching from the ramparts, a stranger in her own body, with no control over what happened next.

“Who... uh...” Her tongue was heavy and everything numb. “Was there a nobleman, an alchemist by the name of Emerson, my brother's friend—did he have any part in any of this?”

King Taiyo shook his head. “He might have been in the room, I don’t recall. The only time his name was mentioned was by Prince Callahan saying Emerson would make an excellent King’s Alchemist.” He paused, shifting his weight as a strain entered his tone. “Did you... expect him to protest?”

Did she?

“No… No, I was… just curious who they wanted to succeed the King’s Alchemist if… if not me,” Hellebore said, gaze dropping to her hands. She'd been right. Things between her and Emerson hadn't been serious.

When she said nothing more, King Taiyo moved to sit in the chair, pulling it up to butt against the table and putting himself directly in front of her. When she looked up, she saw that he was pulling out a jar of salve and a roll of bandages from his pocket. He gestured to her wrists and said, “May I?”

Now he wanted to ask for permission? If she’d been in control of herself, she would have refused, but whatever strange, docile spirit that was possessing her would not let her go.

She held them out. He took the first one and she hissed as he applied the salve to her wrists. “My apologies, Princess, for your treatment. My guards’ treatment of you only contributed to the situation, making you think we were enemies.”

Hellebore didn’t have the energy to expend to figure out if he meant it or if he was just trying to placate her. Did it matter?

“I hit you with a trowel and accidentally poisoned you. How about we just call it even?” Hellebore said, lips twitching up in a smile so she didn’t cry. There would be nothing worse than crying in front of an elf. No, actually, there would be nothing worse than crying in front of the elf who was insisting he was to be her husband after he’d dragged her to his castle kicking and screaming.

Taiyo looked up from her wrist and at her shoulder where a bruise peeked out past her collar. She wasn’t expecting his hand to leave her wrist and gently pull at the fabric to expose the bruise to his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as his warm, soft fingers traced the skin around the bruise, a darkness entering his eyes as he looked at the mark.

His voice was low, lips barely parting as he said, “They should not have treated their king's betrothed and their future queen as such. I commanded them to do you no harm even when you resisted.”

Right. He may have thought initially that she was willing, but then he'd thought she'd run away and pursued her anyway. He thought she was willing to kill him to escape marrying him, and yet his plans had not changed a stitch. He didn't care if she agreed or not. He just wanted her to for his conscience. This marriage was happening regardless.

Her breath stuttered and she pressed herself back into the sofa as far as she could. His hand hovered in the air, and his lidded eyes lifted from the bruise, focusing in on her face.

Whatever he saw in her expression had him pulling his hand back, brow furrowing and scowling as he returned to her wrists.

Hellebore’s heart was pounding in her chest and her stomach was turning. She was just as much a captive against her will now as she had believed she’d been since she arrived. She had no say in this. This elf would do whatever he wanted with her. Her cooperation was a preference, not a requirement.

But she still let King Taiyo bandage her wrists.

As he finished her first wrist, he whispered, “Princess, this is not what either of us want—”

“Stop it. You don’t have to put on an act.” She narrowed her eyes as they met his, steeling her voice. If she was furious, she couldn’t also be afraid. “Nothing has truly changed.”

He frowned, eyes darting between her face and his hands as he began bandaging her other wrist. “I—I can move the ceremony back—not much, but enough time for you to send a letter. Hopefully long enough for you to come to terms with this—”

She ripped her second wrist out of his hands and moved to secure the bandage herself as she glared at him. “But letting me go isn’t an option. It doesn’t matter if it’s tomorrow or two weeks or two months, the outcome is the same. My answer is a formality you can do without. You will force me to marry you.”

His hands curled into fists as his brown eyes burned as bright as the fiery orange ends of his hair spilling off his shoulders. There. Apparently, what it took to crack his facade was the truth. He had no patience for his own foul deeds. He spat, “Do you think I want to marry a creature such as yourself?”

“With that tone, obviously not!” Hellebore dug her nails into the sofa, hoping it hid the way they were shaking. “Clearly, you have some other motivation here. Something obviously powerful enough to overcome your revulsion to humans and your hatred of alchemists. How could I ever hope to be able to dissuade you if those two things alone couldn’t?”

“Will it help?” Taiyo’s voice was frigid, sucking all the warmth out of the room.

Hellebore focused on each beat of her heart, echoing in her ears, the organ doubling as a metronome for her to cling to as her throat tightened. “What?”

“Everything my people think yours are, you believe about us in return, don’t you?” Taiyo’s lip curled into a sneer. “You think we’re the monsters. You have to in order to be able to kidnap us to drain us of our blood just so you can find a new way to light a room because you aren’t born with any real ability, just the power to manipulate ours.”

“Neither of us were alive in those days. I went after a flower, not a person.” Hellebore took a deep breath. “Now, do you really want to talk to me about kidnapping?”

Taiyo’s jaw clenched as he leaned in. Every instinct in her screamed at her to move, but she stayed in her seat.

“Will it help if I act the part of the monster for you? Is that what you’re looking for? Do you want to be a martyr in your mind?” His breath brushed her cheek as his hand braced against the back of the sofa, trapping her between him and the arm she was clutching. “If you make me be the villain, I will be.”

Taiyo’s eyes dropped to her lips, skimming over her dress before coming back to her eyes. “But I’d rather not be. It’s up to you. Either way, I will be your husband.”

“That is…” Hellebore’s voice came out far breathier than she wanted it to, but she couldn’t seem to make it any stronger with him so close. “That is precisely my point. Whether it is a few weeks or tomorrow, this ends the same way. So it doesn't matter if I try to refuse; it means nothing to you. So, to save us the trouble of delaying so you can pretend like you care about changing my mind, let's instead pretend as though I have any choice in the matter and we'll say I accept.”

Taiyo pulled back, his hand dropping as he took her in. She hoped she wasn’t shaking. That was second only to crying.

Once he’d studied her enough for his liking, he rose from his seat, brushing off his clothes. “I'm sorry it's come to this.”

She shook her head and laughed. “No, you're not.”

He took a deep breath, and the sparks from before almost rekindled, but they were gone as he exhaled. “I would not do this unless it was necessary. I know you may not believe me, but you and I are in the same position. Neither of us have a choice in this marriage.”

Then he headed for the door.

She just stared at her bandaged wrists.

He was right; she didn’t believe him.

When the door creaked open, she looked up. He paused in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. He whispered, “Please, don't make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

He should have thought about that before deciding to marry an alchemist.

But she was tired and her shoulders still hurt, and she desperately wanted to run to her aunt and ask her how this could have possibly happened. She wanted to grab Callahan and scream at him for betraying her like this. While she was many things, she was not going to start a war because she wasn't as good an alchemist as she'd believed herself to be.

It was a miracle she hadn’t started one accidentally, and she would certainly not start one on purpose.

“I'll see you at the wedding, Your Majesty.”

Then he was gone, and Hellebore pressed her fist to her mouth as the tears welled up, refusing to let them fall. She would not cry.

If this was her fate, she would bear it well.

But even that, she failed to achieve.