She’s frozen to the spot, still staring at me.
“Evie.” Marcus’s voice grows sharper. “Now.”
“Promise me?” she begs.
“I swear it,” I vow, “on my life.”
She gives me a nod and then turns back to the sorcerer, standing taller—like the royalty she is. She walks toward him, head held high, spine straight.
“There’s a good girl,” Marcus coos, leaping from his horse. The look he gives her disturbs me to my core. It’s adoring, indulgent. Insane. He takes her hands, drinking her in. “You play a good game, my love.”
A game. Is that what he honestly thought this was?
She only nods.
The man leans closer. “I have something for you.” With bright eyes, he pulls a wooden box from his cloak’s inner pocket and then opens it, pushing it forward for her to inspect.
“A necklace?” she asks, confused.
“Do you like it?” He’s already pulling the silver chain from its nest. He shoves the box back into his pocket and then unclasps the chain, moving Eva’s hair aside as he fastens it around her neck.
It drips with jewels—rubies and diamonds—and settles at her neck like a crown.
“Now what do you say?” he teases, setting his hands on her arms.
I might as well be invisible—a rat or a beetle or some other inconsequential creature.
She glances at me, reminding me of my promise. I nod once. Every muscle in my body is taut, ready to fight.
But not yet. Not yet.
I must steal his voice first.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, saying the words he so desperately wants to hear. He beams at her praise, soaks it up like a blanket in the sun.
“I’ve made a home for you,” he says, still smiling. “Would you like to see it?”
Her expression says, “No,” but her mouth says, “Yes.”
“Very well. You will never say that I am one to deprive you of your desires.” Marcus then leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead before he whispers, “Evalyntanlia.”
“NO!” I bellow, running forward, but it’s too late.
She’s fading before my eyes, going into the nothing, her magic leaving her. Our eyes lock, hers wide with terror.
My Eva.
No.
No.
“Rune,” she says, holding out her translucent hand.
And then she’s gone.
My magic lashes out, a lightning bolt, fast and sure. Too quick, Marcus meets me. His is blue; mine is gold, and they spark and flame where they meet.
“Back down, elf!” he yells, and I can feel him pulling more, more, more.
I’m not strong enough, not with the promise draining me.
I pull back, shielding myself at the same time. He does the same, and we stand in this forested, winter glen, staring at each other. Now he remembers I exist.
“I will kill you for murdering her,” I swear.
Never in my life have I felt rage like this. It consumes me, makes my muscles tremble.
He raises a confused brow. “Murdering her? Evie? I would never harm a hair on her beautiful head. She is my life, my everything.”
I toss out a hand, shaking. “I was here!”
He studies me, a cocky smile building on his face. “I didn’t kill her, you elven fool. I sent her away. To her new home—hers and mine.”
Didn’t kill her.
“Explain,” I say through clenched teeth.
He begins to laugh. “If Evie’s dead, where’s her body? Listen, elf. Magic keeps you here; magic sends you away. Once it’s released, you’re spirited elsewhere, to a different realm. Your magic stays here, yes, but you’re not dead.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing, not ever. You don’t know what you’re speaking of. You’ve killed her—this woman you say you love.”
“I do know.” He turns toward his horse and swings himself into the saddle. “I’ve been to this realm, found the link myself. I can come and go as I please.”
“Say you are telling the truth, how do you know where she’ll end up? You could have sent her anywhere.”
“No.” Marcus shakes his dark head, mounting his horse. “That’s what the necklace is for. It sent her to its mate on the other side. Do not fear—Evie is safe.” He looks over his shoulder, giving me a grim smile. “And no longer any of your concern.”
Chapter 34
She’s perfect, my daughter. With bright blue eyes, pink cheeks, and soft skin, she is the most beautiful princess.
Conrad stands behind me, his hand on my shoulder as we gaze into the crib. “She’s pleasant when she’s sleeping.”
I elbow him, and he laughs. Then he sweeps me around and pulls me into his arms.
“If she’s fussy,” I tease, “it’s only because she has you as a father.”
He flashes me a grin, one I know so well, and then kisses me. I settle against him, perfectly content.
“And she’s beautiful because she has you as a mother,” he murmurs.
We linger like this for several moments, basking in the sensation of perfect happiness.
“I have agreed to make myself available to the people this afternoon.” Conrad reluctantly pulls away. “Will you join me?”
“No,” I answer as I watch our daughter sleep. She yawns, wrinkling her tightly-shut eyes. After several moments, her face softens once again. “I’ll stay here.”
Conrad kisses me once more, and then he leaves, promising to return eventually. I turn back toward the cradle, but then I sense movement behind me.
“Did you forget something—” I turn and then gasp.
A ghost stares back at me, almost exactly as I remember him. Rune stands by the open window, looking a little older and far more solemn. His eyes travel over my gown, and his expression softens. “You seem well, Greta.”
Speechless, I gape at the elf I loved. The young girl I once was wants to run into his arms, but the queen—the woman I am now—remembers her husband and stands frozen in place.
Rune’s gaze slowly moves to the cradle behind me. I step in front of the tiny princess, as much to protect him as her. Something’s off. He looks as if he’s in turmoil, as if simply being in the room with me pains him.
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask.
He turns his eyes on me—his familiar amber eyes. Then, so quietly I almost don’t hear him, he whispers, “One year ago, you made a promise. I’m here to collect.”
My world shifts, and I suddenly feel as if I’m going to faint. It must be bad, whatever it is. He said it would be.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He rubs his hands over his face, a movement so familiar it hurts. “Your daughter.”
I stare at him, stunned. My daughter? And then the terror overwhelms me. “No.”
He wouldn’t do this to me, not Rune. Never.
When he takes a step forward, going for either the baby or me, I pick up a vase—as if that will protect her.
“How could you do this to me?” I demand as I edge toward him. Hot tears build in my eyes, but I don’t bother to blink them away. “I love you.”
It hits me that I say love, not loved. And it’s true. The love has changed in his absence, but he is still my friend, my family.
Rune steps forward, easily wrangling the vase from my grasp. Then he sets his hands on my shoulders, holding me tightly. “I’m bound, Greta. I’m bound by the council; I’m bound by the magic of the promise—the promise you made.”
Realizing it would be all too simple for Rune to overpower me and take my daughter, I grab his tunic and beg, “Please…don’t do this.”
I’m about to fall on my knees and grovel when a familiar golden disk catches my attention.
I go still, watching the way it catches the light. He’s still wearing it after all this time.
“I’m a prisoner to the promise until it’s complete,” he whispers, realizing where my eyes have traveled. “There’s only one way to
free me and save the child.”
“Tell me.” I loosen my grip on his tunic. “I’ll do anything.”
“Say my name.”
Our eyes lock, and I take an abrupt step back. I wrap my arms around myself, chilled.
“It’s the only way,” he says, his voice quiet.
“But you’ll die.”
“We don’t know that.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said.” He reaches out as though he’s going to stroke my face but pulls his hand back. “But either way, you’ll be free.”
I turn toward my daughter, who’s still sleeping peacefully in her cradle, and pick her up, needing to know she’s safe. “I don’t know your true name, and even if I did…” I shake my head. Then, scowling at him, I demand, “How could you ask that of me?”
“I can give you three days to guess my name.” He crosses his arms. “We’ll start today.”
He’s serious. He stands there, watching me, asking me to murder him.
“You want names? Fine.” I glare at him. “Caspar?”
“No.”
“Melchior.”
“You’re not even trying.”
“Of course I’m not trying!” I say the words so loudly, the baby stirs.
“One more.”
I shrug, more than finished with this morbid game. “Balthazar.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” And without so much as a goodbye, Rune is once again gone.
After Conrad’s asleep, I rise, taking our daughter with me. I pace the library with her tucked safely in my arms. I pore over books of records, looking for names, though I know I will never be able to name Rune. I can’t.
But I can’t lose my child, either.
I slip back to bed before Conrad wakes and fall into a fitful slumber. When we rise, he frowns, knowing something is amiss.
I almost tell him several times, but I am terrified, so like a coward, I stay silent.
In the late morning hours, right after Conrad steps from the room, Rune returns.
My heart hurts when I look at my friend. He was gone for so long, and now he’s back, asking this of me.
“Shortribs?” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “That is not my name.”
“Sheepshanks?”
Fire flashes in his eyes, and he steps forward. “Would you take this seriously, Greta?”
“There must be another way.”
Crossing his arms, he says, “There is no other way.”
“Laceleg?”
Rune sighs, looking as if the world is on his shoulders. “You have to guess correctly tomorrow. Do whatever you must—find my name.” He pauses for a moment, thinking, and then he turns to me, trying to tell me something with his eyes. Something he can’t say out loud. “You know where to look.”
Chapter 35
Something is wrong, but Greta won’t tell me what it is. For the last day, she’s done nothing but pace and worry, clinging to our daughter as though the child is going to break.
I watch her, unsure of how to help. This isn’t like the depression she suffered when we were first married. This is different, stronger.
She slipped from our bed last night, and I followed her, curious to see what she was up to. I didn’t begin to worry until she spent the entire night in the library, searching. Searching for what?
I kiss her goodbye, leaving her to her thoughts, telling her to rest. I walk halfway down the hall and realize I’ve forgotten my dagger on the table by the bed. I turn back, rolling my shoulders, trying to relieve the tension that’s settled in them.
Perhaps this is normal. The baby doesn’t sleep much—she’s still young and up at all hours. Of course Greta is tired. I would be tired too—if I got up to help. Which I don’t.
Now that I think of it, maybe that’s the problem.
I’ll be better—a better father, a better husband. I’ll ease this new burden and run a kingdom at the same time.
It will be fine.
We’ll be fine.
I just barely open the door when I hear voices. I freeze, listening, my pulse quickening as a sick feeling takes up residence in my gut.
It’s her elf, her Rune.
He’s come back.
I rub my chest, betrayal slicing like a knife. My fingers tremble on the door—feeling anger, fear, surprise. But I resist the urge to barge in like a storm, listening instead.
“You have to guess correctly tomorrow,” the elf says, his tone sharp. “Do whatever you must—find my name.”
His name?
“You know where to look.”
And then he’s gone, and Greta gasps out a sob.
I stand here, unsure of what I just heard. The meeting couldn’t have sounded less like a romantic interlude. But what was it?
I step away from the door. Should I go in? Comfort her? Demand to know what’s going on? Or should I respect her silence, leave her to it?
I end up walking away from the door, turning back toward the hall. I’ll leave her be for now, but should she leave our bed again tonight, I’ll follow her.
Chapter 36
The creek bubbles in the distance, and I make my way toward it, walking the familiar trail. The once-traveled path is now high with snow. But even in the dark, I find my way.
It’s cold in the night, and the air is icy. It coats my lungs, nips at my nose and fingers.
I don’t even know what I’m doing out here, but it feels right. Conrad and the baby are fast asleep, tucked safely in the castle. My husband has no idea I’m gone, and as long as he doesn’t wake in the middle of the night, he’ll never know.
The moon glistens off the creek, and I sigh when I reach the bank. Rune’s not here. I’m not sure why I thought he would be.
An owl screeches from his perch not far away, and I jump. It’s eerie in the Dark Forest at night, and I feel as if there are a thousand eyes on me. Wolves live in the next kingdom over. The packs don’t usually travel this far north, but that doesn’t mean they never do. And what about the trolls? They strangely disappeared last year, right after I asked the stag for two wishes. Though he said I could have only one, I’ve long wondered if he didn’t give me both.
But even without the trolls lurking, this errand is foolish.
I’m just turning to leave when a scrap of beige catches my attention. It’s a piece of parchment, hanging from the tree Rune carved our names into when we were young, secured by a bit of leather with a small, familiar medallion hanging from it.
With a shaking hand, I pull it from the branch. Only one word graces the page:
Rumpelstiltskin.
I turn, parchment in my hand, and stifle a scream.
“Conrad, for the love of all that is good,” I snarl, holding a hand over my racing heart. “You scared me half to death.”
My husband watches me, tall and strong. Suddenly, the night doesn’t seem so threatening.
“You followed me,” I say, letting out a shaky breath.
“I did.” His voice is dark in the night, tantalizing.
It’s the worst time, but a shiver runs through me. Sometimes, I still have trouble believing he is mine.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing slipping from our bed like a thief?” He doesn’t sound angry, just concerned. Well, to be honest, he’s probably a little irked.
But mostly worried.
“I’d rather not.” But I already know I’m fighting a losing battle.
He sets his hands on my shoulders and leans down, meeting my eyes. “And I’d rather you did.”
Unable to help myself, I tell him everything. About the gold and the promise and Rune’s return.
I expect him to storm back to the castle, rally the troops, send a battalion marching for the nearby elven kingdom. It would be disastrous.
Conrad takes me by surprise by staying still. “You have to do it,” he says once I’m finished. “He’s right. You don’t have a choice.”
“I will hate myself forever,
” I whisper.
“And you won’t hate yourself if our daughter is stolen away from us?”
I close my eyes. “Why is it that every time I find myself perfectly happy, that joy is stolen from me?”
And then his arms are around me, pulling me tight. I cling to him, drawing strength from his closeness. When I am so tired and frozen I can barely stand, he takes my hand, tucks me close to his side, and leads me back to the castle.
I sit next to the cradle, waiting for Rune. The smell of wood smoke filters in through the open window, coming from cottages where villagers burn fires in their hearths on this cold winter day. It should be a comforting smell. It always has been in the past.
My head throbs, and my stomach churns. I can’t do this. I wish Conrad were here, wish I hadn’t been brave and told him I would take care of it myself. He’s just outside the door, waiting. He’d come if I called him. He’d be at my side in an instant.
But I have to do this myself.
“Greta,” Rune says softly as he sets his hand on my shoulder.
I’m so deep in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him approach. Not that I ever have in the past.
“Please,” I say again, so tired. “Don’t make me do this.”
He gently pulls me to my feet. “You have no choice, Your Majesty.” He smiles when he says my title as if he’s actually happy I’ve found myself here. “I could never forgive myself for taking her.”
I lower my gaze and whisper, “I found your note.”
“Then say it.”
“I’m not ready.”
Rune clasps my hands and gazes down at the princess. “Do you love him, this king of yours?”
Unbidden, tears sting my eyes. I nod. “Desperately. I’m so sorry.”
Rune looks back. “And he’s good to you?”
“Yes.” I wipe my eyes with the tips of my fingers, but it’s no use.
He meets my gaze, his face solemn. “I know it’s hard, and I know it’s too much to ask of you. But I need you to do this—as much for me as for you.”
As he says it, I realize he’s telling me something. And though I don’t understand, a part of me quiets at his certainty.
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