by S. T. Bende
“I’m . . . sorry.”
The queen brushed off my sympathy with a flick of her wrist. “When my daughter informed me that she intended to marry a dark elf, I could only fathom the horrors he could inflict on Alfheim from its throne. I forbade the union but Lily did as she had always done; she chose her heart over her duty. The barrier was constructed so that when Svartalfheim attacked, we would be ready. And when the day came, though we weren’t without our casualties, the key members of our government were saved.”
“But two decades had passed since the last dark elf attack,” Signy interjected. “When you authorized construction on the barrier, you had no reason to believe the peace would break. The initial attack—the one that happened shortly after the barrier’s completion—was nothing more than a hit on Lily, Aura, and Kegoth. When Aura survived, the siege expanded to include all of Alfheim’s Keys, and eventually to the entire realm. But that wasn’t until after Kegoth transported Lily and Aura to the Alfheim border, and after Aura and I escaped to Midgard. Had the barrier not denied them entry, your daughter and granddaughter would have had time to take refuge in the realm. Lily would still be alive. And Aura . . .” Signy’s eyes misted over.
Holy skit.
Queen Constance paled. “My daughter took up with a dark elf from a powerful family. It was only a matter of time before his realm came after mine. I authorized construction on the barrier so that when Svartalfheim struck, Alfheim would be protected. It was only ever meant to be a failsafe—if Svartalfheim never attacked, I never would have had to authorize the barrier’s activation. But when our sentries reported assassins approaching from Svartalfheim, I had no choice. I had to protect my realm. I had no idea that activating the barrier would cost me . . .” The queen raised her chin. “I will never apologize for saving Alfheim. Duty to the realm must always take precedence over duty to self.”
Ice water doused my veins as I blinked at the queen. “But you knew.”
“I knew what?”
“You knew my mother married a dark elf. You knew she’d try to protect him; that if they were ever in danger, she’d bring him to Alfheim. You knew the barrier would never let them both in, and you had to know my mom would never toss someone aside to save herself. You knew the barrier would block his entry . . . that it could get them both killed.”
The queen snapped. “Do you think I would subject my citizens to all the horrors a dark elf would have the power to inflict as their king?”
My chest clenched, breathing nearly impossible. “You killed them.”
Narrik’s growl turned feral. “Need I remind you, child, I can make life exceedingly miserable for those you care about.”
Narrik’s threat bounced off the waterfall of rage that coursed through me. My focus held steady on the queen. “You created your stupid barrier during a time of peace. This wasn’t about preventing an attack. It was meant to keep my father out.”
“It was meant to do both. That barrier is the only thing that kept—”
“Your barrier is responsible for my mother’s death.” My hands trembled. “And you are responsible for my father’s—if you’d allowed him and mom to come to Alfheim, his family never could have killed him. You all but signed both of my parents’ death warrants when you built that blockade. You’re the reason I grew up without them. You.”
The queen’s stoic silence was deafening.
“If you live long enough to become queen, then you will understand,” Constance finally said.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll never understand. I would do anything—anything—for those I love.”
“And I have sacrificed everything for the security of my people.” Constance lifted her chin again. “There is no greater love than that.”
My grandmother and I stared at each other for a long time. I knew in that moment she’d never lift the barrier; that the only way to stop the cloak of darkness blanketing Alfheim was to take the throne myself. I didn’t know when, and I most certainly didn’t know how, but I knew in that moment I wanted the crown. The Light Realm would collapse under the rule of a woman who had chosen to sacrifice her family rather than open her heart to the possibility of change.
In many ways, it already had.
My hands balled into fists. “I’m done here.”
Queen Constance’s eyes narrowed to slits, her nostrils practically blazing smoke. But her anger had nothing on mine. I turned on one heel and stalked toward the exit, deliberately bumping Narrik’s chest with my elbow on my way out. As I opened the heavy wood door and stormed past the two guards outside, Signy yelled at the queen. Constance shouted back, her shrill voice catching the attention of several students who hurried closer to eavesdrop. I was so focused on shouldering through the bottleneck in the hallway, I didn’t realize Narrik had slipped out after me until his fierce grip tightened around my shoulder.
“We aren’t finished,” he growled.
I wrenched out of his grasp. “Yes. We. Are.”
“You have no idea how uncomfortable I can make your life. Or the lives of those you love.”
“You already have.” Tears pricking at my lids, I stormed through the door and into a throng of oblivious students. I kept my head lowered until I reached the glass doors at the end of the hall and pushed through them to enter the quad. Outside, students were clustered together. A few stared as I stumbled toward the lawn. My fingers shook as my anxiety grew, and I hurried across the grass before the gawkers could notice. I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone—and I was on the brink of a full out breakdown.
My to-do list consisted of tracking down an untraceable crystal, the absence of which threatened the very existence of my world; avoiding the uncle who wanted me dead; dethroning the grandmother whose bigotry killed my parents; and figuring out how to rule a realm.
High school was a living nightmare.
Before words could fail me, I leaned over my communicator and typed a message to Signy.
I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I failed.
Signy’s reply came through seconds later.
Meet me at my suite and we can talk this through.
Gods, I wished.
I need to clear my head. I’ll come by later.
Be safe, Aura.
Always looking out for me. I promise.
My hands shook as I tapped the communicator. Once it went dark, I moved to the back of the quad. I walked quickly as the trembling moved up my hands to my arms. By the time I pulled back the ivy and raced through the hidden door in the quad’s stone wall, the butterflies in my stomach and back vibrated at full force. I barreled across the patch of dirt bordering the wall and the forest, breaking into an all-out sprint when I reached the trees. My feet pounded the dusty earth as I darted between trunks, my shoulders bumping against their rough red bark. Exposed roots nearly took me down, and I silently cursed my footwear. High heels had been mandated for the queenly address, and I wasn’t used to walking—much less running—in the death traps. But I pressed forward, running until the familiar red-barked trees gave way to a smattering of white ones, and the leaves beneath my feet were no longer long green and purple needles, but thick yellowing ovals. As I darted through another patch of unfamiliar terrain, a low fern proved my undoing. My toe caught on one of its branches, and I threw my arms out in front of me. My hands took the brunt of my fall as I skidded across the dirt, face first. Small rocks jammed into my palms, the pain of their sharp edges against my skin peaking before I rolled onto my arm. The rip of shredding fabric was followed by a fresh wave of pain along my tricep as another root tore my blazer. I tumbled for what seemed like forever before my shoulder collided with the trunk of a mid-sized tree. It stopped my free-slide, but sent another wave of agony through my body. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes, letting the pain wash over me. Tears dampened my cheeks, though my frustration far outweighed my physical discomfort.
This was a battle I might not win. My grandmother had created a barrier to keep my father from ever se
tting foot in Alfheim. In doing so, she’d sentenced both of my parents to death. Her fear and intolerance had destroyed so much, yet she had the backing of the strongest political party in the realm. I was a sixteen-year-old high school girl with no party and no power. How was I supposed to take her crown? And if I failed, how would life on Alfheim ever improve for those whose gifts she deemed less worthy, or whose lifestyles she didn’t understand, or whose heritage was less than “pure”? How was I going to fix the mess my grandmother had gotten us into?
And what would happen to our world if I didn’t?
When the pain dropped to manageable levels, I sat up and ran a damage scan. My left sleeve was torn and caked in blood, but the wound appeared to be healing. Since blood still seeped from the cut on my face, I ripped off the rest of my sleeve and held it to my cheek. My hands were a hot mess, and my ribs felt bruised at best, so I waited another half minute before picking the rocks out of my palms and climbing unsteadily to my feet. When my ankles wobbled, I yanked off the academy-issued heels that caused this whole debacle and flung them into the forest as hard as I could.
The ensuing yelp of pain was frustratingly familiar. What is he doing in the forest?
I stormed in the direction I’d thrown my shoes and found my training partner whispering hurriedly into his wrist. The blue light of his communicator flickered to darkness before Viggo straightened up. As he pulled his shoulders back and looked down at me, his expression was a mask of practiced calm. But I saw the muscle over his left jaw flex, as if he was grinding his teeth. Viggo was angry . . . or nervous.
Gotcha.
“What are you doing out here?” I crossed my arms.
“I’d ask you the same thing, but I already know the answer.” Viggo bent down and picked up a high-heeled shoe. “Lose something?”
I ignored the offered footwear. “I know you were talking to someone. Again. Who is it? Is it someone on Svartalfheim? Because so help me, if it’s—”
“So what if it is?” Viggo squared his thick shoulders. Since he wore the regulation black tank top and pants issued by the Verge program, he must have pulled a quick-change after the queen’s address. He’d probably planned to follow his illicit holo-meeting with a Saturday morning workout. Teacher’s pet.
“You know you’re not allowed to communicate with other realms until the crystal is located,” I said. “The queen mandated—”
“The queen.” Viggo snorted. “My parents died protecting her barrier. And my Protektor died stopping Svartalfheim from overriding it.”
“I’m sorry, Viggo, but–”
“Of course you think other-worlders are evil. You here to push your grandmother’s propaganda on me, Princess?” The words held such venom, I recoiled.
“Is that what you honestly believe?”
“Since you haven’t publicly challenged her, I have no reason to think otherwise.” Viggo glowered.
“You think because I haven’t challenged her, I agree with her?”
“That’s generally how things work. My parents led the Opprør to resist the queen’s fear-based rule and restore our realm to what it was meant to be. All those years, they held out hope another heir was out there somewhere; that that heir would lead us back to peace.” Viggo rolled his eyes. “Can you imagine how they’d feel if they’d lived to see what a disappointment you turned out to be?”
“Sorry to let you down.” I took a bare-footed step to the side. Viggo mirrored my movement. He still held my shoe in one hand, and any other time I would have laughed at the image of my tougher-than-thou training partner holding a heel. But I was too angry to see the humor in anything. “But believe me, nothing could possibly match the disappointment of finding out your grandmother is the reason your parents are dead.”
“What are you talking about?” Viggo took another step. I did the same.
“My dad was a . . . an off-worlder,” I fumbled. “So, not that you bothered to actually ask me, but I’m against the barrier, too. I met with the queen to ask her to take it down, thank you very much.”
Viggo’s eyes widened, but he didn’t apologize. “That barrier has done more harm than good. Someone found a way around it anyway, with the Alfheim Tree.”
“Was it Svartalfheim who stole the crystal?” We continued our tight circle. “Are you the one who helped them take it?”
“Because I was raised there, I’m automatically evil? You sound like your grandmother.”
“Shut up,” I spat. “And maybe you are evil. You showed up right when the crystal went missing—”
“So did you,” Viggo interjected.
I shot another eyeball dagger and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And you regularly sneak into the woods and have secret meetings with a hologram. What’s that about?”
Viggo raised an eyebrow as he took a step. “What about you? I saw you run off into the woods with a Bridger. Care to explain what you were doing with her?”
“I was talking to my dead dad! And figuring out what the Helheim’s going on around here!” I threw my hands up in frustration. “Answer my question, Viggo. Who do you talk to on that device?” If it was my uncle I would take Viggo down right here in the forest, shoes or no shoes. Maybe I could use the shoe to bludgeon him . . .
“It’s none of your business who I talk to. Stay out of my life.” Viggo moved forward, breaking our circle. Now he stood directly in front of me, his six-plus-feet towering over me.
“Fine by me. Just get out of my way.” I fisted my hands and pushed against his chest, but he didn’t move. I shot him a glare that should have burned a hole clear through his thick head, but as he glowered, the green of his eyes lightened from a deep pine to a soft emerald. The muscle clenching across his jaw softened, and one corner of his mouth turned up enough to make his dimple pop.
What is wrong with him? Oh crêpes, what is wrong with me? The familiar flutters at my back sharpened in a stabbing pain, and before I registered what was happening, my blazer pulled taught against my arms. Agony tore through my back from neck to waist. My breath stalled while stabbing pain pierced either side of my spine. Either my shoulder blades were clawing their way out of my body, or I was being ravaged by an invisible animal. Oh, gods! A scream ripped from my throat. The sickening sound of tearing flesh was followed by a gurgle as thick, warm liquid oozed slowly down my back. My nostrils were immediately assaulted by an odor that was equal parts metallic tang and cloying fear. I writhed in agony, my body fighting against the unnatural loss of what seemed to be infinite amounts of blood. My vision blurred as the pain overwhelmed me, the forest shifting from vibrant green to faded black. I blinked back tears and pushed myself to my feet, stumbling with the movement.
“Don’t move,” Viggo ordered. “You’ll make it worse.”
“What’s on my back? Get it off of me!” I squeezed my eyes shut as a fresh wave overtook me, wrapping my arms around my torso, and trying not to writhe in agony. Even the tiniest movement increased my pain by a million. How can anything hurt this much? Gods, what is happening?
As quickly as it had come, the mind-numbing pain ebbed to extreme-discomfort levels. I waited another half minute before uncurling my spine. My body still throbbed, but since the worst of the horror seemed to have ended, I tentatively opened one eye to assess the damage. Yikes. The scraps of my jacket and blouse lay in bloody tatters by my feet. Thank Frigga I’d worn a racerback tank top under my uniform, instead of the thick strapped tank I usually wore—I would have been topless in front of my training partner. But what had drawn all of that blood? And what had made it stop?
And, most importantly, what were the giant, shimmering wings hovering over my shoulder? Had I just been mauled by the world’s most vicious butterfly?
I whipped my head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever creature was attached to the wings, but it ducked out of view. I shifted to my left, but it evaded me again. Too sore to continue, I reached behind me and seized a wing in one hand. When I tried to drag the offending
creature in front of me, I felt a painful pull on my back.
Oh, crêpes. I pulled again, harder this time, and a fresh surge of gooey liquid trickled down my spine.
Crêpes, crêpes, crêpes.
I tugged again. And again. And again. With each pull, my back throbbed anew. Which meant . . .
I stared up into the worried green eyes of the boy kneeling in front of me and asked a single question. “Do I have wings?”
“Yes.”
Gulp.
“So, I’m not a light elf after all. I’m an älva. A . . . a . . .”
“You’re a faerie, Aura.” Viggo’s gentle tone was all it took to push me right over the edge. I plonked down on the soft dirt of the forest, curled into a ball, and cried.
Chapter 17
“HEY. IT’S GOING TO be okay.” Viggo sat beside me, tossing my shoe onto the ground.
“No, it’s not! I am a princess and a faerie—I am literally a faerie princess. A winged freak who will forever be associated with the tyrant who’s destroying our realm. They’re even the same color as hers!”
“Maybe.” Viggo tore a less-bloodied piece of fabric from what was left of my blouse and pressed it lightly against my back. “But you’re also a winged freak whose bleeding’s slowing down. Either this wasn’t your first time, or you got really lucky.”
“This was lucky?” I croaked. “Wait, why aren’t you freaking out? I have . . .” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I have wings.” Good gods, I have wings.
“I see you have wings.” Viggo’s dimple popped again. “Wings don’t scare me.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“But what?” Viggo gave my shoulder a light squeeze, and a warm sensation made its way down to my chest. For reasons I really didn’t want to think about, it was hard to focus with Viggo touching me.
I ignored the heat building around my heart. No way did I want Viggo to think he had any kind of effect on me. Because he didn’t. Right? Wrong.
Shut up, brain.
“Hardly anybody around here has wings,” I muttered. Besides the queen, I’d only seen that one girl on my first day.