The Dark Pretender

by Nikki Jefford

  Father sighed in exasperation. “I don’t need to remember. I feel it every second of every day.”

  “Then why don’t you want me to feel the same thing?”

  “Because he’s not good enough for you!” Dad bellowed.

  “Yes, he is. You just don’t like faeries!” I yelled back.

  “Interesting,” King Liri drawled.

  “That’s not it at all, and you know it,” Dad insisted. “I can never forgive Alok for what he did to our family: to you, your mother, the twins, Lark, Ryo, and Folas. He put us all at risk for his own gain. If Liri is content to release a traitor to his kingdom and crown, that is his call. But Alok Elmray will never be welcome in my home.”

  The moment he finished, I burst into tears. It felt like the world was ending.

  Alok pulled me against his shoulder, stroking my back, murmuring, “It’s okay, Fraya. Your father has every right to his feelings. It’s because he loves you and your mom so much. It’s okay. It will all be okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay,” I sobbed into Alok’s jacket. “I love you, but my family would sooner see me miserable than happily married to you.”

  “Fraya, that’s not true,” Mom said behind me.

  “Yes, it is,” I cried.

  I couldn’t look at her or my father. Did this mean they wouldn’t want to see their grandchild? Or would Dad be fine with the child so long as it wasn’t Alok’s? How would he react if Alok and I had a child? Would he ban our son or daughter from his home, as well? Fresh tears streaked my cheeks.

  Lulu began crying alongside me. I pulled my head from Alok’s chest and blinked rapidly. I wasn’t usually prone to waterworks, but my dad had gutted me with his cold declaration.

  “Blame me,” Lulu said. “I raised Alok. I am responsible for him. I do know he’s sorry, though. He’s a good boy.”

  “Mother, none of this is your fault,” Alok said. “It’s all on me.”

  “This is all getting too emotional,” King Liri announced. “I’ve made my decision. I will pardon Alok so long as he agrees to my one condition. After that, it’s up to Aerith and her mate as to whether they will tolerate his company.” King Liri’s eyes flashed silver in the torchlight. “Once you are portaled to Pinemist, do you agree never to return to the kingdom of Dahlquist, Alok?”

  Alok looked at his mother and me before turning his attention to King Liri. “Yes,” he said. “I agree never to step foot in Dahlquist as long as I live.”

  Lulu gave a small sob.

  King Liri flicked a gaze my way. “Daughter of Aerith, do you still want him? An impoverished exile?”

  I squared my shoulders and blinked away the last of my tears. “Yes, I want him. And my name is Fraya.”

  A smile spread slowly, lifting slightly higher on one side of King Liri’s face. I felt like he was looking at me for the first time. He gave a slight shake of his head, as if my decision made no sense to him. “Very well, daughter of Aerith. Fraya. I do hope my cousin’s child can keep you happy with his company, because he has few prospects beyond that.”

  I wanted to rage at the king for being such a dick. This felt like the inquisition, and everyone, other than Lulu and I, was ready to throw Alok in front of the firing squad. They could hold on to their hatred and let it rot. Alok had my heart and my love, and I’d spend the rest of my life making sure he never forgot that.

  EPILOGUE

  Alok

  Water dripped from rooftops and trees following Pinemist’s latest downpour. It was the wet season, and rain had come down in buckets on the trek into town. Despite my umbrella, my socks were soaked in my boots, and my trousers were sodden up to my knees. Through it all, little Titus slept soundly in his sling against my chest. Every pothole was filled with rainwater, and Amelia made sure to jump in each one on the way home. She squealed every time, her blonde pigtails flying up like wings taking flight. Hopefully, more glitter would fall off her with every leap.

  I’d been dusted with sparkles after chasing Amelia through a portal into Chantasia, a kingdom celebrating their annual Glitter Festival.

  Whenever anyone wanted to travel to the faerie realm, I was called in to open a portal. I took what work I could get from Gram Bilkins, who had taken over his grandfather’s travel shop after the poor old elf died in an ogre attack—one my father had apparently helped plan during his short-lived reign as king of Ravensburg. (That bit I made sure to keep quiet.)

  There weren’t a whole lot of elves hankering for a trip to Faerie. I leaped at every chance to get paid for my portal-opening abilities, never lingering long in my old realm. In and out—just long enough to transport elves making the trip. Fortunately, there were some adventurous citizens who liked to check out the Fae festivals. Unfortunately, Amelia had run in behind this afternoon’s client, entering the portal before I could catch her. I’d run in after her, which is how we found ourselves on the crowded streets of Chantasia during a parade. A troop of females in iridescent pants and shimmery halter tops had thrown purple and teal glitter from shiny urns by the handful at everyone they passed. I’d turned just in time to spare Titus the shimmer dusting. Somehow, he’d slept soundly through it all, including the return portal back to Pinemist with both kids in tow.

  I was eager to reach home, get the remaining glitter off—if such a thing was possible—and change into dry clothes before starting on supper. I made a lot of hearty soups this time of year.

  As we turned onto Ferntree Lane, the clouds split apart and the sun spilled through like yolk. I lifted my face to the sky briefly, eyes closed.

  “Hey there, Alok,” said a kindly older female voice. Mrs. Naedove stood resting against her cane beneath the narrow awning of her cottage. She was a petite elder who wore her silver hair in a long braid. Her husband had passed away two years ago. Her daughter had come and stayed with her for a couple months, but eventually she returned to Bluespark, where all Mrs. Naedove’s children and grandchildren resided.

  “Hello, Mrs. Naedove. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m right as rain, but my gutter’s busted.” She poked the loose gutter with the end of her cane. It lifted and slumped away from her roof.

  “I’ll come by and fix it tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll have a pot of tea and crumb cake waiting for you, dear fellow, along with juice for your two young’uns.”

  “I’ll bring my appetite.” And a ladder.

  Being a stay-at-home dad, I’d become the resident handyman. Not everyone could afford to pay me in coin. Some offered baked goods or jams or eggs from their henhouses. I set no price, only accepting what they could spare. Truth be told, I enjoyed the social aspect of getting to know our neighbors and would have gladly helped for free. But we had four mouths to feed, clothe, and shelter—sometimes five with my sister.

  She and Blythe would get into huge fights, and Reyna would storm out of Bocote Estate in Briarwood (that or be kicked out). Then they would make up and become best friends again. The fights lasted anywhere from a couple days to a few weeks. The longest had been three months. Just when Fraya and I were beginning to dread Reyna would live with us forever, Blythe had come riding up in a carriage all aflutter with excitement over the balls and parties her family had received invitations to, and how Reyna “must” accompany them. Reyna was always glad to go back with Blythe to Briarwood. She’d never had to cook a day in her life. Even in all those years of exile at Hailshadow Manor, there had been footmen to serve us. I think watching me cook and clean was a little too much reality for her.

  Fraya worked part time at the local weapons shop, though her real income came from private archery lessons. As a former champion of the realm, she was in hot demand by tournament hopefuls.

  Bored with the pleasantries I exchanged with Mrs. Naedove, little Amelia ran ahead down the lane. I hurried after her as she sprinted for home.

  “Don’t go inside,” I hollered behind her. “Not until all the glitter is off.”

  Amelia spread her arms to her side
s as she ran, yelling, “I’m a pixie.”

  She bounded up the stone path leading to our little orange cottage with its red frame and yellow and white snapdragons growing on either side of the front door. There was a dried floral wreath hanging from the door, a gift from a neighbor across the way for mending the section of her fence that was blown over during a storm.

  Reed and Ronin were lounging on the hanging swing bench their mother had gifted Fraya and me for our wedding. Fraya’s family tolerated me for her sake and the kids’. Some of them, like Reed and Ronin, accepted me more warmly than others. Despite promising otherwise, Jhaeros had allowed me into his home. I got the feeling it was so he could keep an eye on me.

  Uncle Ryo’s forgiveness had been the most surprising of all. He said that he hadn’t forgotten what it was like growing up with ruthless plotters and that if it hadn’t been for the love of a good elf, he might not have turned out the way he had. Lyklor echoed his sentiment. Having been switched at birth with Ryo, the blond-haired king had been raised alongside my father and Malon.

  “Trust me, you’re better off with them dead,” Lyklor had said.

  I doubted Lark and I would ever become friends, but Reed and Ronin had no interest in the past or really anything remotely serious.

  Reed jumped off the bench, leaving his twin brother swinging in a lopsided manner. Ronin steadied the bench, then got up.

  “Stop her,” I yelled, as Amelia dashed for the front door.

  Reed grabbed Amelia’s hand and swung her around. She erupted into shrieks of delight.

  “You look extra shiny today,” Ronin said.

  “It looks like a swarm of pixies farted all over them,” Reed threw in.

  Amelia giggled.

  “Unplanned visit to Chantasia,” I said, brushing at my sleeves. Now that my clothes were beginning to dry, the shimmer didn’t stick as much.

  “The Glitter Festival?” Ronin asked, his dark eyebrows lifting into his shaggy black bangs. “Remember the last time we attended one of those?”

  Reed continued swinging Amelia around as he snorted. “I had glitter on me for weeks.” His smile widened when I groaned. “It worked its way past my clothing, too. You wouldn’t believe some of the places I found glitter stuck to my body.”

  “I don’t want to know,” I said. I tugged at my thick raven locks, which were short again. I’d cut them after discovering Amelia enjoyed pulling hair when she was two. My blue highlights were back, thanks to my mother, who visited us at our cottage regularly, with the help of Folas opening a portal from the castle to Pinemist for her. At four years of age, Amelia wasn’t as prone to pull hair, but I kept it short in case Titus had any inklings to tug. “Maybe if we strip her down and hose her off.”

  “Or we could try shaking her like salt.” Reed flipped Amelia over his arm as though she weighed no more than a rag doll and held her upside down by her ankles.

  “I’m a bat!” she shrieked.

  I unfastened Titus and handed him to Ronin. “Here, take him a moment,” I said. I pulled off my jacket and tossed it on the bench swing. Bending over, I rubbed my hands through my hair roughly and watched as more glitter floated to the lawn. When nothing more came out, I proceeded to swipe my arms down my tunic and pants.

  Titus, now awake, watched me with big brown eyes. When I flashed him a smile, he grinned and clapped his hands.

  “What is your father up to now?” Ronin asked, bouncing him gently in his arms. Titus had the sweetest laugh. Somehow, he had come out with flaming red hair.

  “Dude, are you sure you’re the father?” Reed had teased.

  To which I’d replied, “Positive, dude.”

  Reed was also fond of saying, “You’re our cousin, and Fraya’s our cousin. But you and Fraya aren’t cousins. Weird.”

  Despite the oddity of it, I appreciated the family support. They’d all warmed up to me more after learning about Amelia’s true parentage and how I’d adopted her as my own. Fraya and I worked hard to get by, but her family made it a lot easier. It wasn’t unusual for me to find a jar of flour that had been running low suddenly full a few days later, or our worn shoes replaced with new pairs overnight as if they’d magically mended themselves. Our lanterns never seemed to run out of oil, nor did our pantry empty of food.

  I knew who we had to thank for these kindnesses. Aerith wasn’t particularly stealthy when she came over and pretended to casually look around. But her generosity knew no limits. Sometimes my pride smarted, but then our little family would gather around the dinner table and an overwhelming sense of joy would come bursting through my chest. Becoming a king would have never made me as happy as I felt as a father and Fraya’s mate.

  Fraya

  “Relax your grip,” I instructed my student, a fourteen-year-old female named Erani.

  The brunette elf always wore her shoulder-length hair in a loose braid and listened to every word I spoke with eager attentiveness. She’d gotten a late start in archery, and her mother was willing to pay for private lessons. Erani had lost her father the previous year and struggled with leaving her room, except to attend school and supper, until discovering her love for archery. I wanted all my students to be the best they could be, but I was especially invested in Erani’s success.

  We spent a lot of time in the meadow, but with the rain hammering down, I suggested we take her practice into Brightwhisk Forest, where I set up targets around the trees.

  Erani loosened her grip on her longbow.

  “Draw. Aim. Release.”

  Erani’s arrow hit the outer rim of the first bull’s-eye.

  “Very good,” I said.

  She smiled briefly before walking over to the next target.

  I had her go through the circuit several times. The rain eased, then stopped altogether. The clouds brightened as sunlight nudged at their puffy edges.

  “I think you should enter the next local competition,” I said as Erani and I walked back to the meadow.

  She grimaced. “I don’t know if I want to compete. I just like shooting arrows.”

  “It’s a good way to challenge yourself—and have fun,” I added.

  Competing had boosted my confidence as a teenager. And I’d made lots of good friends and memories along the way.

  I made a goal to talk Erani into giving it a try. I felt confident it would do her a world of good.

  During lessons, my full focus was on my students. Once we finished for the day, I switched gears—eager to get home to my mate and kids. After bidding Erani and her mother goodbye, I alternated between speed-walking and jogging to Ferntree Lane.

  As soon as I entered our cottage, my mouth watered at the smell of stew and fresh-baked bread.

  Amelia was already in her pajamas, jumping up and down on the couch while Reed and Ronin egged her on.

  “Is that as high as you can go?” Reed asked, raising one brow.

  “I can jump higher,” Amelia announced.

  “High enough to touch the ceiling?” Ronin challenged.

  Titus crawled into view from the other side of the couch. He stopped when he saw my feet, looked up, and gave me a large toothless grin.

  “Hey there, dumpling,” I said, scooping him up. “What are you two doing here?” I asked my cousins.

  Reed smirked. “Mom said we were driving her crazy.”

  “So you decided to come over and drive me crazy instead?” I teased.

  “Hey, we’re helping,” Ronin said.

  “I can see that,” I answered sarcastically, nodding at Alok slicing bread and cheese on a wood board in between stirring the soup pot with a long wooden serving spoon.

  “Alok didn’t want us in the kitchen,” Ronin said.

  “I want hot food, not cold,” Alok said as he kept on preparing dinner.

  Ever since the twins had come into their icy elemental magic, they were constantly freezing things solid.

  “Good call,” I said, sidling up beside my mate. He turned to kiss me on the lips, then ruffled the tuft
of red hair on Titus’s head. “Am I setting the table for six?”

  “Six, not seven?” Ronin returned eagerly.

  “Zelie’s not coming over, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said.

  “Ah, shucks. She hasn’t been over in a while,” Ronin said.

  “Yeah, you should invite her for dinner,” said Reed.

  “If we invite Zelie, we have to invite her boyfriend,” I reminded them.

  Reed groaned. “The dude is a dullard.”

  “An age-appropriate dullard,” Alok threw in.

  “Hey!” I gave my mate a playful smack on the shoulder. Titus giggled. Probably not the best example to set. Poor Alok already had Amelia yanking on him constantly. “You shouldn’t call Ren a dullard.”

  Alok grimaced. “All he ever talks about is the weather.”

  “What do you expect from a forecaster?” Though I was inclined to agree with my mate and cousins. I’d found my mind drifting away the few times we had Zelie and Ren over. But Zelie appeared genuinely pleased with Ren. She owned a cute little cottage on the next lane over, and I knew she was tired of living alone.

  Too often, my dear friend had worried that there was something wrong with her and that she would never get married. She and Ren had been together for nearly two years. Zelie seemed mostly content, except for the fact that Ren was in no rush to marry or move in together. Lately, this had led Zelie back down the “what’s wrong with me?” road.

  “I’m twenty-eight, Fraya. Soon I’ll be thirty and too old to have children,” she lamented.

  “Nonsense,” I’d say. “There’s still plenty of time for all that.”

  I wasn’t sure what my cousins wanted from her. Their childhood crush on Zelie had followed them into their teenage years. Now they were twenty-one. I knew nothing of their love lives other than the fact that they’d never been in long-term relationships and didn’t like spending time apart.

  It made me feel all the more grateful I no longer had to deal with dating. I got to spend my life with my best friend and soul mate. He was a doting father, a helpful neighbor, an attentive lover, and a fantastic cook. Somehow, he managed to keep the house tidy even with the whirlwind that was Amelia. That girl was a F5 tornado who only seemed to pick up speed with every passing day.