“Cedric, my people suffer.” Elisabeth surged forward, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to a stop. She looked at him pleadingly. “Please, they cannot wait any longer to be free of Ismena.”
Cedric stared at her a moment before shaking his head and turning away. He roughly yanked his arm out of her grip. “Now don't try to pull that one on me. I'm sure that your beauty has worked as a powerful tool in the past, but it will not be working on me.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?” Elisabeth asked.
Cedric turned back to her, sizing her up with his eyes. “You will find that I am far harder to persuade than anyone you have met in the past.” His eyes darted down to her lips then back up to her eyes as the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Although, you're welcome to try.”
Elisabeth shoved him. “How dare you insinuate such a thing, you cad! That I would stoop so low as to- to- Why, to even imply such a thing is obscene!”
Cedric shrugged. “It was only a suggestion. No need to get so high and uppity. It's not like it would have worked anyway. I'm not like the other men you have met, Liz. I will not be swayed to your opinion via the batting of eyelashes or a strategically placed pout. I am immune to your charms, and will not be changing my mind. We will not strike today.”
Elisabeth narrowed her eyes. “You offend me, sir.”
He had the audacity to laugh. “I'm sure I did. It must be hard to have one person deny you, but never fear. I hear it's good for you. It builds up character.”
Elisabeth clenched her fists and fumed. “I would never try to charm you! It would be safer to charm a snake.”
Fergus gasped and glanced between the two of them. The other dwarfs looked on amused. Cedric continued to smile his lazy, infuriating smile. “I'd be careful doing that. I hear they have a nasty bite.”
“My point exactly.” Elisabeth turned her attention to smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, trying to regain her composure. She couldn’t believe that she had actually stooped to begging to that snake. “Very well, if you will not help me and uphold your end of the bargain, then I will go myself.”
She didn’t know how she would manage to defeat Ismena on her own, but it was better than continuing to trust the trickster prince and being prey to his whims.
Cedric snorted. “I wouldn't let you.”
Fury flared through her. She whirled and glared. How dare he keep suggesting this as if he had power over her? She was not his prisoner, their only tie was a deal. A deal which she never intended to keep. She had always had the upper hand. “You couldn't stop me.”
“Me money's on the princess,” Kenrick whispered loudly to the twins.
“Then ye'll be losin' it,” Alban told him gruffly.
Aldrus shook his head. “Nah, I'd wager nine month's wages on the princess any day. Ol' Cedric doesn't stand a chance.”
Cedric glanced back at him, his lips pressed together in a hard line. “I thank you for your confidence.”
“Me money's on the prince,” Gabriel called.
Lucius shook his head. “Yer bein' ridiculous.” But Elisabeth noticed him exchanging money with Florian.
Cedric turned back to Elisabeth and crossed his arms. “I'm sure that I could and that I would, princess.”
“You are mistaken, prince.”
A slow smile formed on Cedric's face. “No, I am not. As I stated yesterday, I could easily kill you- I still can. Instead I made a deal with you. A deal that I intend to keep. I will uphold my end of the bargain, but I shall do so on my own terms. And I will not allow you to get yourself killed before you can uphold yours.”
“Is that really why you insist that you won’t bring me when you do strike?” Elisabeth asked, narrowing her eyes.
Cedric clapped. “As ever, you are so astute.”
“I wouldn’t die,” she spat, rankled.
“I believe that we’ve had this conversation before,” Cedric muttered in a bored tone.
“I could be of some help.”
“Yes, we’ve definitely had this conversation.” He leaned closer to Gabriel and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Next she’ll mention something about being our guide.”
“I could! I know the way, I’ve lived in that palace for three years.”
“As I stated, when we previously had this conversation, simply draw me a map.”
“But I could help with fighting.”
Cedric huffed a little laugh. “We already decided that your magic that you are too afraid to use will be no help. Besides, I have seven mercenaries to help me with that.”
Elisabeth tapped the toe of her bot against the broken tile of the floor. “And with me you could have eight extra swords.”
“You don’t even have any experience whatsoever with a blade.” He smirked and raised his eyebrows. “Do you?”
Elisabeth bit down on her lip and glanced down at the ground. “Perhaps not. But… you could always teach me.”
Cedric scoffed, but then he seemed to consider it. “I suppose I could, but why would I?”
“It would certainly aid me in not dying.”
“Or it could lead to you dying more quickly.”
“Not if you were a good teacher,” Elisabeth said, jutting her chin. She saw it then, the spark in his eye. A challenge. She had struck the right cord.
Cedric strode forward slowly, before drawing to a halt and looking her over. Finally he shrugged. “What could be the harm?”
“A sword through the heart,” Gabriel muttered.
Cedric chuckled and slapped a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder as if he had said some joke. “Alban, I’ll need a sword.”
Wordlessly, Alban drew a sword and tossed it to Cedric. There was something practiced about the movement as if it was an everyday occurrence. Elisabeth noted that Cedric didn’t carry a sword. Was that because he made the dwarf carry it for him? She could believe that.
Cedric pointed the sword at the youngest dwarf. “And Kenrick, why don’t you give the princess your sword.”
Kenrick placed his hand protectively over the hilt of his sword. “Why does it have to be my sword?”
“Because I asked you. That's why. Now hand it over.”
Aldrus elbowed him. “Come now, you did say you were her humble servant.”
Kenrick grumbled under his breath, but unsheathed his sword and tossed it to Cedric. Cedric caught it mid-air. He turned to Elisabeth, holding the hilt out to her. “Now, Lizzie, prove yourself. Swing at me.”
Elisabeth hesitantly accepted the sword and held it awkwardly, the weight pulling at her wrist. “That's it? No introduction?”
Cedric held his arms out, leaving his torso exposed as if welcoming any strike that she would land. “You should take the fact that I'm offering you the first swing as your introduction. Normally I don't allow anyone who is armed in my proximity to remain armed for long.”
“He doesn't!” Aldrus cried, jumping back as the other dwarfs all stepped out of reach.
Elisabeth licked her lips as she watched them before turning back to Cedric and holding the sword up so that it pointed at him. “Fine, but do not blame me if I hurt you.”
“Believe me, I won't,” Cedric said with a smile.
Elisabeth slashed her sword at him. Cedric easily jumped out of the way. “Is that the best you have?”
Elisabeth pulled back and swung again, but she lost her balance when her legs became entangled in her skirts.
Cedric deflected her blow with a laugh. “You're worse than I'd thought you would be, and that is saying much. Ismena would have killed you by now, you know.”
Elisabeth swiped her sword at him, but she pulled back when she thought that she might hit him. He smacked the side of his sword into her stomach lightly, insultingly so. “Just like a princess, afraid to get her hands dirty--”
Elisabeth blew out a frustrated breath and lunged at him. Cedric jumped to the side, but too late. Her sword caught him in the side and a dark area soaked through his tunic.
Ce
dric cried out and fell to the ground. He did not move to get back up.
Elisabeth dropped Kenrick's sword and hurried to his side. “Oh, goodness! I didn't mean to- please don't die!” She knelt next to him and pressed her hand to his side. She was surprised not to feel any wetness. She pulled away to see that the dark spot was not red, but black, and oddly mist-like.
Cedric suddenly grabbed her arm and yanked her to the ground next to him. She struggled to rise, but he pressed his blade against her collar.
“Rule number one in swordplay, princess; never let your guard down. Rule number two, never fall for your enemy's tricks. You broke both those rules.”
Elisabeth pulled away, feeling a blush wash over her pale skin. “That is not fair. You tricked me.”
“Do you think that Ismena or any of her lackeys will play fair?”
Elisabeth pressed her lips together.
“I didn't think so.” A smirk stretched across his lips as he pushed himself to his feet. He held his hand out to her. “That's rule number three. Never expect your enemy to play fair.”
Chapter
Seven
“Mirror, mirror,” Ismena murmured absently to herself as she stared at her reflection in the full length looking glass that had been Elisabeth’s. She raised her hands to arrange her golden curls until they were perfect, but she froze when through the mirror she spotted a small chest that wasn’t completely closed. Something was protruding from it.
She frowned as she turned and strode toward it, but she didn’t reach for the chest. She hesitated a second, before cursing her fear and opening it. She gasped at what she saw.
Inside was a small doll with dark yarn for hair and white cloth for skin. Ismena’s heart stuttered as she picked it up. She remembered when her stepdaughter had come crying after being teased mercilessly by the children of some nobles. Elisabeth had asked, “Why do I look different from everyone else, mother?” Something about that pitiful expression had spurned Ismena to sew her this doll, one that would look like her.
Ismena lurched back, as if she could put some distance between herself and the doll, but her hand refused to release it.
She turned in a flurry, but froze when she saw her reflection staring back at her with wide eyes. She looked panicked, scared. Her eyes were beginning to turn red. For the first time since she had taken the throne Ismena no longer looked immaculate.
It was that girl’s fault, Ismena reminded herself. Always that girl’s fault. If it hadn’t been for that girl, perhaps Stephan would have loved her rather than mourning so deeply for his first queen. It was the girl’s fault that she had become the fairest in the land. That in itself was her death sentence.
Ismena clenched the back of her teeth so hard that the searing pain shot up her skull in the beginning of a headache, but she didn’t stop. She needed to remind herself of all that she had worked for. She held up the doll, staring at it one last time before she stepped toward the roaring fire and tossed the doll in. “All must fall,” she spat as she watched the doll crumble away into dust. “Till I’m the fairest of them all.”
She reached into her small satchel and raised the braided flap, pulling out her Nytheran mirror. “Mirror mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?”
The mirror glowed blue before a masculine voice intoned in a bored voice.
My queen, you are beyond fair- that is true.
But the princess Elisabeth is a thousand times more beautiful than you.
“Lies!” Ismena screamed. She flung her arm out and came very close to smashing the mirror against the wall. “Elisabeth is dead! Dead, I say! I have her heart.” Ismena stomped over to the wooden box where she had put the princess's heart and flung open the lid, revealing the revolting organ.
Indeed you have a heart- that is true.
But the princess’s heart doesn’t belong to you.
“What do you mean that I don’t have her heart? The captain of the guard brought it to me just yesterday. Explain yourself! And confound it all, stop speaking in those ridiculous rhymes.” Ismena glared at the mirror. He was too lazy to come up with proper rhymes so he always did the same rhyme over and over. Simply to aggravate her, she supposed.
You have been falsely informed, you foolish queen. Do you think that loyalty is so lightly bought? The guard brought you the heart of a pig. His loyalties lie with the princess still.
“What?! If my stepdaughter is alive then where is she?!”
The princess escaped into the dark forest in the night. There she found the aid of seven dwarfs. She now conspires to retake her kingdom with the son of Morren, whom you betrayed.
“Constantly reminding me of that betrayal is not going to make me feel any guilt. Now… Guards!” Ismena shouted.
One of her guardsmen hurried into her chambers with a quick bow. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Go fetch the guard known as Luk, and do be quick about it.” The guard bowed again and exited the room.
A few minutes later, the guard entered with Luk.
“You wished to see me, my queen?” he asked with a small bow.
“You lied to me,” Ismena said, stepping in front of him. She fingered the mirror as she spoke. “Or so my Nytheran Mirror says.”
Luk glanced down at the mirror. He trembled slightly, but raised his chin in defiance. “And I would do it a hundred times over,” he spat.
Ismena slapped him. “Is that any way to speak to your queen?”
“You are not my queen.”
“Your insolence will cost you dearly,” Ismena seethed as the air grew cold. She directed an icy gust of wind to wash over Luk, turning him to ice.
Ismena forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She should have waited till she was elsewhere. Now she would have to make her guards remove the sculpture from the room. She would not have the face of such betrayal in her bedchambers.
“I am the fairest in the land,” she spat at Luk's frozen form.
You are not, the mirror annoyingly replied. Elisabeth is a thousand times more fair than you, just as her mother before her.
Ismena slipped the mirror back into the folds of her gown with a disgusted sneer. “We shall see.”
She turned her icy gaze to the nervous guardsman standing behind the statue of the frozen captain. “Summon the princess's remaining guards.”
He bowed quickly and rushed off.
Ismena swept to her box of vials. She had not made this type of potion for eleven years, but her skilled hand still knew its way. Soon she was holding a large flask of dark, seething liquid. She clutched the vial and the contents became frigidly cold. Thanks to her powers over the winter elements, it would now be more powerful than ever before.
The guards entered as Ismena was pouring a drop of the liquid into glasses for them. She turned to them. They shifted uncomfortably, avoiding looking at the statue of Luk.
“Now that you have sworn allegiance to me, all I require of you is to drink this and prove that you indeed serve me and me alone. Or… I suppose you will have to join your comrades in arms.”
Ismena stepped forward, holding out the cup to the first guard. He accepted it with shaking fingers. “What do you have in here?” he asked.
“Just a potion to inspire your utter loyalty.”
The man trembled as Ismena turned and summoned an icy wind to blow the other cups to the remaining fifty or so guards.
“Tush, tush, you will not die, I swear it. You have nothing to fear.”
The guards glanced nervously amongst themselves but downed the drought. The second they did so, they dropped to the ground convulsing.
“But-but, we swore allegiance--” the first guard choked off and collapsed, clutching his head in his hands.
“I have no need for disloyal guards,” Ismena spat. She raised her chin and watched the guards writhe on the ground until they stilled. Their transformation was complete. Silently the guards rose to their feet, their skin now an ashy blue and their eyes glowing as they awaited her
first command. An army of wights. “Find my stepdaughter,” Ismena said, her lips curling up into a cruel smile. “And end her.”
Chapter
Eight
Elisabeth sat staring at her hands. She couldn’t believe that after everything that happened, she had balked at the thought of killing Cedric. She had panicked. She had felt sick and weakened to think that she had drawn blood.
When she was supposed to kill Cedric.
She told herself that she was only surprised because she needed to keep him alive to help her defeat Ismena, but she knew that wasn’t the case. The very second that she saw the darkness soaking through his tunic, she panicked. Her heart had seized and guilt had crashed into her. Cedric was right, her conscience was too soft.
And she was going to make the same mistake as her father. Morren’s heir was too dangerous to live. Weak or not, her people relied on her. Already she had allowed Ismena to rule over them. She would not leave them to Cedric’s mercy as well.
She clenched her fingers into fists. When the time came, she would do what needed to be done.
Elisabeth looked up at the dark prince where he stood speaking to Kenrick, Alban, and Aldrus near the front end of the hall out of ear shot. She narrowed her eyes as she watched him, reminding herself of all the reasons she had to hate Cedric. Why she should relish it when she was finally able to strike that final blow.
He was arrogant.
A power monger.
A liar.
A trickster.
…And had yet to do anything truly evil. He was mischievous not malevolent. Elisabeth shook that thought out of her head. No. He was dangerous. He had to be stopped. When the time came she couldn’t hesitate.
She looked back at Cedric.
He was Morren’s son.
He was a dark lord.
He was… leaving?
Elisabeth frowned and pushed to her feet. She glanced down at the nearest dwarf, Lucius who was standing to her right. “Where is he going?”
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