Cursed Prince (Night Elves Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  And who the fuck was Barthol?

  I stopped myself from asking anything. Even if jealousy seared me down to my bones, I’d never allow myself to show it. I had enough pride to hide it.

  Also, I couldn’t speak, so asking her questions was awkward. I had only my paper and pen.

  I slid my hand into my pocket, my fingers grazing an ancient human musical device. Something had compelled me to bring it with me. I supposed I knew Ali would like it, since she’d seemed so enchanted by the old human world, and by music. I wanted to give it to her, but I’d wait for the right time. When she was relaxed, maybe.

  As we waited in the dimness, the air was still. A single ray of green light sifted from above us.

  We didn’t know how far it was to the ground or how long it might take for the leaf to reach it. A few minutes? An hour? Most likely, the leaf was already nestled among the roots below. But it was also possible that it still drifted on the strange cosmic winds. If we teleported too early, we might reappear a thousand feet above the ground and immediately plunge to our deaths.

  I looked to Ali, but she didn’t look at me. Instead, she stared into the darkness below us. She’d pushed her silver hair behind her ears so that I could see their points. Her expression was pensive—thoughtful, even. If she was worried about falling, she didn’t show it.

  At last, she turned to me. “All right. I think it’s time.”

  But this plan still unsettled me. Fear tightened my chest—such an unusual feeling for me. It was fear for Ali.

  We didn’t have another choice, however, and she’d been right that I might not make it back to her even if I survived the fall.

  I reached out, then pulled her in to me. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and I breathed in her jasmine scent.

  With her so close, I felt the warmth of my soul. My mind shimmered with memories of a distant life before Ragnarok… Something I’d forgotten completely. I’d had a pet once: a tamed wolf who’d walked by my side and slept by my bed. I could feel his soft fur.

  Then a completely unfamiliar memory: sitting on a sofa before a TV, drinking wine from a box. A man sat across from me—a Night Elf with silver eyes and a mischievous grin.

  That wasn’t my memory. That was Ali’s. And that man who smiled at her—I had a feeling that was Barthol.

  I exhaled slowly, forcing the images from my mind. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Gods, I wanted to drink her soul, down to the last drop, and to taste her lips while I was at it. I wanted her vitality…

  She seemed oddly trusting of me, even knowing what I was.

  With my arms curled around her, she whispered softly. Even through my closed eyelids, I could see a purple flash as we teleported to the vergr crystal.

  I waited for the whistle of wind in my ears, the sense of vertigo as we began to free-fall, but instead I found my feet firmly planted on the ground.

  I opened my eyes, and at first, I couldn’t even comprehend where we were. There was no sign of Yggdrasill’s mighty roots, no enveloping darkness. Instead, warm sunlight met my eyes, wind ruffled my hair, and I breathed in the scent of grass and wildflowers.

  As my eyes focused, I saw that we stood in a great plain of yellow grass, so tall that it nearly reached my waist. The wind gusted, blowing the grass in undulating waves. The plain spread all the way to the horizon, to where it eventually ended in a range of blue mountains.

  It was quiet but for the sound of the wind, and I turned to see Ali standing next to me, her mouth half open. Like myself, she looked out on the vista, almost not comprehending what it was. I closed my eyes, exalting in the feel of sunlight on my skin. When I opened them again, I saw Ali doing the same. A glorious, beaming grin lit up her face, and warmth flickered in my chest. She’d never felt the light of a summer sun.

  A bird called. I looked up to see a solitary raven crossing above us in the sepia sky. Thin clouds masked the sun, but even so, golden light filtered down. I realized that, for the first time in my life, I had no idea where I was.

  That thought unnerved me, and I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. We were no longer in Yggdrasill’s cosmic domain, which meant we’d probably ended up in another one of the Nine Worlds. We weren’t in Midgard, since it was perpetually frozen after Ragnarok, but unfortunately, that left eight more.

  Next to me, Ali spoke softly—the same question. “Where are we?”

  I shook my head and drew out my notebook. I’m not sure, I wrote. I’ve never seen a place like this.

  Ali looked down at her splayed fingers, tinged with faint gold in the sunlight. “Is this what summer is like?”

  I nodded and realized I didn’t really care where I was. As the wind ruffled my hair again and I heard insects for the first time in a thousand years, a deep peace settled over me. This place felt primordial—it had clearly escaped the ravages of Ragnarok. It was heaven, and with Ali here, I nearly felt alive again. I had the strongest impulse to give her the gift of music now.

  Dust rose in the distance. A chariot pulled by a brace of horses sped toward us. Instinctively, I stepped in front of Ali.

  As it neared, I saw that a single figure drove it. A man with thick black hair that flew out behind him like a lion’s mane. Not speaking, he drew up the horses twenty yards from us. As the dust settled, I saw that he was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of calfskin trousers. Blue tattoos snaked over his warrior’s physique, and his eyes were the color of the deep forest.

  He ignored me entirely, his green eyes focused solely on Ali.

  Already, I hated him.

  And I had no idea what he was. His ears were pointed—an elf of some sort, but I’d never seen one that looked quite like him.

  “Who are you?” asked Ali, breaking the silence.

  The man smiled, revealing a row of white teeth. “Are you travelers?” he asked, ignoring her question.

  “Yes.”

  The man gestured to the plain. “These are the plains of Vanaheim.”

  I cursed in my mind. Vanaheim—it made perfect sense now. Home of the Vanir. A growl rose in my throat, and the horses trembled.

  The stranger looked at me, and I saw his expression tighten as he recognized what I was. “We don’t have your kind in our lands very often.”

  “We arrived by accident,” Ali said. “If you can tell us how to return to Yggdrasill, we will be on our way.”

  The man shook his head. “That, I cannot do. All visitors are required to present themselves to the Emperor. You will follow me.”

  Chapter 26

  Ali

  I walked next to the stranger’s chariot as if in a dream. The air hummed with the buzz of insects, the distant calls of birds, and the scent of wildflowers. We’d lost our way on our journey, but I still felt like I was in paradise, bathing in heavenly sensations I’d never experienced.

  I’d been born underground, raised in damp caves and caverns. Sure, I’d spent time above ground. With my vergr stone, I’d been able to cross Galin’s wall to visit the world of men. But Midgard was frozen and nearly lifeless. Nothing had prepared me for the feeling of a warm sun on my skin, the wind in my hair, or the gentle brush of grass against my legs.

  So this was what summer felt like.

  And this was what my people had lost. Now I understood the pain of the Shadow Lords, those who’d been born before Ragnarok. They remembered life outside the caverns. They remembered the sound of bees, the sensation of wind, the warmth of the sun.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have been born a Night Elf. I was made for the sun. And now, with the golden ring, maybe I had what I needed to free my people.

  I ran my hand through the grass. This was something worth fighting for, and I would do anything so the Dokkalfar could see the light again. Even if it was just the winter light of Midgard.

  The shirtless newcomer led Marroc and me over the plain and into a long, sloping valley. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face, and when I looked over at Marroc, I saw that delight danced in his
eyes. How old was he, anyway? Liches didn’t die.

  “Have you felt this before?” I asked. “Did you ever know summer?”

  As his smile faded, sadness flickered in his eyes. So, he was over a thousand years old. What had happened to him? Maybe he’d just wanted immortality and had given up his soul to live forever.

  As we walked, I felt my cheeks flush, and a trickle of sweat ran down my neck. I pulled my coat off, tucking it under my arm, and took in the scene around us. Horses roamed in the fields. White, gray, roan, and bay, there were hundreds of them grazing on the golden hillsides. They watched us with curious eyes, and our guide rolled on in his chariot to our right.

  I was deliriously happy.

  Marroc touched my arm. He was holding a little white square out to me, with two pieces of string attached to what looked like beads.

  Confused, I took it from his hand, frowning at it. It looked human, but I didn’t know what it was. What was I supposed to do with this?

  Then he popped one bead in each of my ears.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He leaned over me and pushed a button on the little square. A single word flitted across the screen.

  Beyoncé.

  And with it, music began to play. My grin widened at the sound of the music—the most glorious sound I’d ever heard filled my ears.

  Beyoncé, whomever she might have been, was a genius. A goddess of music.

  Here, I had sunlight, I had music, and almost nothing could be more perfect.

  Marroc was watching me listen to the music, mischief twinkling in his eyes as I smiled at him. Here in the bright daylight, I could truly see his beauty. Before he’d been in prison, I imagined he’d broken a million hearts. And this, the music—it was almost a romantic gesture.

  Still, only an idiot could let herself get charmed by a lich. Because charming was what they did: luring you close, letting you feel safe before they drew blood.

  So, I’d enjoy the music, and I’d enjoy the sun.

  But I could never forget what Marroc was.

  I glided along, hardly noticing the scenery as Beyoncé sang into my ears. I’d never heard anything quite like her before. Maria Callas might have been the closest, but she didn’t sing in a language I understood.

  At this point, we’d walked to the bottom of the valley. A few yards away, a wide river flowed. Clean and clear, it ran swiftly between large boulders. As soon as I saw it, I realized how thirsty I was. It looked amazing.

  The charioteer led his horses to the bank to drink, and I followed. I crouched down, cupping my hands to lift icy water to my lips.

  “How far do we have to travel?” I asked the guide once I finished.

  “Not far.” His dark hair lifted in a breeze, and he turned away from me to direct the horses onto a dirt path wending alongside the river.

  I slipped the little music beads back into my ears, but this time made sure to pay attention to our surroundings. We walked as the sun slid lower in the sky, staining the grass with peach hues. Grasses glowed more golden than I ever could have imagined. Only then did it occur to me that time was different here—daylight where it was night in Midgard.

  At last, we turned away from the river, moving toward a high bluff. As we approached it, my breath caught at the view. Below us, hundreds of buildings ringed an ancient temple, all made of gleaming sandstone.

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  Our ebony-haired guide stood tall. “Njord’s Hall.”

  “And the Emperor is down there?”

  Our guide nodded, turning the chariot toward a path down the side of the bluff.

  I was getting annoyed at the dust it kicked up, which stuck to my damp skin, and the fact that he hadn’t asked us to join him on the chariot.

  But soon, we merged with a larger road that led into the city, and we began to pass more people. Gleaming stone buildings stood on either side of us, with wispy curtains caught in the wind. Like our guide, everyone around us had dark hair and green eyes. Even stranger, they all seemed to be men. Nearly as beautiful as Marroc, muscular and tattooed—all of them intent on me. If I stuck around here too long, I’d get a bit of an ego.

  I saw their eyes widen with surprise as we passed.

  “Are there women here?” I asked.

  Our guide didn’t answer.

  The sun had nearly set, casting long shadows over the city, when we finally reached the center. A massive temple stood before us. Built of enormous blocks of tan sandstone, it towered over the dwellings around it, its great columns spearing the sky. Unlike the Citadel, this building was half in ruins. Chunks of rock had crumbled away, and most of the roof had fallen in.

  We passed through a broad gate flanked by guards wearing breastplates and golden helms. Our guide dismounted from his chariot and turned to face us.

  His eyes never left me as he spoke. “This is where I leave you.”

  When I turned, I saw the guards circling behind. It seemed like they were blocking our exit, and it took all my willpower not to call Skalei to me.

  A new guard dressed in silver armor led us into a large hall, where thick animal hides covered the floor and golden tapestries hung on the walls. Embroidered with blue and purple threads, they depicted herds of horses, forests and stags, and great battalions of dark-haired soldiers. In here, the air was cool and dry, and light streamed in from an oculus high above.

  “Welcome to my kingdom,” came a voice from the far end of the hall.

  I turned and saw a tall man striding toward us. Like the rest of the men we’d seen, he had ebony hair and green eyes, but he wore a small gold circlet on his head.

  So, this was the Emperor.

  “Come closer, travelers.” As he walked closer, his voice boomed off the walls, and the guards led us toward him.

  When we were about fifteen feet from him, the Emperor held up his hand for us to stop.

  “Who are you?” he asked. Softer now, his voice a gentle tenor.

  “I am Ali, daughter of Volundar.” I decided it was best not to mention that I was a trained assassin.

  “A Night Elf? With a lich?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it true you were found on the high plains?”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t sure how much information to offer.

  “What brings you to our kingdom?”

  “The wind blew us here.”

  For an instant, confusion flickered over the Emperor’s features, and he frowned slightly. “From where was that?”

  “Yggdrasill.”

  The Emperor’s frown deepened. It was obvious that he wanted to question us, but also clear that he didn’t want to give up his position of passive authority. “Your kind does not travel along the roots of the Great Tree.”

  I cast a quick glance at Marroc, but he didn’t look worried. “Not often.”

  The Emperor stared at me. His green eyes roamed over my body, and I tried not to imagine how I must look covered in a thick layer of bone dust and squirrel fur.

  Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, his gaze flicked to Marroc. “Who is the lich?”

  Marroc met the Emperor’s eyes, which were beginning to glow in the dim light of the temple. The lich looked annoyed, and I thought he probably didn’t like how he was being addressed.

  “His name is Marroc,” I said.

  The Emperor’s gaze flicked back to me. “Is he your lover?” he asked smoothly.

  Chapter 27

  Marroc

  I’d been growing increasingly irritated with the Emperor, but this question delighted me, particularly since Ali’s cheeks were flushing.

  “No,” she said, clearly caught completely off guard. “He’s not my lover. We just came here by accident, really. And we are trying to get back to Yggdrasill.”

  My fingers twitched as I realized the Emperor was still staring at Ali with an expression that I understood perfectly. Even covered in grime, with her silver hair snarled and matted with dirt, her beauty shone through.
Anyone could see that. And based on how the Emperor’s eyes moved over her body, he could see as well as anyone.

  Already, I sensed that he wanted to keep her here, which made me consider ripping his throat out and sucking his soul out from his body.

  Though that might cause political problems, so I’d avoid it if possible.

  And I needed his help to get out of here.

  What I needed was leverage—a weakness to exploit—and I tried to remember what I knew of the Vanir. They were a race of warriors. Thousands of years before my birth, they’d fought the High Elves to a draw before retreating into their kingdom. Since then, nothing had been heard from them. They were also said to be followers of Freya, wife of Odin, goddess of love and witchcraft.

  The Emperor was staring at Ali now with an intensity that made my muscles tense.

  “It is my pleasure to have you here,” he continued. “It is not often that our kingdom gets visitors. Tonight, we must host a feast.”

  Ali rubbed her forehead. “We really just want to get back to the tree.”

  His eyes flicked to his guards, imparting some information I did not understand, before he turned back to Ali. “Is there anything that you require for your stay here?”

  “The way out?”

  He smiled placidly. “We’ll get to that in time. But for now, let me offer you full use of my chambers. You appear to have had a long journey.”

  The Emperor’s chambers were sumptuous, spread out with golden carpets, ottomans, and daybeds. A warm breeze whispered in through large windows that overlooked a city of sandstone. Bamboo canary cages and pedestals holding bowls of fruit stood around the room. Ali seemed delighted by the fruit, and was exploring the place with a half-eaten apple in her hand.

  It reminded me of the splendor I’d grown accustomed to when I was young. And yet none of this was getting me to Loki’s wand any faster.