Cursed Prince (Night Elves Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  The king spun and pointed Levateinn at Ali’s chest. “But this little tunnel-elf can die. If you take one more step, I will transform her into a bug and squash her.”

  Time seemed to stop.

  “I thought so,” Gorm said as I turned to face him once again. “Yes, the tunnel-elf is important to you.” He pressed the wand against her temple as if it were a gun. “Now tell me where your soul is. I want it returned to you, and then you must pledge fealty to me once more. You will wear the crown, the Helm of Awe.”

  The Helm of Awe was a crown that could control your mind, and I had only a hazy understanding of why he wanted all this to happen. With my soul back, I would be a powerful sorcerer. And if I wore the Helm of Awe, I would be a powerful weapon in the king’s arsenal. My magic would be completely under his control. Once, I’d worked for him, but I’d made my own decisions. If I wore the Helm, he’d be making them for me.

  King Gorm was rotten to his core, and this would be a disaster. And yet—what choice did I have? I had an immediate problem, and that was saving Ali’s life. The long-term problem would have to wait.

  Hazy memories flickered of my past life with him, and a dreadful understanding began to dawn. I hadn’t just worked for him, had I? No… I knew these people much more intimately than that.

  King Gorm stepped closer to Ali. “You have three seconds to make your choice.”

  Cold fear chilled my blood. I saw the end game now. What I had to do, even if it would kill me inside. I was starting to remember him, to remember me.

  “Fine,” I said. “But you must guarantee to me that you will send her back to the Shadow Caverns.”

  “What?” said Ali.

  I locked my gaze on hers. “You need to trust me. I will look out for you.”

  “How touching,” said the king.

  “I need your oath,” I said to him. “That you will send Ali safely home if I give you what you want. I’ll wear your crown.”

  “Fine.” The king stood tall. “What do I care if a tunnel-elf is in a cave or dead? I give you my oath. I will send her back home safely.”

  Grief poisoned my blood at what I was about to say. I felt the weight of it like rocks crushing me.

  “Your Majesty,” I said, “if you let her live, I will wear the Helm of Awe. I will join the kingdom once again.”

  Chapter 59

  Ali

  Back to the Shadow Caverns? I didn’t want to go back home. I wanted to free the Night Elves, or all of this would have been pointless. “But what about Galin?” I asked.

  The king chuckled softly. “Come to me, my son.”

  His what? Marroc was a prince? The history books hadn’t mentioned his name. I only knew of Revna and Sune.

  What the Helheim was going on?

  I gaped as Marroc—Prince Marroc—began to walk closer to us. “My soul is within Ali. Ali, I won’t hurt you. You have my oath.”

  I tried to make sense of this. His soul was in me? It was hard to think straight with the king pressing the wand harder into my skull.

  If I hadn’t been bound, I’d have slashed the king’s throat open and demanded answers from the prince. Answers to questions like “where is Galin?” and “how the fuck did I end up with your soul?”

  Except the soldiers and their killing hexes would take me down before I got the answers.

  Gorm pointed the wand at Marroc. “Kneel and take the pledge, prince. Your true name has been struck from our history for a thousand years, but now it will be restored.”

  Shock flickered through me as Marroc knelt. I couldn’t quite believe this was happening, that I’d been with the prince of Elfheim the entire time. His true name…

  Dread was sliding over my thoughts.

  “Bring forth the crown!” shouted the king. “Place it on his head.”

  From the shadows, a guard stepped closer, carrying a silver crown, and he rested it on Marroc’s head.

  Slowly, Marroc began to speak. “I pledge my life, my ambitions, my desires, and my soul to Gorm, King of the High Elves.” His deep voice boomed over the amphitheater. “Let the bond last until he releases me. Until then, I am his servant to command however he may desire.”

  The silver crown gleamed brighter.

  “It is an honor to have you back in my service,” Gorm said. “But you are useless to me in this form. Your magic is smothered by the curse. It is time you were made whole.”

  Casually, King Gorm handed him Levateinn. The silver wand hummed in his hand.

  Marroc stood tall, peering down at me. Pain flickered in his eyes. He hated his father, didn’t he? But he was doing this for me.

  He held Levateinn straight out and slowly began to chant. Its tip shone in the winter light, and silvery magic collected on it. Then Marroc turned the wand so that it pointed at my head.

  The magic slid over me, cold as quicksilver, freezing me in place. A liquid metal filled my mouth. It streamed down my throat in a silver torrent, rushing into my stomach. In seconds, it began mixing with my blood.

  Pain like nothing I’d ever experienced coursed through me. I spasmed as the magic arched my back, wrenched my lips open in a silent scream, and ripped my consciousness away. I seemed to float up until I was looking down at my shivering form. On the dais, everything moved in slow motion.

  Marroc stood over me with regret in his eyes. He held the wand straight over his head. It had changed, transformed. The wand was now a sharp silver blade, flashing and shining as though lit by a thousand suns.

  The king’s guards stood around us, wands leveled at us. Marroc’s hair blew in the winter wind. All around us, twined Levateinn’s magic. Silver coils traced over the stones, twisted about my body, and continued to unspool down my throat in shining loops.

  Marroc’s voice rose, chanting louder than before, and the magic began to rush from the wand.

  I saw it pool at Marroc’s feet, saw him stumble, then fall to his knees. I watched as Levateinn’s magic rushed up his massive thighs, over the smoldering runes on his chest. For a moment, it paused at his throat, then his head snapped back as Loki’s magic began to pour into his mouth.

  In seconds, he’d transformed, his pale skin glowing until he looked like he’d been dipped in liquid gold. The magic carried our bodies together. My body twisted, shuddering, and something burst from my chest.

  Agony shot through me as my soul separated from my body. It hung there, suspended, an orb of pulsing light. Then the silver magic formed over it, and it dimmed until it faded away entirely. All that was left was a tiny silver ball hovering in the winter air.

  For a second I thought I was dead, but my consciousness didn’t dissipate. Instead, I continued to watch from above as the ball split in two. A pair of orbs now hung suspended above the dais.

  Everything happened in an instant. With a crack like a thunderclap, one orb shot into my body, the other into Marroc’s. My consciousness raced downward, plunged into my chest.

  I opened my eyes, shocked by what had just happened. My entire body trembled.

  And when I looked up at Marroc, I saw him completely transformed. His eyes were no longer blue but gold, the color of the rising sun. His black hair had transformed to blond, and it whirled around his head in the winter breeze. Now, he looked like the High Elf that he was—a golden warrior gleaming like the sun.

  He rose to his feet like a conquering god, his gaze still fixed on me. The crown gleamed on his head.

  Then, with one hand, he pulled me up from the floor. I hung limply as he drew me to his blazing chest. Heat from his body washed over me, and I felt like I was melting into him.

  “Ali.” His voice was deep and strong like the tolling of a church bell. “Ali,” he repeated, holding me tighter. His expression was ecstatic, rapturous. His hair continued to swirl around his head.

  Pressed against his chest, I could feel his heart beating thunderously. The smoky smell of his curse was gone, replaced by the scent of fresh sage. He lifted me up so that my face was level with his
. For the first time, I got a clear view of his features. Golden eyes, tawny skin, sensual lips. Tingly warmth rushed over my skin.

  “I need to return the magic I drank,” he whispered, his voice smooth as whiskey.

  Marroc leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, and my body warmed as magic flowed into me. My magic. Slowly, I could feel the strength filling me once more.

  He pulled away, looking into my eyes. Marroc’s golden eyes held mine with a sort of magnetic connection neither of us could break. Whether I liked it or not, we were bonded in some way.

  And that bond was so strong, so deliciously warm on my skin—I almost didn’t notice who he really was.

  All the warmth drained from my body.

  “Galin?” I clenched my jaw. “What the fuck?”

  “Oh, you’ve caught on?” King Gorm echoed in his flutelike voice. His eyes fixed on mine, flashing with unsurpassed glee. “Marroc is dead, but Galin now lives again. We’d banished the name Galin from our realms. But now, the curse is lifted. His soul is restored. He’s Galin again. The greatest elven sorcerer who ever walked this earth.”

  I stared at him, and an icy tendril of horror coiled through me, winding around my insides.

  This was the man I’d spent all my life wanting to kill, and he’d lied to me this entire time. But Galin had miscalculated. With that kiss, he’d just given me my strength back. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  As quietly as I could, I whispered, “Skalei.”

  Chapter 60

  Marroc

  My memories of the people around me were flooding back into me in streams. King Gorm—my father—had ruled over Elfheim when it had still existed. My sister Revna and I had hated each other since we were young. Sune had always been an idiot. In Elfheim, I’d retreated to the mountains and mastered the power of sorcery greater than any elf who’d ever lived.

  But I had to push out this overwhelming flood of memories to focus on the tragedy unfolding before me.

  “You—” Ali’s voice cracked.

  I’d been beaten, branded, stabbed, tortured, lived a thousand years with a curse that boiled my blood, but none of it compared to the pain that clutched at my heart as I saw the look of horror in Ali’s eyes.

  I opened my mouth to explain this to her, why I’d done what I’d done. But the crown on my head shot a charge of agonizing magic into my skull. My father, King Gorm, was in control of me now.

  Ali’s rage was palpable.

  “You,” she repeated, more slowly, in a surprisingly even voice. “You never mentioned that you were Galin, the great sorcerer. You were the one who locked the Dokkalfar in the Shadow Caverns. You’re the reason we’ve been living in the dark, dying of cave sickness. You never had any intention of helping me to free the Night Elves, did you?”

  That wasn’t true.

  Now, with the memories of my old life returned to me, I remembered it all. I remembered the terrible day when I’d cast the spell to imprison the Night Elves in the Shadow Caverns forever. And I remembered exactly why I’d done it. The way the crown worked, it would burn me if I disobeyed the King’s will. But at this point, I was plenty used to the pain.

  “It was the only way,” I said. A flash of pain seared my skull. I would find a way out of this. The King was a monster, but he wasn’t a genius.

  The King was shouting at me to stop, but I kept going, my head shot with agony. “I did it to protect the Night Elves, to hide them from my kind. The decision cost me my life and turned me into the monster I was for the past thousand years. The alternative for the Night Elves was death, and the Shadow Caverns were the only way to save—” The searing pain now grew too intense, choking off my words.

  “Silence!” shouted the king.

  “You must trust me!” I said to Ali.

  She was still staring at me, but I could see her mind working. She was planning something, wasn’t she? I needed to get her out of here before she did anything rash.

  The king paced around her. “Well, this is an interesting conversation, but I do believe I have an oath to make good on, sending this creature back to her pits. Make your portal, Galin.”

  Magic sparked down my arm, and my hand moved at his command. Power flooded my veins. With Levateinn clasped in my hand, I wove the runes through the air. This spell was perhaps the most crucial one of my life.

  I began to chant.

  Magic flowed from me, and for the first time in a thousand years, my skin didn’t smoke and my body didn’t burn. With Levateinn, I traced the rune isa. In front of me, the air brightened until it formed a pale circle, larger and larger, until it was big enough for a person to pass through.

  “All right,” I said, gasping with exertion. “It’s ready.”

  Chapter 61

  Ali

  With subtle movements, I sawed at the rope binding my wrists. Skalei was razor-sharp, but with my hands tied behind my back, I couldn't see what I was doing. I didn’t want to cut myself or drop the blade.

  “Go through the portal, girl,” King Gorm commanded from the far side of the dais.

  Dammit, I need more time to get answers from Galin. “It’s just been so magical watching this family reunion.”

  I was almost there. I could feel the rope parting. I just needed five more seconds.

  One of the guards lunged for me, but I just managed to make it through the last of the rope’s fibers, and it fell away. Skalei flashed as I slashed for him, and the guard stumbled, clutching his stomach. Blood pumped from between his fingers. I was free.

  “Stop her,” shouted Gorm.

  I leapt for Galin. He tried to catch me, but I was too fast. I slipped behind him and pressed Skalei to his throat.

  “Attack, and he dies,” I shouted, fairly certain I was bluffing. Somehow, I’d trusted what he said—that the Shadow Caverns spell could have been a way of keeping us safe. I just wanted more answers—now. “How do we free the Night Elves? If you die, would it break the spell?”

  “No,” said Galin. “You have my sacred oath.”

  “Then how do I do it? How do I break the spell?”

  His words were so quiet that I could barely hear them. It was a whisper meant only for me. “I promise to help break the spell. I will come for you.” I pulled the blade away from his neck just a little, and he turned, meeting my gaze. “I will find a way to fix this,” he mouthed. His golden eyes were imploring me to believe him, to go through the portal while I still could. His hand touched mine and pressed something into it.

  Then Galin grimaced, and I saw smoke rise for his hair. It seemed the Helm of Awe was hurting him. That meant he was disobeying the king—telling the truth.

  Behind me, I heard a hex buzzing on the end of a wand. The king had given his oath to send me home, but that didn’t mean his guards couldn’t kill me on the way. Seemed I was out of time.

  Before a guard could take a shot at me, I dove through the portal.

  Electricity sizzled as I jumped through it. For an instant everything was pitch black, then I slammed hard onto rough stone. I opened my eyes, but it was completely dark. I lay still for a moment, feeling only wet grit on my cheek.

  I scrambled to my feet, holding Skalei defensively as my eyes adjusted.

  Now, I stood in a towering cavern. Jutting down from the gloom above me were the tips of giant stalactites. But I hardly noticed them, as my gaze was drawn to the center of the cavern, to a massive column of gray stone that extended all the way from the floor to the ceiling.

  Covered in rippling flowstone, it stood as large as some of Boston’s skyscrapers. Small lights dotted along its sides. A thousand windows that’d been carved into the rock. I knew where I was. This was Sindri, the great hall where the Shadow Lords dwelled.

  I slowly breathed out. I’m back in the Shadow Caverns. Sent here by Galin himself—the sorcerer I’d been sent to kill. This was not how I’d planned to return, but it was becoming clear that there was more to the story than I thought. King Gorm had struck his son
’s name from the history books for a reason—which lent credence to Galin’s claim. Still, the Shadow Lords would never believe this version of events.

  Maybe, at one time, the caverns were a way of keeping us safe from the rest of the High Elves. But now? It was time to live in the light again. And I still believed I would do it—I would lead us there.

  I just didn’t think that the Shadow Lords needed to know everything.

  As I started to put Skalei away. I remembered how Galin had touched my hip, slipped something into my pocket. Gingerly I reached inside. I grinned when my fingers wrapped around the metallic object. The ring. He’d known exactly what I needed to keep the Shadow Lords happy.

  I began to run as fast I could toward Sindri. I had to tell the Shadow Lords that I’d returned. I had to give them the ring, to buy myself a bit of time while I figured out the real way out of this.

  I ran past fields of mushrooms, down the dark streets of the city of Myrk, until I reached the hall. I’d been to Sindri a hundred times, but I’d forgotten the enormity of its entrance, a massive tunnel carved directly into the living rock.

  A guard stood before the opening. Silver hair hung to the shoulders of his black chain mail. In one hand, he held a long halberd.

  “Who goes there?”

  My lungs burned, but I managed to get it all out on the first try. “Astrid, daughter of Volundar, Chief Assassin of the Shadow Lords.”

  “What is your business?”

  “I must speak to the Lords.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened on the halberd’s shaft. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

  “No,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. “This is for the Lords’ ears only. Tell them Astrid has returned from her assignment in Midgard. Tell them I must speak to them now. It’s extremely important.”

  The guard gave me a final suspicious look before he left his post. By the time he’d returned, I’d caught my breath.