by Amy Patrick
“No. No Mr. Nox here,” she says as she starts to push the door closed, her eyes wide with alarm.
My hand stops her from succeeding. Though she claims he doesn’t live here, the fact that she called him “Mr. Nox” lets me know I have the right house.
“Oh, well, when will he be back?” I ask in a cheery voice, refusing to be dissuaded. Again, I could just Sway her, but I’d rather not.
“No,” she repeats, sounding a bit more frantic this time. I’m thinking maybe his staff is forbidden to answer the door and this lady broke the rules. She’s obviously panicking now and trying harder to shut the door on me.
Well, I tried. Besides, she’ll feel better about her “mistake” if she doesn’t even remember it, right?
Focusing my eyes on hers, I will her to answer me. “What’s your name?”
“Marta,” she answers in a dazed way.
“Marta, please tell me where Mr. Nox is. Is he home?”
“No. Mr. Nox leave for Mississippi this morning. He comes back three months.”
Shoot. Three months is far too late for me. I’ll be back home in Atlanta by then and preparing for my wedding. I can’t believe I’ve gotten so close, yet I’m still so far from finding out if this guitar-playing, panty-influencing Nox is in reality my beloved childhood friend.
“Thank you, Marta. You can return to your work. And you will not remember meeting me or having this conversation.”
“Okay,” she answers woodenly, which makes me feel bad all over again. I’d hate to see the human brain on glamour. A CAT scan would probably resemble a person on some sort of mind-bending drugs.
Walking back down the beach toward where I left the car, I try to figure out what comes next. After graduation next month I’m sure Pappa will expect me to fly back out here and get down to work on my modeling career. And then in June, it’s off to Altum and my “destiny” as a royal bride. Unless I stand up to Pappa before then and tell him I won’t go through with it—that I’m enrolling in art school instead.
Just imagining that conversation makes me shiver in the hot California sun. I have no doubt Pappa’s reaction to such a declaration would be... not good. He’d probably lock me up until June and drag me to Altum in handcuffs, if necessary.
I can’t risk that. I really want to graduate. I want to see my classmates, to see Carter again. And I can’t make any progress toward changing my future if I’m a hostage in my own home.
No, I’ve got to keep my secret plans a secret. I’ll have to pretend to go along with Pappa’s design for my life and for my impending wedding. But I know now for sure—I can’t really go through with it.
Even if my new husband—ugh—was to move out to California with me, even if he allowed me to attend art school in addition to modeling, I have a whole new reason now for not wanting an arranged marriage.
I have to find out the truth about Nox Jerrik before becoming someone else’s wife. Because if he’s still alive... everything changes.
Chapter Fourteen
Home Again
We make one more stop on the way back from Malibu. The driver waits at the curb while I run into the library under the guise of needing a new book to read out by the pool.
I log onto a computer and check my email. There’s a new one from Carter—a few lines saying he’s looking forward to my return, which is nice. And then I see the one I’m hoping for. It’s from Professor Gould.
My finger trembles as I tap the key to open it.
Dear Ms. Hart,
I received your portfolio and application and passed them along to our head of school, Mrs. Moser. I am pleased to inform you that you have been admitted and may be eligible for some scholarship money as well. Please have your parents fill out the attached financial forms and send them to this address—”
The email goes on, ending with a big congratulations and official welcome to the Dowrey school, but I’m basically skimming at this point.
I got in! I’m going to art school!
I want to jump up and dance in the library but somehow manage to restrain myself. And now I’m dying to see Carter, too. Because he’s the only person—aside from Ava—that I can really share my excitement with.
Grabbing the first book I see, I toss it on the counter, take out a new library card first, and then check out the book to support my cover story. I force myself not to skip on the way to the car, but inside I’m celebrating because now I know for sure what my future looks like, and it does not include marriage at eighteen to a stranger.
In a few days I’ll be under Pappa’s roof—and under his thumb—in Atlanta again. But come fall, I’ll be back here and living life on my own terms. I just have to figure out the right time and the best way to inform the leader of the Dark Elves that I’m going to defy him.
* * *
By the time my plane lands in Atlanta, I’ve almost decided to just go ahead and tell Pappa about the art school and the scholarship. Maybe he’ll be proud of me, especially when I tell him that I’ll continue modeling as well. Anyway, it’s my life, and I’m nearly a legal adult. He can’t actually force me into this marriage if I outright refuse, right? We may be Elves, but this is America.
He didn’t pick me up as I thought he might. Instead, he sent his driver to the airport to get me. Once home, I step through the door and call out, “Pappa?” Surely he didn’t go to bed without seeing me first?
“Pappa,” I continue to call, walking down the hallway to his home office.
The light is on, shining under the door onto the marble hallway floor. Must be working late. I rap on the door lightly then open it and peek in. He’s sitting at his desk, talking on the phone, but gestures me in with two fingers.
Silently, I cross the floor and flop into the plush chair facing his desk, offering him a tired smile. We’ve never spent an entire week apart since the day I came to live with him, and I’ve actually missed him.
Yes, he’s demanding and less than affectionate, but he’s still the most constant presence in my life, and he’s taken care of all my needs for the past five years. Our relationship might not be like the one I shared with my mom and dad, but he’s the only “parent” I’ve got left.
Hanging up the phone, Pappa asks in a low, calm voice, “How was your trip?”
Something’s wrong.
His tone is off. The question feels like a baited trap, and my heart becomes a hummingbird thrashing against a plate glass window.
All thoughts of coming clean flee my brain. This—this is why I felt the need to hide my activities in the first place. There’s something about Pappa that’s a little frightening, even when he’s smiling as he’s doing now.
I force a carefree tone I don’t feel. “It was great. I think my modeling jobs went well—the clients seemed happy. And I had a good time with Ava. I enjoyed meeting her roommates.”
Pappa’s smile remains, but his eyes harden into the same predatory scrutiny he usually reserves for humans. “Apparently that’s not all you enjoyed.”
My pulse throbs so hard I’m afraid my eyeballs are bulging in and out in time with its rhythm. “What do you mean?”
One heavy, dark brow lifts. “It looks like you enjoyed your freedom as well.”
He tosses some papers onto the desktop between us where they land with a smack. Trying to control my quaking hands, I reach for the pages and pull them into my lap, and all the air leaves my lungs at once.
Print-outs of my emails from the library. The two with Carter. The two between myself and Professor Gould. How did he get these? How did he know?
I look up at his face, and I’m sure he can read the terror in mine. But he smiles again. This time there’s no mistaking the malevolence in the expression.
“After all I’ve done for you, Vancia, I must say—this hurts me.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I just want to live my life. How did you...”
Leaning forward across the desk, he drills me into my seat back with his stare. �
�As I’ve told you before, dear daughter, we all have a role to play—a job to do for the greater good of our people. Your new friend Ava did her job.”
“Ava?” A pang of betrayal squeezes my heart. “She told you. Was her job... to spy on me?”
“She was instructed to look out for you, and that’s exactly what she’s done. Don’t look so offended.” He laughs, relaxing into the high leather back of his desk chair. “It’s not as if keeping a watch on you was unnecessary, is it? It’s a good thing she was faithful to her task. Your... dallying could have ruined everything for all of us.”
He stands now, coming around to the front of the desk and towering over my seated position. “There will be no art school. And there will be no more communication with this human boy. If you care about his... welfare at all, you’ll obey me in this.”
I spring up from my chair to face him. “You leave Carter alone. If anything happens to him—”
Pappa’s head drops back and he laughs loudly. “You’re threatening me? What will you do? Hmmm? This plan is not only mine, but the High Council’s. Do you know how embarrassing it will be for me to face them again after what you’ve done? By now, Thora has informed them all about your extracurricular activities. I never dreamed my own daughter would shame me before my subjects.”
Anger burns my gut like ghost pepper sauce. Anger toward Ava for deceiving me. Toward the Council and their schemes. But mostly toward Pappa, for bringing up the idea of hurting my friend. For caring more about what the Council thinks than about what I might want. And for laughing at my feelings and hopes and dreams.
My voice is a low scrape in the quiet of his luxurious office. “You’re not my real father. My parents were Calder and Eira. And they’re dead.”
All amusement slides from Pappa’s face. “Yes. They are.” He leans in close enough for me to feel his hot breath strike my cheek. “And unless you’d like to join them in Alfheim, you’ll do as you’re told and remain useful to me. Never forget—you’re not my real daughter, either.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sweet Sorrow
“Hey, what’s up Tink?” Carter approaches me with a huge grin as I’m shutting my locker Monday afternoon.
“Hi,” I wheeze, my nerves short-circuiting at the sight of him. How am I supposed to do this—cut him off, stop being friends, or whatever we are?
He gives me a quizzical glance, head tilted to the side, brows raised. “You still jet-lagging?”
No doubt he’s wondering why I never returned his last email. Or called.
Even if I dared to do it, I couldn’t. Pappa took away my laptop and tablet and phone. I’ve been living in the Dark Ages for the past few days, and I don’t know how long it will last—probably until my blessed wedding day. Maybe even after that, when I’ll trade a controlling father for a possibly more controlling husband. I’m officially a prisoner in my own life.
“I’m fine,” I say without emotion, without looking at him.
“Ooookaaay.” Carter drags the word out, waiting for some sort of explanation for my pissy mood, I guess. When I fail to offer one, he tries again. “So, you have a good time in L.A.? Am I going to see your lovely face on the front of a magazine at CVS soon?”
“I’m late,” I say. “I’ve got to go. Sorry.” Like a complete coward, I whirl away and start toward my next class, trying to leave him behind. I have to—physically and emotionally.
But Carter catches up to me and drops a hand on my shoulder, stopping my forward motion and turning me around to face him. “What’s going on, Vancia? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”
Sighing and blinking back some really ill-timed tears, I say. “No. You didn’t do anything. It’s just... I got into the art school.”
“Well that’s great! So why—”
I shake my head. “I’m not going. Pappa found out and put his foot down.”
Now Carter’s normally jovial eyes turn stormy. “He can’t do that. That’s your dream. And it’s your life. You’ve got to do it anyway, Van. There’s got to be a way.”
“No,” I shake my head repeatedly. “There’s not.”
He frowns. “Well, maybe I can—”
“What?” I snap back. “Maybe you can what? Debate my father and make him change his mind? Give me the money yourself?”
My frustration-fueled jab hits its mark. Carter’s hopeful gaze drops to the streaked linoleum floor between us.
“Well, no. But I was thinking—I could maybe get a job out in California—I’ve always wanted to see it. We could, I don’t know, be roommates or something, and you wouldn’t need to rely on your father because...” His voice drifts off into an embarrassed silence.
A tear spills over onto my cheek. I wipe it away with one hand, wrapping the other arm tightly around my ribcage. “Carter... we hardly know each other.”
“I know. I know it’s stupid—I just want the chance to get to know you—I don’t want you to go away and never see you again. I feel like there’s something between us. Or there could be.”
I let out a shaky exhale, at a loss for words. He’s stunned me to the core with his proposition—and how much it appeals to me.
“I don’t know what to say. I wish... I want...” I can’t say what I want. I’m not allowed to want what I want.
Carter moves forward and wraps a hand around the back of my head, pulling my face to his. Before I can even think to protest, our lips come together and he’s kissing me. Right here in the hallway at school, like the couples I’ve seen together over the years—human couples.
The rush of pulsing sound between my ears drowns out the banging of locker doors and hallway conversation. There’s only Carter’s sweet, hot mouth moving against mine and the soft strikes of his rapid breathing on my cheek. My heart is rolling around inside my chest like it’s searching for the emergency exit.
My first kiss—well, except for the one Nox gave me about a week before the plane crash. Nox.
I pull away and stare up into Carter’s blue eyes, so open, so innocent, so unaware of the dangers my world presents to him. If there was something sinister behind the plane crash—if Pappa is so secretive about it for a reason...
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he says with a pleased grin.
Shaking my head sadly, I step back to put some room between me and the sweet, smiling boy in front of me. The boy I’m endangering just by being here with him. “Carter... you have no idea how much your offer means to me, how much your... friendship means. But moving out to California together would never work. My father is not what he seems. He’s more powerful than you can imagine, and he’s... dangerous. I can’t go against him, and if I did, I certainly wouldn’t involve you.”
Carter’s gaze grabs mine with a ferocity I’ve never seen in him before. He re-closes the distance between us and takes my hand, squeezing it. “I already am involved. And if you’re really scared of your dad—there’s no way I’m letting you go through this alone.”
“No. You’re not involved. You can never be.”
A new sense of comprehension enters his eyes. “I understand. You don’t feel the same way about me.” He releases my fingers and nods with a hard swallow.
“It’s because I do care about you that I have to do this. We can’t... we can’t study together anymore. Or email. Or anything else.”
He continues to nod, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
“I get it. Well, take care of yourself then. And Tink—” He steps back a couple of paces, preparing to turn in the opposite direction. “You can have the life you want. You can do anything you set your mind to. I don’t know where you’ll end up—but don’t give up, okay? I’d hate to see that beautiful light go out.”
The bell rings as he walks away. I stay in place, watching him go, watching the distance between us grow.
* * *
At dinner that night, Pappa and I eat in silence. Finally, as a servant clears the dishes and he’s beginning to rise from his chair,
I say something.
“May I speak with you?”
“If you’re going to try to argue with me—”
“I’m not.”
He sits back down and tents his fingers under his chin, elbows on the table, waiting for me to continue.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. I realize you’re trying to do what’s best for everyone—for me. And I apologize for sneaking around behind your back, and for... saying you’re not really my father. You’ve been very good to me, and I’m grateful for all you’ve done.”
He gives me a sincere smile. “Thank you for saying that.”
“And...” Here my voice almost fails me. The words that are about to come out of my mouth are so opposite of what’s in my heart that it’s difficult to force them. “I will do what you ask. I’ll drop the idea of art school. I’ll do the modeling and have a fan pod when the time’s right. And I’ll marry the son of Ivar.”
The smile turns into a beam of light. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen Pappa, including at his most recent election-night victory party. “This is wonderful news, Vancia.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Of course, you’re still under restriction—temporarily. I cannot let you have your computers and phone back yet.”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
And I don’t care. I don’t need them—not for the new plan I have in mind.
No, the allies I plan to enlist don’t even use email or phones or any other form of modern technology. I’ll need to see them in person. And that means going with Pappa to Mississippi.
To Altum.
To the home of the Light Elves.
Chapter Sixteen
Bridal Suite
Dirt. No matter which way I turn, all I see is dirt. How do they stand it?
I’ve been here in the underground Kingdom of Altum for three days now, and I’ve scarcely been allowed to leave my room. It’s nice enough, I suppose.
To be fair, the earthen walls aren’t exactly dirty—they’re more like stucco, tightly packed and textured. But there are no windows, and the glowing mineral rocks that provide room lighting give everything an unreal, mystical quality, like we’re living in some ancient fairy tale.