by Amy Patrick
The furniture here is all heavy and made of ornately carved wood. I haven’t seen a manmade fiber since we arrived. The Light Elves certainly look like the Elves from my tribe, but they act nothing like them, and where I’m so used to communicating through speech, none of them speak out loud. The ones I’ve interacted with so far have been kind, but all the mind-to-mind communication with these nature-lovers is giving me a headache.
I’ve yet to meet my groom—bad luck, Pappa says—and I suppose that’s why I’m stuck here in our assigned quarters until the ceremony, being served and pampered with pre-wedding beauty treatments and dress-fittings.
Maybe I’d actually enjoy all of it if I weren’t so desperate to speak to Ivar, to tell him about my father’s real motivation for the wedding—using me to control the heir to the Light Throne. Of course, Pappa says it’s all about uniting our people so we can join forces against the humans and claim rulership over them, to be worshipped and served by them once again as it was in the Old Days. Either way, I want no part of it.
My hope is that once Ivar knows the truth, he’ll call the arrangement off, and I’ll be free to leave and resume my search for Nox Knight.
According to what Nox’s housekeeper said, there’s still another week or two before he returns to California. That means he could be here in this very state right now—in this town even. And I’m trapped underground, wasting precious time.
The door to my room opens, and I look up from my book, jumping in guilty surprise.
Pappa strides in. “How’s my girl?” His tone is light, cheerful. His meetings today with the other tribes must have gone well.
“I’m fine, Pappa. Just bored. I’m ready to get this thing over with.”
“That doesn’t sound like an eager bride.”
I give him a sweet smile. A good-daughter smile. “You know what I mean. I haven’t even been allowed to meet him yet. My nerves are going crazy. What if we hate each other? What if he’s mean and ugly?”
Pappa chuckles. “I assure you he’s not ugly. I’ve met the young man. He seems a bit apprehensive as well, but I don’t think he’s mean.”
Hearing that my intended groom might not be all-in either gives me a jolt. It actually makes me like him a little. I guess I haven’t considered before now that he, also, might be doing this against his will or out of a sense of duty. Maybe the Light Elves aren’t so different after all.
Pappa crosses the room to the bed and runs his fingertips over the wedding dress I left wadded up there when I last pulled it off. He glances back over his shoulder at me, his eyes narrowing.
Are you excited about tomorrow?
He asked the question in the old Elven way. Which makes me nervous. He’ll expect me to answer him in similar fashion, which means lying will be impossible. Could he somehow know what I’m planning? No, there’s no way. I told no one this time. There is no one I can trust. I’m on my own—now and especially later, after I betray Pappa and tell his enemy clan what he’s really up to.
Yes, Pappa. It’s the most important day of my life. And that’s one hundred percent true. Tomorrow is the day I start standing up for myself, start doing what’s right for me instead of blindly following Pappa’s orders. My own little Independence Day.
He nods and goes to the door, leaving without another word.
I don’t like the thought of losing his love. But then, I’m not really sure I ever had it in the first place. Love is not something that’s high on his list of priorities. He’s so filled with hatred for the humans and his desire to dominate them that there’s no room in his heart for anything else.
Chapter Seventeen
Wedding Day
For the first time in my life, I feel like a princess. No less than three attendants are helping me dress, doing my hair, preparing me to marry a prince. It’s uncomfortable, and certainly unfamiliar, to be served like this. And if all goes well, it will be completely unnecessary.
Though I was born the daughter of the Dark Elf king, I never saw my parents act like royalty. They certainly didn’t raise me to behave as if I were different or somehow better than the other children I knew. But as I turn to observe myself in the full-length mirror, I definitely look different.
The white dress is made of Elven hand-spun material, light as a spider web on my skin, achingly beautiful, with a sheen that makes it seem to glow from within.
Whatever they’ve done to my hair makes its natural platinum color shimmer like moonlight. I’ve been drinking saol water straight from the source since arriving, and my skin has benefitted, also bearing the healthful, clear glow that is the hallmark of the Light Elves.
If I were a real bride and actually planning to go through with this, I’d be delighted with my wedding day look. But as things stand, it feels more like I’m all dressed up for my own funeral.
The life I’ve known will die today. My relationship with my adoptive father will die. I suppose there’s a small chance my actions could lead to my actual death. I don’t know King Ivar. Will he be so furious about the deception that he’ll react with deadly force? Could Pappa ever be angry enough with me to sentence me to death for my insubordination instead of just banishing me?
It doesn’t matter. I study my reflection and my jaw sets. My eyes look different now, too. They are filled with a new determination—to change my life and my destiny—or die trying.
The door to my quarters opens, and the woman in charge of ceremony planning steps in. Are you ready? she asks.
I am.
I follow her down the hall, my train flowing behind me. Will I get a chance to even meet my groom and his father before the ceremony, or will I have to announce my refusal during the actual event, in front of hundreds of witnesses? I am truly hoping it doesn’t have to happen that way. I have no wish to publicly humiliate Pappa.
I just want out. I want my own life.
The murmur of a large crowd steadily grows as we near the ballroom of the royal residence. We pass the doors, which are slightly ajar, and I get a glimpse inside. My heart flips, then flips back over again.
The space is filled with colored light, fancifully dressed people. This is a bigger event than I’d even pictured. There aren’t hundreds of witnesses, but thousands. Wonderful.
Thankfully, the wedding organizer leads me to a small sitting room near the entrance to the ballroom. I still have a few more minutes to gather my courage and make my peace with whatever may come.
Wait here.
She leaves me, and I fall into a chair in one corner, nervously running my fingertips over my freshly buffed and shined nails.
I can do this. I can do this.
I start to picture the reaction of the attending crowd when I stop the ceremony and make my shocking announcement, and then I banish the mental picture. If I think too much about the consequences, I might not go through with it.
And then I’m no longer alone.
Into the small room steps King Ivar. Suddenly, I remember him from the Assemblage ten years ago. He looks the same—all tall, square-jawed handsomeness, with dark golden curls and piercing green eyes. From the way he carries his body to the expression on his face, he epitomizes leadership. This is a king, in every way. Compared to him, Pappa seems... well, he seems less.
Following shortly behind him, a young guy comes in. There’s no doubt he’s the king’s son—he looks exactly like him. For the first time, I’m looking at the boy I’ve been betrothed to since I was twelve. Only he’s not a boy. If this guy were to set foot in my high school back in Atlanta, there would be some sort of hormone-infused girl-fight in the cafeteria.
Like his father, he’s tall, broad-shouldered, with loose blond curls and remarkable green eyes. My fiancé is probably the best-looking eighteen year old I’ve ever seen in my life. And there’s no way I can marry him.
I rise to greet them. Instantly a tremor begins in my fingers. The tiny earthquake travels up my arms, to my stomach, down to my legs where it settles in, making me want to fall b
ack into my chair.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I can do this.
Greetings Vancia, and welcome to our home. I trust this occasion is as happy for you as it is for... all of us? The king shifts his face slightly to give his son the evil eye, as if daring him to disagree.
This is it. My opportunity to say what I’ve come to say.
Well, actually...
The door opens again, and a panicked-looking servant pokes his head in, capturing the full attention of my groom and his father. And then the younger guy spins and runs from the room. Heaving a heavy sigh, King Ivar turns back to me.
Forgive my son. And excuse me for a moment. We have an unexpected visitor and must deal with her. I shall return shortly. He sweeps from the room, leaving me breathless and confused.
Her? Who would dare come to Altum uninvited? I sit, but stand again after only a minute. Pacing the room, I start on my fingernails once more. What’s going on? What if they don’t come back before the ceremony? I didn’t get a chance to tell Ivar about Pappa’s plan.
Finally I peer from the room into the empty hallway. Around the corner is the ballroom and past that, the entrance to the royal dwelling. If there’s a visitor—that’s where she’d be, right?
Looking left then right, scanning the hall, I leave the room and make my way toward the front door. Indeed, my groom is visible through the open doorway. Just beyond him, I see the back of his father’s head. Crossing the distance to the door, I stand just inside, watching.
Clearly the king is engaged in a very serious conversation. Since it’s all conducted in our native language, I can’t hear it. When we communicate silently, our messages go only to the person for whom we intend them, like text messaging, rather than Facebook.
But then I do hear something—a human voice—a girl’s voice. And then my fiancé speaks—out loud. I didn’t even know he could do that. I can’t stand it any longer. I slip through the opening and go to his side, touching his shoulder.
Is everything all right? Who is this?
He tears his eyes from the human girl and gives me his attention. His gaze is wild, desperate-looking. I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her for a while. I don’t know what she’s doing here. Please go back inside, and I’ll explain later.
Darting one last glance at the pretty, sad-looking girl, I turn and go back to my small sitting room. So this is why my fiancé seems so reluctant to follow through with the ceremony. There’s someone else. A human. Is the son of the Light Elf king actually in love with her? I can’t prevent a hysterical laugh from escaping my lips. I would never have dreamed there’d be a scandal to top the one I’m about to cause.
The pounding of footsteps draws my attention to the open door, and I see the prince’s back disappear into the darkness at the far end of the corridor. Another involuntary giggle erupts. Maybe this conversation with King Ivar won’t be necessary after all. Apparently I have a runaway groom.
After another few minutes, the king returns. Forgive the interruption. My son will join us momentarily—he needs a few moments to regain his composure.
No he doesn’t, I say.
Excuse me?
He doesn’t need to go through with this. I look straight into Ivar’s eyes, hoping he’ll be able to read my utter sincerity. I don’t want to marry your son. Nothing against him or you. It’s because I don’t want to deceive either of you.
The king’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t respond, only stares, waiting for me to continue.
My father’s intentions for this marriage are not pure. He wants me to influence your son. He wants to use us both to draw your people into his scheme to enslave the humans, to bring back the old order of Elven rule and human subjugation. I look down at my feet, ashamed to have ever considered going along with the plan. I’m so sorry it’s gone this far. I don’t want to dishonor my father or your son, but I cannot go through with this.
There is no answer. Looking back up to see Ivar’s reaction, I’m shocked to see his eyes fill with tears. Finally, he responds.
Thank you for telling me this. Of course, I release you from the marriage pact. But you may not be welcome to live among your people after this. Please know you will always have a home among mine.
Thank you. But I plan to go my own way. Hesitating, I finally gather the courage to ask about his puzzling emotional reaction—I’d expected anger, not sorrow. Are you well, sir?
He nods. I’m ashamed of myself—I have a lot of work to do to repair my relationship with my son. I need to go find him. Remember what I said about your father—be careful. From what I know of him, mercy is not his first nature.
I will.
He leaves the room and strides down the corridor where my now-ex-fiancé disappeared. I emerge from the room and turn in a bewildered circle. Where to go now? What to do?
I’ll have to face Pappa eventually, so I might as well find him and get that over with. He’s probably glad-handing inside the ballroom, accepting congratulations as the father of the bride-and-future-queen. Oh, this is not going to be a pretty conversation.
Chapter Eighteen
Sighting
I grasp one of the ballroom’s double door handles, preparing to seek out Pappa and discreetly lead him to a private location where we can talk. Happy sounds drift through into the hallway—clinking glasses, lilting Fae music, and laughter. The crowd inside is ready for a good time, a celebration.
Taking one last fortifying breath, I press a clenched fist into my stomach to quell the stampede of butterflies gathering steam. I squeeze my eyelids shut and give the handle a tug. But my fingers loosen and the door softly closes again when a voice grabs my attention. A loud voice. An angry voice. It’s coming from just outside the royal residence, in the common area.
She’s still here.
Unable to resist one last peek at the girl who’s claimed the heart of the Elven prince—my former fiancé—I go to the palace’s front door and peer through the opening.
She stands in the middle of the path, halfway between my hiding place and the tunnel that leads out of Altum. She’s upset. And she’s not alone.
Her face is red, her hands clenched, as she argues with an extremely tall, dark-haired Elven guy whose back is to me. Maybe he’s a guard who’s kicking her out or something?
But no, she’s storming away, and he’s grabbing her sleeve to stop her. Interesting. There’s more heated conversation, the words of which I’m too far away to understand, and then she succeeds in pushing him away and runs toward the opening of the tunnel to the surface.
The guy stares after her, tension holding his powerful body in a state of suspended animation. Then his shoulders fall, and he slowly turns my way.
Oh my God.
By the time I see him in profile, my adrenaline is spiking to fight-or-flight levels. Could it really be him? I fling open the doors and launch myself through them.
And my entire body jerks back as if I’ve been struck by a moving vehicle. Something has snagged my dress, and I’m going down fast, but I don’t hit the ground. Powerful arms catch my fall a moment before my head impacts the stone floor.
“What have you done?” Pappa yells, yanking me upright to face him. He slams the door shut, closing out the shadowy male figure in the distance.
Pulling toward the door in desperation, I try to wrench myself away from Pappa. “I... I need to go—I need to see—”
“You’re not going anywhere until you explain to me why I’ve just been informed there will be no wedding today.”
His grip on my bare upper arms is punishing, fingertips digging into the tender flesh. Squirming in an attempt to dislodge them only makes his hold tighter.
“I can’t do it Pappa,” I cry. “It’s wrong. You’ve always warned me that bonding is forever. I can’t bond myself to someone based on a lie. Especially when he’s as opposed to it as I am.”
The veins in Pappa’s neck bulge dangerously. “You talked to him. You told him.”
“I told th
e king. I didn’t get a chance to tell his son. It’s for the best, Pappa. You’ll see.”
I hear the crack of his palm striking my cheek a split second before the stinging pain registers in my brain. Staggering backward, I stare at Pappa in shock.
“The only thing I see,” he hisses, his pointing finger shaking in the air between us. “Is a foolish girl who’s destroyed five years of my careful work in one moment of ignorant self-interest. You have no idea what you’ve done. You will regret this.”
Holding my fingers to my throbbing cheek, I respond in a voice thick with tears. “I regret disappointing you. But you’re wrong. I do know what I’ve done—the right thing. And I’m not going to just blindly follow your orders anymore. I will have my own life.”
He barks out an ugly laugh. “Yes. You are on your own. No one will help you now. No one will care about you. And no one will want you.”
“You may be right.”
He probably is, and I do want to belong somewhere to someone. But not at any cost. Swiping the wetness from my face, I turn to leave, to go back to my room and pack the few meager belongings I brought with me—which now amount to all my worldly possessions, I suppose.
Pappa’s bitter voice follows me, curling around my ears like black smoke from a trash fire. “You’ll be back, you know. Someday you’ll fall at my feet and beg me for forgiveness, beg me to take you in again.”
I shake my head, not turning back around, not even glancing over my shoulder. There’s no point in it. I know what’s behind me. My past.
And out there somewhere, far above us on the surface, where the sun shines on the humans and the Elven race alike, is my future.
Somewhere out there—perhaps not too far away—is Nox Knight. I will find him. I will determine the truth about the fate of my beloved childhood friend, my first innocent love.