* * *
Before Alex could leave for the Outside to see Azalea, he had to meet with his dad and the Head Elf of Maplewood. He’d missed too many meetings as it was. His father was likely to explode from anger soon. He’d already given Alex a “talking to” every other day. He said he was turning into a flaky leader, and flaky leaders were the worst apparently.
They were supposed to be having tea with this man, talking about…Alex wasn’t sure what. When he entered the room, though, he found the Head Elf, Tanner Reynolds, and a young girl about his age sitting at the table, which was covered in pastries and scones and multiple pots of tea. The girl was nice enough looking with ashy blonde hair and brown eyes. The opposite of Azalea, he realized. Just this fact alone made the girl seem less attractive.
But he still smiled and sat down to wait for his father to join them.
Ha. Who’s the flaky one now, Dad?
“So sorry I’m late,” Olympus said, sweeping into the room, holding a thin, black box of some sort. “I wanted to bring Grace this. Just to try it on.”
He handed over the flat jewelry-looking case to the blonde girl—Grace. She smiled shyly up at Olympus and opened the gift. Inside rested a small crown of golden roses. “It was Alexander’s mother’s.”
Alex’s brows sunk in confusion. “Why…?” He didn’t know what else to say.
“Well, Alexander,” Olympus said as he sat at the head of the table and poured himself a cup of tea. “You and Grace have been promised to one another. You shall be bound by the end of the year.”
His heart sank, along with the rest of his organs. “Bound?”
“I have met with many of the daughters of the surrounding towns’ leaders. Grace is the best match for you.”
He said this with an underlying tone of “you’re welcome.” Alex couldn’t seem to make his eyes less wide or his mouth more closed. He knew the prince was expected to find a partner before he became king…but he didn’t know it was supposed to happen so soon. He was only eighteen. Barely out of school. Barely an adult.
Of course, his mind soared straight to Azalea. Perfect, beautiful, everything he ever needed or wanted. Suddenly, the girl sitting across from him, holding his mother’s crown, looked like a troll.
Alex stood up, backing towards the door. “No,” he said in a mystified voice. “I’m sorry. No. I can’t. I can’t do this. I won’t.”
Tanner and Grace Reynolds watched him retreat with horrified expressions. The girl looked as though this was her first ever rejection. Alex didn’t care. He had to leave. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this.
Storming from the room, Alex began to make his way through the throne room so he could leave the castle, but heavy footsteps sounded from behind him. His father.
“ALEXANDER,” Olympus bellowed. “STOP. NOW.”
It wasn’t the first time his father had yelled at him. But his voice had never quite reached that decibel, and, looking back, Alex saw the vein in Olympus’s forehead bulging. He didn’t want to be responsible for his father’s stroke. So he stopped. Reluctantly.
“I am no stranger to suffering under the sweltering heat of your embarrassment,” he began hotly. “But I’d say that tops them all. The meeting in there was not an option. Being bound to Grace is not an option. Being king is not an option. Tradition is the most important thing elves have, Alexander. It. Is not. An option.”
Alex felt years of stifled resentment come bubbling up. He was sure his face was the color of his hair now. He didn’t care.
“Yeah? Well, how is this for an option, Dad? I’m leaving.”
This brought Olympus up short. “There is nowhere in the Underground that will take a prince who’s willingly left his throne.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere in the Underground. I’m leaving the Underground.”
“Don’t tell me you’re on another Outside kick, Alexander. Honestly. This is becoming ridiculous.”
“It’s not a kick. It’s where I belong.”
Olympus’s eyes rolled upwards. “For the love of—”
“Let’s face it, Dad. I would be a terrible king. I hate it. I hate the meetings, I hate wearing the fancy clothes and the stupid crowns and making polite conversation with people I don’t know. I don’t want to be king. I am abdicating the throne. I refuse to rule the elves of the Underground. They deserve someone who can do it right.”
“Son,” Olympus said, speaking as if Alex were merely a child throwing an embarrassing tantrum. “You don’t learn how to be King overnight. It will take—”
“I’ve been training to be king since I was born!” he shouted. Of course his father wouldn’t take him seriously. He never did. “And it’s taken me eighteen years to realize the reason I’m so lousy at speaking and keeping royal secrets is because I have no desire to do well. I have no desire to do what you do, Dad. I have no desire to marry that Grace girl. I love someone else.”
This, of all things, made Olympus’s head bob back in surprise. “If this is about Grace, I’m sure we can make other arrangements. If you’ve found another elf who I find worthy of—”
“You aren’t getting it,” Alex said in a subdued tone now. Grace and her father were watching them from the doorway of the tearoom, looking livid. “The girl I love isn’t from the Underground. She lives in the Outside.”
“Elves who choose to live in the Outside are a bunch of—”
“She’s not an elf. She’s…human.”
Darkness filled Olympus’s eyes now. Until this point, he hadn’t been taking Alex seriously. He clearly thought his son was throwing a sad little princely fit. And then he’d get over it, and they could go back in the room for tea, apologizing profusely to the Head Elf of Maplewood. But now…it seemed Olympus was truly seeing Alex for the first time.
Slowly, Olympus raised his arm and pointed at the doorway. “Get out,” he said darkly. “Get out of my kingdom.”
Even though Alex had planned to leave, the words still stung him. But he didn’t let it show. He raised his head and walked out of the throne room. And he didn’t look back.
18
Don’t Talk to Strangers
The elves had no idea Vyra was the one responsible for all the little elf kids’ deaths. The Atrums didn’t know either.
But Vyra was running out of dolls.
Her mother was a few more weeks along with her pregnancy now, and when Vyra saw her changing clothes, she noticed a small pooch at the bottom of her stomach where the new baby was growing. She hadn’t been joking when she told her mom the Warriors would kill it. They killed anything with Atrum blood. And, if they continued to cower within the rocks of Bluff Bastion, the Warriors would grow bored of waiting. And they’d come.
So, Vyra had to make sure no more babies grew up to be Warriors.
The woods were thick around the town of Arbor Falls. After her attack on the blond girl with curly pigtails, the little elf school had stopped bringing the kids outside to play. But not all parents, especially Warrior parents, kept a close eye on their children. And it wasn’t difficult for Vyra to hear the squealing laugh of an unattended weakling.
Her dark hair and dark clothes blended in with the bark of the surrounding trees as Vyra flitted around the trunk of a tree home she knew held a family of Warriors. Both the mom and dad wore their armor. And they had a little boy, who she was sure they hoped would someday carry on their evil, violent legacy. She could hear them laughing in the kitchen.
Peeking through the cracks of the fence of foliage, she could see him building a tower of sticks from the branches of the nearby tree. He had tan skin and beetle-black eyes. He could be as evil as her if he wanted to someday. He already looked it.
“Psst.”
His dark eyes flashed to the spot where Vyra stood. “Who’s there?” he said, picking up a sheath of arrows and a small bow. It made Vyra hate him more.
“It’s just me silly,” Vyra said with a lilting giggle. “What are you going to do, shoot me?”
<
br /> “Who are you?” he asked in a guarded voice.
“I just want to play.”
He strung an arrow through the bow in his hand. “My parents said not to play with strangers.”
Vyra’s eyes rolled. “Do you always do what your parents tell you?”
“Yes.” He raised his bow.
“That’s not very brave of you.”
“Go away,” he said. “Or I’ll shoot you.”
Vyra stepped out of the shadow of the tree now, fixing the boy with a patronizing glare. “You’d shoot a little girl? Is that what Warriors are teaching their babies to do?”
His eyes narrowed when he saw her and then flew wide. “You’re an Atrum,” he whispered.
He let the arrow fly in her direction. She leaped aside, but not quite fast enough. The point embedded deep in her thigh. Letting out a cry of rage as she ripped the arrow from her skin, she pointed her hand at the boy and sent a spark of electricity to shatter over him.
Not many kids her age had their powers yet. She was an exception. An anomaly. She was powerful. All he had were arrows.
It took ten seconds to kill the boy. He shouted and cried for a bit and then was silent. Vyra could hear the banging of doors and screams coming from inside the boy’s house. His Warrior parents would be there soon. And they would kill her.
As she flitted away, running on her bleeding leg, she felt the gaze of the two Warrior parents land on her. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she shot them a spiteful glance over her shoulder. The mother wasn’t looking, collapsed beside the body of her son.
But the father was. Hatred and anger filled his face as he began to thunder towards her. Vyra slipped through the trees and leapt onto her unicorn, disappearing into the air and leaving the cries of the broken family in her wake.
19
Rain, Rain, Come Again
Azalea kept the doubts and fears brewing inside her hidden from the rest of the group as they traveled one last time to Blarney. Zariah had called Wesley and asked oh-so-sweetly if she could bring a few friends to dinner with her. He’d enthusiastically agreed, and his mom promised to have a feast prepared for all of them.
Wesley told Zariah he was excited for her to meet his sisters. He didn’t say anything about Alex.
Azalea’s bottom lip was raw by the time they reached the Kings’ home because she’d clamped down on it the entire car ride. Why had Alex lied about Wesley being his brother? Was he embarrassed by where he actually lived? Was he married with a kid and a dog and a mortgage? Was he really a criminal looking to kidnap naive American girls like herself?
She shook her head, trying to clear it. She felt like she knew Alex. They’d only been around each other for a few weeks, but she knew him. She knew he loved autumn more than any other season. He loved it because it wasn’t too hot or too cold and the leaves turned his favorite color—orange. She knew, if he ever had a son, he’d want to name him Luke, and that playing music made him happier than anything else in the entire world. She knew he was kind and gentle and funny and sometimes shy. She knew his eyes shined when he looked at her and that he kissed better than anyone she’d ever kissed. Times a thousand.
But was that enough? Were those important enough things? Or were they lies too?
“You okay, Zay?” Zariah asked as they climbed out of the cab and made their way to the Kings’ front door. “You seem down.”
“Just sad that this is probably the last time we’ll be here,” Azalea said. It was partly true.
“I’m sure Alex will show up,” Zariah added, knowing the real reason for Azalea’s melancholy frown. “Wesley said he usually does.”
Did he say why Alex would pretend to be his brother? Azalea thought miserably.
Ms. King greeted them with warm hugs that smelled like cinnamon. Wesley kissed Zariah on the cheek and pulled her in the house, immediately introducing everyone to his twin sisters, Eleanor and Fern. They were identical and looked like younger versions of their mom. They had wild brown curls like Ms. King, like Wesley. Not like Alex.
Azalea wondered why she'd never asked him why he looked so different from his supposed family. Red hair was usually a dominant trait, wasn’t it?
Wesley took over the conversation at the dinner table, telling the group stories about his sisters, who threw rolls at him and called him a gobshite. Joe, Shayn—who decided to come despite the lack of hot brothers—and Zariah laughed and cleaned their plates. Azalea pushed her peas into her potatoes and looked out the window.
It was starting to rain. It did that a lot in Ireland, on and off. But, right now, it seemed rather fitting. She felt like crying.
Eleanor and Fern insisted on teaching the American students some card games before they left, so they retired to the living room, sitting around the coffee table. With the amount of alcohol they brought in there, though, Azalea figured it would soon turn into drinking games.
“Alright, Azalea?” Wesley asked her as Zariah and Joe helped Ms. King carry plates into the kitchen before joining the twins to play cards.
“Yeah…” she began, then changed her mind. “Actually, no.”
“Yeah? Can I help?”
“Maybe,” she said, biting her lip and looking out the window again. “It’s about Alex.”
She noticed something cross quickly over his features. Like he knew something she didn’t, but wasn’t sure if he should say.
“He’s been lying to me,” she said.
“Oh?” He didn’t sound surprised. “What about?”
“Who he is… I don’t know what else.”
Wesley nodded, crossing his arms, and looking down. “I see.”
“Wesley,” Azalea said earnestly. “If you know something I don’t, please tell me. I don’t want to be the stupid American girl who falls for the lying Irish boy.”
“Falls?” Wesley said, looking up quickly. “You love him?”
Azalea bit her bottom lip for the billionth time that day before nodding.
Running a hand through his hair, Wesley looked out the window, as if he was trying to make up his mind about something.
“Please,” Azalea said in a small voice. “Tell me.”
Letting out a quick breath, Wesley said, “Okay. I’m going to take you somewhere. It’s where Alex goes every night. That’s all I’m going to say. He should be coming through any minute now. He will have to tell you the rest.”
“The rest of what? Where are we going?”
“Blarney Castle,” Wesley said. “Get your coat.”
20
Liar, Liar
The only thing keeping Alex moving forward, up the path to the waterfall, was the promise that he’d get to see Azalea soon. He needed her more than he needed air right now. His father’s words rattled around like shards of glass in his head.
Get out. Get out of my kingdom.
He was leaving willingly yet he felt like he was being banished. This wasn’t how he’d pictured it. Not at all. He’d actually had a dream of telling his father about Azalea. And, unlike what actually happened, Olympus beamed with pride in the dream. He said he understood and wanted to meet her. Alex had asked him what they would do about the kingdom, and he said he’d already spoken with John about taking the throne. It all worked out. But that was a dream. Sometimes reality is the real nightmare.
Reaching the waterfall boundary, he took one last look over his shoulder at the home he was choosing to leave, in favor of the home he’d found. Azalea had taught him no one place was home. As long as she was with him, he’d go anywhere. She was his home.
His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned, but he turned away from the view of Arbor Falls. Then he stepped through the waterfall.
* * *
Wesley led Azalea through a tunnel in Blarney Castle. She didn’t understand why Alex would be at the end of it unless he was homeless and slept there. But he was always so clean, so that didn’t make any sense. Then they reached the end. She moved the flashlight in her hand from the ground to the top,
throwing light over dirt and rocks.
“There’s nothing here,” she’d muttered, disappointed.
“There is,” Wesley assured her.
He pressed his hand against the wall of the tunnel. Nothing happened at first, and then it shuddered and crumbled away. Azalea screamed and threw her arms over her head, expecting the old castle to crush her. But it didn’t. Blinking, she looked up to see a vast forest filled with trees the size of sequoias.
Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she noted the tunnel out of which they’d just walked was inside one of the trees.
“How is this possible?” she whispered.
“Alex will explain everything,” Wesley said. “Come on.”
She wanted to ask more questions. A lot more questions. But Wesley was already several paces ahead of her, so she scuttled after him. He led her under a natural-made arch of branches and into a clearing where a breathtaking waterfall spilled into a still lake. It looked more like a mirror than a sheet of water.
“Here,” Wesley said, waving a hand. “Wait here. He will come.”
Azalea looked at him with wide eyes. “Why will he come here, Wesley? What is this place?”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s where we come from.”
Then he left.
A shiver ran up Azalea's arms, though it wasn’t particularly cold, and she moved to a fallen log, sitting down to wait.
It wasn’t long before Alex appeared, walking through the sheet of water without getting wet. Azalea couldn’t help herself; she stood up when she saw him, momentarily forgetting she was here to confront him for lying. She took a few steps forward and stopped in her tracks.
Something was different about him. Physically different. His skin glowed ever so slightly from the inside out, his ears moved up into a smooth point. He looked beautiful.
Elven.
“Alex?” she whispered.
Alex and Azalea_Prequel to the Underground Series Page 7