by Kara Jaynes
Eldaren arches a black eyebrow. “What about doing what’s right? What about protecting this planet from further harm? What about making sure the needs of the poor and the sick, hungry and needy are met? Does expressing your individuality cover all of these? Some things are more important than the paltry gratification of a select few.”
I blink. “This is getting a little deep for me.”
He nods once, his face smooth of feeling. “I understand. Humans don’t like to dwell on uncomfortable matters.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter.
“Another thing humans do.” A smile quirks his lips. He’s amused. “They resort to name calling when they can’t gain the upper hand in an argument.”
I’m done with this conversation. Anger webs my thoughts, and stepping forward, I snatch a book from the pile. History of Human Development. I hold my hand out, palm turned up. “On second thought, I’m rather in the mood for fairy tales right now.”
Eldaren chuckles, a sound I always find startling coming from the elves, and he passes the thick, leather-bound volume to me. “Very well. We have a handful of different fairy tales books around here. I shall find another.”
“Let me know what you think of The Glass Coffin.” It takes everything I am not to smirk. “If you find it. I think you’ll find the story rather interesting.”
“Of course.” Eldaren bows politely and leaves.
I watch him go, that same, almost overwhelming attraction coming over me. What is it? Something highly unnatural is at work here. I shake my head, trying to clear the hazy fog in my mind and, sitting on the edge of the bed, begin to read.
I flip through the book, searching for my favorites. Skipping over Cinderella, Rapunzel, and Sleeping Beauty, I read Red Riding Hood, cheering the woodcutter on at the end of the story. Too bad I don’t have a woodcutter friend to bail me out of my less than desirable situation. Or better yet, an axe. I’d bail myself out. Though I already have an inkling of how successful that would be, and the thought makes me glower.
I also read Jack and the Beanstalk, and I feel a pang of longing. I wish I were more like Jack. He’s resourceful and clever. He also managed to escape the giant. I didn’t.
The Glass Coffin makes me laugh. I wonder if Eldaren will end up reading it after all. I hope he does, though I wonder what sort of prince has time for such leisure. Then again, he doesn’t seem the lazy type to me. He is stiff and reserved, and always seems to be thinking about what he needs to do next. If he does read it, though, I foresee a rather interesting conversation ahead of me.
I bite my lip. Not that I care one way or the other. You don’t, Stella. What’s more, you shouldn’t try to even engage with him. He’s the enemy. Stars, he doesn’t even understand humans.
I need to watch for an opening in their defenses and hightail it out of here the first opportunity I get.
12
Stella
Day seven. I escape now or never. I have maybe two weeks to get out of here, but even that might be too long. Lyra will be beside herself with worry for me at this point, and with me out of the picture, Quinn may be confused, stressed, and volatile. I have to escape. Seriously, this time. Giving it all I have. Sneaking down the halls doesn’t work. And while I can open my window, there’s no pipe outside of it, and the walls are without any handholds. That doesn’t surprise me. The elves wouldn’t want me climbing out. I can't leave that way.
I rub my chin, considering my options. No hallways, and not my window. That leaves . . .
Eldaren’s room.
It’s close to mine, and I know his window will be unlocked. I escaped through his window once; why not again?
I clap my hands together, excitement, amusement, and nervousness blending together until I can’t tell the emotions apart.
Will the door to his rooms be locked? If he were human, I’d imagine so. But he’s an elf. Maybe he’s so confident in this fortress, that he doesn’t feel the need to bolt his doors.
That’s wishful thinking. He has to keep his rooms secure. At the moment, though, that’s the only option of escape that I can think of.
Breakfast has come and gone. I would try to wait until night, but I’ve always tried to flee at night. They will expect it then. Plus, Eldaren will probably be in his room by then, which will spell disaster.
I shiver. What if he’s there right now?
Shaking my head, I mentally steel myself to march to the door. If he is in there, I’ll pretend I’ve come to talk. Hopefully going into his room won’t give him the wrong idea.
Slipping into the hallway, I pad on silent feet to stand before his door. Inhaling deeply, I knock, my knuckles stinging.
No response. He must be out.
I check the doorknob, and it turns.
My breath hitches. I scurry inside and close the door behind me. A quick scan confirms that I’m alone. Good, I think. But what if he comes back?
There’s no time to waste. I go to the window, a nervous giggle escaping me when I remember again that this is the same window I’d tried to escape from my first night here.
I pull the glass pane up and stick my head out. It’s raining. Typical Liberty weather, and perfect for sneaking around in. Rain makes it harder to see, and it muffles noise. Perfect.
I slip out and grip the pipe, stifling a squeal when my hands slip on the rusty metal. I wrap my legs around it, holding on for dear life.
It doesn’t take long to reach the bottom, and I’m trembling from the fear of almost falling, and from the realization that I’d just escaped from Eldaren’s room. Again.
The prince will be furious.
I slip through the rain, taking extreme caution, hiding in corners and behind hedges. Today I'm wearing baggy trousers and a form-fitting shirt. I like dresses, but I'd be a fool to choose one to escape in. If any of the guards see me, I have no doubt they’ll try to apprehend me, or at the very least alert Eldaren. I'll have to bolt immediately if I'm spotted.
Several minutes pass. I’m shivering from the rain. Completely soaked through, I suspect my hair must be a mess.
A pair of guards stride past me and I flatten myself to the earth, barely daring to breathe. Bushes and small trees are planted all around the fortress, which gives me plenty of places for me to hide.
One of the guards pauses, his head turning in my direction. He’s too far away for me to make out his expression, and after a moment of hesitation, he moves on again.
My quiet laughter is shaky. I can see the open gates from here. I can try to make a break for it, but I doubt I can outrun the two elves standing sentry. If I scale the fence several yards down from them, though, I’ll have a chance.
Pushing up to my hands and knees, I tense, ready to spring.
Strong hands cover mine, long, pale fingers pressing them into the earth. I gasp and try to leap up, only to find resistance. My back makes solid contact with someone’s chest.
Eldaren’s chest.
I yelp and try to dart away from him, but his hands are clamped over mine, and I can’t pull them free.
“Let me go!” I squeal, thrashing in his hold.
To my surprise, the prince listens. He sits back on his heels, staring at me impassively. His dark hair hangs about his shoulders in dripping strands. He isn’t wearing a jacket, and his shirt plasters to his arms and chest in a way that makes me cough and look away. “How did you find me so soon?” I mutter.
“I saw my window was open,” Eldaren replies evenly. He pushes damp hair out of his eyes, still watching me. “Fortunately for all parties involved, I remembered some papers I needed to retrieve from my desk, and when I arrived, I found the window open, and said papers scattered all over my room. A brief survey of your bedroom confirmed my suspicions.”
“I didn’t scatter anything,” I say, irritation welling up, replacing the panic. He doesn’t seem angry. Maybe I can keep trying to escape without any real consequences. If I succeed, great, but if I don’t, perhaps it’s just a matter of start
ing over.
“Obviously. It was the wind.”
“Why do you keep me here?” I ask.
“Why do you try to escape?” Eldaren responds. A faint line creases his brow. “You have everything you could possibly want here.”
“Except freedom,” I shoot back.
The barest hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “If you behaved yourself, you could have that, too.”
I realize my arms and the front of my shirt as are covered in dirt. I attempt to brush it off, leaving streaks of mud. “What do you mean by ‘behave’?”
“I want you to put all thoughts of escape out of your mind. Remember, you were caught trespassing, past curfew and picking through our recycling, I might add, not to mention you pulled a knife on me.”
My lip curls in a sneer. “Be honest, Eldaren. You want me here because you want me.” And you’re insane. No one in their right mind wants me, not even Wilder. I remember Jonah, the pawnshop owner, and I hold back a wince. Okay, so some men found me palatable in looks, but not the sort I was interested in.
Heat rises to the prince’s high cheekbones. “The only reason you’re not in a cell is because of the Kenelky, Stella. I’d be lying if I said I lacked any concern for your well-being, but understand that you are not allowed to leave this base.”
I bite my lower lip and look away, anger curling my fingers into fists. Shoot, even soaked clean-through with mud all over his knees, he is beautiful.
“I want to understand,” he says in a lowered tone, his gaze glittering under long, dark lashes, “why you don’t want to be here. I admit I do not understand humans completely—”
“Biggest understatement of the year,” I snort.
“It is rude to interrupt,” he says, a glower darkening his face for a moment. “Why do you want to leave? I don’t know the particulars of your life, Stella, but I know whatever is out there can’t be as safe and comfortable as what you have here. What is out there?”
“What if I told you I had a boyfriend?” I ask.
Eldaren’s face contorts. “I’d tell you to take me to him this instant. I’d challenge him to a duel, and that would be that.”
I run my fingers through my hair before remembering they’re caked in mud. I need to shower. “Elves are crazy.”
“Do you have a romantic interest?” he presses.
“No,” I reply. Honest truth. I would, if Wilder had stayed. But he hadn’t.
“Good.” Eldaren continues to watch me. “But you’re not going to tell me why you want to escape.”
I shake my head and stay silent. I don't trust him enough to tell him about Quinn.
Eldaren stands, towering over me. He holds out a hand, and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. “Come. I shall escort you back to your rooms.”
13
Stella
Eldaren doesn't speak until we are standing in front of my bedroom door. He opens it. “After you.”
“I didn't invite you in,” I say, stalking past him and into my wretched chambers.
He ignores me, stepping inside anyway. He has a remarkable talent for acting deaf when it suits him. “I read The Glass Coffin,” he says.
“Did you?” I keep my head turned away, so he doesn't see my smile. “Did you like it?”
“I found it rather peculiar,” he says. “Humans have an odd idea of what makes entertainment. I am not sure why you wanted me to read it.”
“Fairy tales sometimes have an odd way of reflecting reality, that's all,” I say. Including the infuriating inability of a young woman to help herself in some situations. I'm the typical damsel in distress, however much I might wish otherwise.
Eldaren is silent for a moment, and I risk a glance. His face is still, his eyes looking elsewhere as he considers my words. “I see. You mentioned earlier that you compare me to the magician,” he says. “Which makes you the princess, and this fortress the glass coffin.”
“Bingo,” I reply. I'm surprised he caught on so fast.
“What does 'bingo’ mean?” he asks.
“It means you're correct in your assessment.”
Eldaren turns his gaze to me. “I'm not evil, Stella.”
“Yet you're keeping me here against my will.”
“That's only to keep you safe.”
“Maybe I don't want to be safe.”
“Maybe that would mean you're mentally unstable,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips. “Everyone wants to be safe. It's a natural instinct.”
I frown and cross my arms.
“That wasn't the whole story,” Eldaren continues. “A poor tailor saved the princess, and the princess’s brother killed the magician.” Eldaren studies me, his gaze intent. “Do you have a brother who wants to kill me?”
“I don't have a brother.” I lie, hoping he doesn't see the fear that ripples through me. Stars, I hadn't considered he'd analyze it that far.
“A lover?”
“I already told you,” I mutter, “I don't have a boyfriend.”
He nods, seeming to believe me. “I suppose that shouldn't surprise me.”
“And why is that?” I ask, my voice flat. “Oh, that's right, you think I'm plain.”
“No, I am not surprised because you have a rather contrary nature. You argue a lot. I imagine most men wouldn't put up with it.”
“Well, it doesn't surprise me that you don't have a girlfriend,” I snap. “You're controlling and rude.”
“Honesty isn't rude.” Amazement paints his voice, and his eyebrows rise. “Would you prefer I lie to you?”
“No,” I grumble. “But you could try to be nicer.”
“You find me cruel?” He’s really surprised now, a slight widening of the eyes, and the way he cocks his head. “It is strange you think that.”
“You don’t let me leave. I don’t even want to be here.”
“I’m keeping you safe. I have already mentioned that more than once.” His brow furrows, frustration briefly lining his pale face. “I would think you know, as well as anyone, how dangerous the streets of Liberty are. Do you want to go back? Truly?”
I hesitate. Taking Quinn and my stubborn sense of independence out of the equation, no, I didn’t want to return to my old life. Here, I wasn’t chased, whistled at, abused, damp, or cold. I was fed, I had a small library. I was—
My eyes widen. I was safe. Here, I was protected. There was the unnerving matter of the Kenelky looming over me, but Eldaren hasn’t pressed the issue. And if he doesn’t, then there isn’t a better place to be than the fortress of the space elves.
But Quinn is out there. Possibly alone, scared and hungry. Without his medicine. I have to get back to him. I have to.
Do I trust Eldaren enough with the knowledge of my brother?
I do not. Not yet. I hardly know the elf prince, and I’m not about to trust him with my secret. Quinn is more important than food, comfort, and safety.
I change the subject. “Have you read any other fairy tales?” I ask.
There. That same smile, pulling at his lips, like it wants to break free, and I get a peculiar sensation in my gut when I realize I want to see him smile, really smile. “Yes,” he says. “You mentioned a tale called Jack and the Beanstalk, so I read that one, too.”
“What did you think of it?”
“Jack is clever and resourceful,” he admits. “He thinks on his feet, and he came out the better for it. He’s a lot like you.”
I blink, taken aback by his comparison. Chuckling, I scratch my head. “I’m just like him,” I joke, “except the giant caught me.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Eldaren chides, “I have a great amount of respect for any woman or child who can survive such horrid conditions as Liberty.”
I bow with a dramatic flourish of my arms. “All in a day’s work,” I say, and that carefree smile breaks free. I stare. The prince’s smile is beautiful. The stress and worry is gone, and all that he expresses is happy amusement.
A flash of pleasure darts throu
gh me, knowing I made such an emotionless lump happy. Score one for Stella.
Eldaren is gazing at me, his smile fading. “Let Aleere know if you need anything,” he says. “I must return to my duties. Good day, Stella.”
He turns and leaves. I watch him go, an odd mixture of relief and regret swirling through me. It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t care for him, not much, but I can’t help but feel I’m somehow missing part of myself.
“Stop it, Stella,” I growl. “Don’t you dare start getting all starry-eyed. It's that stupid Kenelky thing messing with your head. Remember, he’s keeping you prisoner. That alone makes him a horrible person.”
But does it? I’m not sure anymore, and I don’t like thinking that. I am realizing elves aren’t evil so much as they just have a very different outlook on certain things. I’m starting to understand them, in some regards.
I inhale shakily as another wave of attraction washes over me. I can smell his fading scent: rain and steel, and a flash of something spicy, like cinnamon. I still don’t know what this Kenelky thing is, but I very much hope it will fade soon. I certainly am not cut out to be the prince’s consort or queen. I need to skedaddle the next opportunity I get.
Whenever that is.
14
Stella
It’s day eight, and I’m pacing my bedroom, my mind hazy with numbed panic. I’m caught like a rat in a trap. How can I get out of here? I'm not even allowed to leave my rooms now, not since my failed attempt at escape yesterday.
Eight days since I’d left Quinn. I want to swear every profanity I know, but my mom always hated what she called “curse words.” Not cursing is one way I honor her memory. I settle for wiping the tears that build on my lashes. Swearing won’t help my brother, and neither will crying.
A knock sounds on the door. I clear my throat. “Come in,” I call, even as curiosity swirls in my anxiety. Neither Aleere nor Eldaren has ever knocked when they’ve entered my rooms.