by Elise Kova
While Eldas didn’t seem too worried about Aria, I can’t help but think she might be up to something… No, that’s just my fear surrounding the horned man coloring my opinions of her.
I push the thoughts away. Harrow is just another reason why I’m glad to not be a part of that family. I’m leaving in two months and counting.
“Thank you for letting me know. What time should I be ready by?”
“Eldas expects you at eight.”
“Oh good, I can get a full day in the laboratory then, and still have time to change.”
“Would you like me to help you get ready this evening?”
I think about taking her up on the offer. There are definitely dresses that I can’t reach all the clasps of by myself. “No, thank you,” I ultimately decide. If Eldas is going to get to know me, he should get to know the real me—not whatever hairstyle or dress Rinni thinks is appropriate.
“Then I will return at seven forty-five.” Rinni gives a bow and leaves.
The day is an odd mix of too long and too short. The hours seem to drag on while I’m in the laboratory. Every time I look at the grandfather clock, I’m certain half the day has passed and it’s been five minutes.
I can hardly concentrate.
But all too soon, I’m back in my room and Rinni is knocking once more.
“Enter,” I call.
She appears at my bathroom door. “You chose that to wear?”
“It’s non-negotiable,” I declare. “He meets with me in this or he doesn’t meet me at all.”
“Very well.” Rinni has the ghost of a grin as she leads me away. Luckily she doesn’t comment on Hook following. He’s become my shadow in the castle since I’m much more at ease with him around. At this point, getting to know me involves getting to know Hook.
We cross through the throne room to get to the East Wing. I assume it was a more direct path than going down to the main atrium. Rinni leads me through the door Eldas usually disappears into. She traverses silent halls, cramped with intricate suits of armor, pointed stones on pedestals, tapestries, and portraits. There’s less open space here than in the West Wing. Less ballrooms, dining rooms, rooms for the sake of having rooms. They’re replaced by spiraling staircases and an infinite amount of doors that block my prying eyes.
Finally, we reach our destination, a door that looks much like any other. Rinni gives a soft knock.
“Your Majesty,” she says. “Your queen is here to join you.”
Chapter 22
I freeze slightly at the words, “your queen.” I worry the labradorite ring around my finger, suddenly aware of its presence once more. I don’t want to be anyone’s. I don’t want to be owned. I nearly break out running, but manage to keep myself in place.
A sense of ownership is not what those words were intended to imply. I came here of my own volition. I wanted this to see if the kind man I’ve caught glimpses of is truly there. If he can trust me. If maybe our partnership can shore up its footing so that we might actually manage to get Midscape out of the bind it’s in. I’m not here out of obligation, or fear, or because he commanded me to be.
“Send her in.” The bass of Eldas’s voice resonates right through me.
The door swings out into the hall and Rinni steps to the side. I enter and try to walk tall, one hand buried in Hook’s fur for strength. As the door clicks behind me, the hornets win over the butterflies in my stomach and I press my lips together, trying not to let nervous words buzz out.
Eldas stands before a great hearth. There’s a table between us that looks like it could comfortably seat four but is set for two. Food glistens in the low light—roasted meat, trays of vegetables, and some kind of round, iced cake with what I hope aren’t actual butterfly wings decorating the top.
I can only inspect the food so much before my eyes wander to the man I’m actually here to see. Eldas is wearing a tufted tunic the color of midnight. Tiny pearl buttons are sewn at the center of Xs across his breast and give the appearance of scattered stars. His complexion is in contrast with his dark clothes, making him look like a king of starlight, rather than death.
“Is the crown really necessary?” I blurt, completely disarmed by his mere appearance. It almost looks like he made an effort for me.
“Excuse me?” Surprise disrupts his schooled expression and his hand flies to the dark line of iron on his head. Eldas drops his hand suddenly, as if embarrassed by the motion. “I am a king, why would I not wear my crown?”
“Because it’s just me you’re meeting with.”
“All the more reason. I am your king. Why would I not look the part?”
Your king. The words rumble in contrast to “your queen.” If I am his queen, does that mean he is my king? Is it, rather than him owning me, that we own each other? We share each other?
For the first time, I wish I spent a little more time on all this relationship and romance business at the academy, rather than being singularly focused on herbology. Maybe I would be less awkward and less inclined to over-think everything.
“I…” Words fail me. Instead, I walk over to him and feel his eyes trail over me with every step. Hook waits behind, as if he somehow knows I need to do this on my own. “I came here as myself, as Luella.” I hold out my hands and let him look at the high-waisted skirt and billowing top I chose—simple fabrics, simple designs, what I would wear back in Capton. “I was hoping that I might—”
I reach up and he flinches away. I hold out my hands and wait. Eldas settles and allows my fingers to curl around his crown. It’s heavier than I expected, so heavy I wonder how he holds his head up at all.
“—meet with Eldas, and not the Elf King.” I set the crown down on the mantle, grateful I didn’t drop it.
“The Elf King is who and what I am. There is nothing else.”
Those words mirror things I’ve said many times before. He didn’t intend for them to wound, and yet they do. Internal tremors try to knock my bones together. Nerves are attempting to get the better of me because I have never felt more vulnerable.
For the first time, I realize the clothes, the crown, that horrible, echoing throne room…they’re all different forms of armor for him. They shield him from anyone seeing whoever the man is without them. And, now, I’m all the more curious about who that man actually is.
“I understand,” I whisper.
“You don’t.” He looks back to the fire as if he can’t handle my scrutiny. As if he knows the realization I’ve made.
“I do,” I insist. “Because I had my own armor. I had my shop, my job, my duty. I had it keep me from everything because if I put myself out there for a moment then maybe I could be hurt—maybe I could lose control.”
His eyes flicker back to me. The fire cracks and a log falls.
“Little good that did me,” I murmur. Even trying to protect myself, Luke dealt a near mortal blow to my heart. His gaze softens further. “So I’m not going to retreat. Well, I’m trying not to. I want to get to know you, Eldas.”
“Why?” He seems shocked someone would.
“What kind of a question is that?” I laugh breezily. Yet his tense shoulders indicate it was genuine. “I’m technically your wife.”
“Only a formality… And I forced you to take those oaths.” He brings a crystal cut glass to his lips. It barely hides a grimace. “I am sorry for my actions in the temple at Capton. I should have apologized earlier.”
A sincere and unprompted apology? I barely refrain from letting out a shocked gasp. Progress, this is real progress.
“Thank you for your apology.” I purse my lips. Part of me doesn’t want to forgive him. Yet… “Honestly, without your help, I probably would have puked on your shoes.”
Now he doesn’t hide the grimace. “Maybe I am less sorry.”
I laugh lightly. It’s a fragile sound to pair with our delicate explorations. “What’re you having?”
“This?” He swirls the glass. Ice clanks. “It’s faerie mead. It was sent with th
eir king’s apologies for the incident in Quinnar.”
“May I try some?” There’s a narrow bar with an additional glass set out and a bottle of liquid the same color as what’s in Eldas’s glass.
“I didn’t think you would want to since it’s of fae make. I only opened it because it’s strong and because tonight…I needed some strength.”
“You needed strength around me?” I lift my eyebrows.
“You are perhaps the one thing in Midscape I find terrifying.”
I chuckle as I help myself to some liquor. As I pour, Hook takes my spot at the fireside. Wolf and man regard each other warily as I return and hold my glass out to Eldas, distracting him from Hook.
“To strength, tonight.”
He stares at my gesture long enough that I’m uncomfortable.
“Do you toast here?”
“We do.” For the first time, his chilly gaze seems inviting. His eyes are cool, but like a brisk winter morning that you’re ready to greet. Eldas lifts his glass. “To this world. To the next. To the people we meet between and the bonds we share.” He lightly clanks his glass against mine and drinks. I do the same.
“Is that an elvish toast?” I ask.
“It is.”
“It’s lovely.”
He doesn’t seem to know how to respond to the compliment so he deflects instead. “I see the beast is still insistent on roaming my castle.”
“Hook,” I correct gently. “Yes, he still stays with me.”
“You must return to the Fade eventually,” Eldas scolds lightly. Yet, despite his tone, he leans forward and reaches for Hook. The wolf tenses but permits Eldas to gently scratch him between the ears.
“He goes back and forth as he needs. Sometimes he runs off of his own accord, but he always comes back. And he’s a good companion whenever he’s here.” I don’t want to think about Hook leaving me for good, as Eldas’s tone implies.
“Good. This castle can be lonely.” Eldas purses his lips slightly, as if that were something he hadn’t intended to say.
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
“As much as you would.” Eldas turns the sentiment back on me and I’m silenced. We take long sips of mead.
“Did you really stay locked away here while you were waiting for me?” The question comes out weakly. I’m afraid of the answer.
“Rinni told you, didn’t she?” He doesn’t look at me when he says it. I doubt he likes feeling vulnerable. But I’m not going to apologize for taking an interest in his wellbeing.
“She did. Don’t be cross with her.”
“You continue to tell me who I can and cannot be cross with.” Eldas glances at me from the corner of his eye. I can almost see him fighting a smirk and that brings a smile to my lips.
“Consider my advice like any other counsel: recommendations.” I take another sip as the conversation lulls. I wait. Nothing. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I did continue to sequester myself. I wanted to present myself to the world at the same time as my queen but…” He runs a hand over his hair and shakes his head. “Nothing is going according to plan. Then there was you…and your nature shredded the last notion of my carefully concocted designs. You really are nothing like I expected.” Before I can remark on the almost tender sentiment, he turns to the table. “Shall we eat?”
“Very well.” I am quick to abandon what Eldas expected of me. I’m almost afraid of what I might find is the answer. No…not that…I’m afraid of discovering what I hope is the answer—I’m nothing like he expected in a way he might be enjoying. A feeling that’s dangerously mutual. “Did you cook all this?”
He scrunches his nose in disgust. “Of course not. I have someone who does that.”
“Yet the castle seems so empty.” I take my seat, and he takes his. “I’ve wondered who does all the cooking.”
“There are inner passages. Think of them like a castle within a castle. The servants operate there. Very few can be seen on this side.” He pauses, eyes flicking to mine. “Magic helps as well.”
“Magic helps,” I repeat with a laugh. “I suppose it would.”
“Well, I know you cannot summon a rack of lamb with a thought in your world.”
“Can you—”
Before I can finish, Eldas lifts his hand, motioning to the corner of the room. A blue mist collects on his fingers, mirroring a small cloud in the corner. With a blustery burst, it condenses into—sure enough—a rack of lamb.
“Enjoy, Hook.” Eldas leans back in his chair, swirls his glass, and takes a swig. When he catches my stare he bursts out in laughter. “You didn’t think I could.”
“How?”
“I learned the true name of that rack of lamb, and I can create duplicates of it.”
As he speaks, Hook gnaws on the offering.
I have a thousand questions, but all I can muster saying is, “You must really like lamb.”
Eldas blurts out laughter and quickly covers his mouth with a hand. His embarrassed expression leads to my own outburst. Suddenly, we’re laughing together.
“How have there ever been any food issues in Midscape if that can be done?”
“Only elves can do it, and very few among us possess the skill. And that food is not nearly as nourishing as something natural—something real.” He stares at me over the top of his glass as he takes a swig. Something about the muscles in his throat contracting is oddly entrancing.
I quickly return to my food, changing the topic to learn more about the upcoming springtime rites. Eldas is eager to tell me, especially about his part in them. He lingers on his duties as the Elf King—how he opens and closes the ceremonies, how he is seen as presenting the queen as the bringer of spring. I can’t help but smile as he goes on and on.
He’s genuinely excited to be king, to finally rule. And yet…we’re working on ending the cycle. I will not be here to see these springtime rites. I will not be presented.
As we talk, we help ourselves to the spread. Eldas is a proper gentleman, almost to the point that I’m uncomfortable. He makes it a point to see my drink is refilled whenever it’s low—which is often, since the mead is sweet and effervescent. He serves me when I express interest in trying something.
As we tuck in, I’m not surprised to find everything is delicious. The food in Midscape is its own sort of magic. All the flavors seem brighter, more unique and rich. Had I truly tasted anything before coming here?
“I hear you’re helping in the greenhouse.” Eldas makes an attempt at small talk.
“Willow has been good to me.” I instantly rise to his defense, even though there was nothing in Eldas’s tone that would suggest I couldn’t be assisting. “Not only has he let me help with the plants, but he’s given me access to the past queens’ journals and taught me more about elf magic.”
He tilts his head slightly when I bring up the journals. “Yes, I’ve heard you’ve made the place your own. Even to the point that rumor of the queen’s ability to heal ailments has spread through town.”
“I’m sure I’m not the first queen to do so.” I think back to the small poultice I crafted for the cabinetmaker.
“Queens do not have an interest in meeting with the common folk of Quinnar, or common folk in general.”
I snort at the remark.
Eldas sets down his fork and arches his eyebrows. “Did I say something amusing?”
“It’s not that queens don’t have an interest, but they haven’t been allowed to have an interest.”
“That is untrue.”
“Oh?” I grin. The expression slips across my flushed cheeks a little too easily. What number glass of mead is this? “Perhaps you should read some of the past queens’ journals. You may find their lives enlightening. If you’re making an effort to get to know me, then you could do the same with them.”
“I made an effort with Alice.”
“Did you really?” I grin, but abandon the expression when his tone becomes unexpectedly thoughtful.
He hesitates, voice suddenly heavy and sad. “She… She was a kind woman.”
“I have her journal, if you’d like to read it,” I say gently.
He stills and an almost child-like excitement flashes in his eyes. “I’d like that very much.”
“I’ll lend it to you; I’m finished with it.”
“That’d be very kind of you.”
“I want to be kind to you.”
Eldas busies his mouth with a long sip of his liquor and then focuses on the food still on his plate. Perhaps it’s just the firelight. But I think I see the faintest of flushes on his cheeks. I yield, turning back to my own food.
“You’re right,” he says without looking up from his plate. It’s good because he won’t see my surprise. I’m right? “I have never taken the time to properly enlighten myself on the past queens beyond Alice, and that is something that I should remedy if I am to be an effective king both to you, and to my future heir.”
He’s still operating under the assumption that I will be here longer than two more months. I barely refrain from pointing out the fact. Tonight has been cordial and there’s something that makes me sad about the thought of leaving right now.
No sadness that a bit more mead can’t fix.
“I’ll recommend passages to you beyond Alice, then,” I say, finally. “Some on the life of the queens. And some about interesting tidbits surrounding their magic that I’ve discovered that may help us end this cycle.”
“You still think you can remove the need for a Human Queen?”
“My plan hasn’t changed.”
Eldas stands and moves over to the fireplace again. He leans against the mantle, his towering form striking a dark line against the firelight. I scratch Hook behind the ears, watching—no, admiring him.
The light hits his cheekbones in just the right way that it makes them sit even higher. His eyes are highlighted, hauntingly beautiful. And the hidden rainbows of his raven hair have never been more noticeable.