Servants brought out steaming dishes of cooked bird, jellies, and leafy green salads covered in pears and cream.
“I ordered something I knew you humans liked to eat,” Aldaar said proudly as he took his first bite. “A partridge, but I didn’t think a pear tree would be good to eat, so we just have pears.”
I smiled at the kind gesture, confused. “Yes, that is a reference to one of our old folksongs. How do you know of it?”
“I read it in a book somewhere. About the twelve days of Christmas.” Aldaar popped another piece of partridge in his mouth. “Some of the days are quite strange.”
“They sure are.” I tucked an errant strand of brown curls behind my ear. I didn’t know what the elves thought of Christmas. I’d always heard they hated the holiday, that it was best not to mention it in front of them. So, I didn’t press the matter any further. I avoided the king’s gaze at all costs, though he seemed intent to burn me with it from afar.
“This Christmas is such a strange obsession with the humans.” The Elf King whirled his spoon. “I’ve often wondered why it is so beloved.”
I kept my eyes down and my mouth shut, feeling the eyes of the two males on me. He hadn’t asked a question, so I took another bite of the delicious pears and cream and pretended not to be there.
“Yes, please, Noelle,” Aldaar cooed. “Why the jingle bells and sleigh rides and walnuts roasting by a campfire and stuff?”
I smiled at sweet Aldaar matching the king’s fond smile. His cold eyes even seemed to twinkle and warm. So much like my affection for Daisy in that tender glance.
“Christmas is…” I started.
“Christmas is a foolish human holiday where they worship a large frumpy man who jumps from house to house delivering sweeties.” The Elf King smiled to himself in an infuriatingly smug way.
“NobodyworshipsFather Christmas.” I huffed. “He’s a myth, a legend. One that we are quite fond of.”
“He sounds wonderful,” Aldaar said dreamily. “I love sweeties.”
“He is a symbol of good will. Of good tidings and peace to all mankind.” I finished.
“And what of our kind?” The Elf King’s eyes pinned me to the spot. “Do we elves deserve your good will or are we nothing to this Christmas?”
“Of course—” I started. Aldaar deserved all the good will and peace, but this king who stole me away from my family? The elf who watched my father die right before his eyes without a single spark of empathy? Without even trying to use his magic? Did they deserve it? Anger filled me. No, they did not.
“Do you think human lives are of more worth than the lives of elves?” the king asked forcefully.
I reeled. “You stole me away from my little sister, my mother. You felt you had a right to do so.” I twisted the napkin in my lap. “All to makeyoulittle sweeties, and then you reject them. What does that say of you?”
The King’s gold eyes narrowed. “It says that I am your king, and you must do as I command.”
I stood from the table, anger rushing through me as surely as a storm. “You have your little brother to dote upon. But what of my sister? She is not yet four years old. I will be a strange memory for her from now on, thanks to you and your insufferable pride. And for what? Some kind of supposed magic that I do not possess? You are a petty, selfish tyrant and I will play no part in your twisted games.”
I pushed back from the table in one swift motion, not quite understanding what I was doing. The fury poured from me like boiling soup from a ladle, and I wanted to say more. To scream, to fight with the Elf King, yet Rafia’s strange warnings held me back.
Instead, I turned from him, from his surprised brother and ran from the dining hall as fast as my shoes could carry me.
Which wasn’t far. I kicked off those terrible dainty devices as I ran. I passed by room after room, makeup and tears running down my face as I cried. My bare feet followed a path I did notknow, and before too long, I found myself in the cool embrace of the gilded palace gardens.
I ran out into the dark night, my breath a cloud. Thorns from rose bushes tore at my dress, but still I ran on. How dare he insinuate that I cared for humans more than elves when he so clearly felt the other way around? Hypocrite. Monster.
Hot air puffed before me as I choked back the tears. I followed one unknown path after another. Gemstone lanterns fuzzed in my sight. The air smelled of freesia and frost. Chirping crickets and barking frogs sounded from all directions in a magical choir.
This place was so beautiful, enchanting, yet—wrong. Its cold beauty held no comfort for me.
I fell onto a cold wooden bench and growled in frustration, tears streaming from my face.
How could the Elf King be so cold? What did he want from me?
I pounded my fists on the bench, which broke up the sounds of the night enough for me to realize—they’d all gone silent. Where were the humming of frogs and singing of the night insects? It was as if I had a ball of cotton stuffed in my ears.
That was when I felt it; a tingle down my spine. The eyes of someone watching me, hunting me. I strained for the trace of any sound, for the sight of anyone, when a low growl ground out between the ear-splitting silence.
