Goddsdamnit, I should have said I don’t have a mate.
Vera took a sip of her own tea, the cup appearing delicate in her hands. “Safe for her or for you?”
I clutched my mug, the tea turning to ash in my mouth. “For her, of course.”
Vera clucked her tongue. “She sounds like she has her head on straight. I would take her to sea any morning.”
What kind of trouble would Maggie get up to as a pirate? “You haven’t met the witch then.”
Instead of the scowl I wanted, Vera’s face lit up in a smile. “Is hiding from your mate the usual for your kind?”
I wasn’t hiding. And we weren’t mates. I tried my proper standard response, leaning forward so she wouldn’t misunderstand me.
“Elves don’t have mates.”
Her smile only grew wider. “Oh, that’s going to work out swimmingly. And what does he have to say about that?”
I sat back, confused. “Who?”
“Your monster. The one who isn’t King.”
How did she know I could shift? I did everything not to squirm in my seat. Something wasn’t quite right about her. I didn’t expect this much sass.
“What does this have to do with the Calix, old woman? I’m not here for relationship advice.”
Vera’s face grew serious. “It has everything to do with that poor sword. How you treat a partner can show if you’re worthy.”
I bridled at that, even though we finally got to the good stuff. “I’m a King. The True King of Allfenheim. Of course I’m worthy.”
Her expression remained stone. “So? That’s just a name. You think that beautiful face gets you everything.”
“Doesn't it?”
She harrumphed and actually blushed. I couldn't believe color made it into her weathered face.
“I will tear this place apart to find it, old woman.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Try it and I will bend you over my knee.”
I tightened my grip on my mug. I didn’t have to test her theory. She’d been nothing but straightforward so far. This must have been why the usurper had to manufacture his own Calix because there was no way he earned the right to wield it. Frustration brought my Nightmare forward, blackening my eyes and lengthening my teeth. For the first time, the old woman flinched. I had to give her credit. She didn’t back down, only stood and took my mug from my claw-tipped hands, bringing it to the washbasin.
“Is this why you won’t give me the Calix?”
It had been the excuse for many of the Elven subjects to question my authority.
Her look turned to one of pity. “No, Your Highness.”
I’d had enough of this.
I stood from the table and snatched her up in my claws, partially shifting to tower above her.
“You will comply, old woman.”
Vera, placid as a cow, dangled above the floor. I expected fear, perhaps some wailing. At least for her to strike, begin a real fight. My whole body tensed for it but she just assessed me like I was a naughty child. Her faded brown eyes held no fear, just the patina of a monster who had seen everything and lived through it. I probed for nightmares in her mermaid mind and found disconcertingly little.
A thick hand settled on one of my forearms and cold trickled into my body. I tightened my grip as a threat, but Vera calmly continued to fill my lungs with seawater until I gasped without breath. I shifted, realigning my organs to rid myself of the water, but I suddenly realized Vera teemed with Old Magic. The seawater wasn’t literal. She unleashed a driving force drowning my soul.
I shifted every which way I knew how and still the water came. Its icy fingers attempted to drag me down into the nameless deep where even my darkness would be lost. Terror gripped me as I briefly let go of my form altogether and a flood of water hit the kitchen floor. My mind scrambledas I struck the floor too. I hated Old Magic. Tricky, untamed, with a will of its own, it was so elemental, it was almost impossible to counter. A dart prick of fear hit me when I looked up to see Vera holding out her hand to help me up.
