Prologue
BATTLE COSTS
Her grandfather madethe announcement with a touch of glee: by week’s end, the princess would have a husband.
Her vows would be given to a prince from realms of curious magics who stood on opposite sides of a battle between fae and elven.
An advantageous match was always meant to be her fate. Still, the elven princess did not anticipate her future husband to be a man she faced on a battlefield. He was a man whose family was nearly destroyed by her magical affinity.
In truth, the princess knew this was no match of convenience—this was done for revenge.
For the damage caused by her people, the princess would serve as the sacrifice for all the transgressions of elven folk.
Her husband, his people, and those he loved, would all be protected from the wicked magic she kept inside once he claimed her as his wife. She would never be permitted to harm them. No laws of this alliance demanded her future husband do the same.
Cruelty, hatred, and anger were all she expected from her new household.
But what the princess never expected was the touch of an enemythawing the ice in her heart, a kingdom of cutthroats becoming home, and a prince of nightmares loving the monster in the mists.
Chapter 1
The Mist Thief
Beingon the losing side of a battle was shit.
Victors always chose the reparation prizes, and they were wretched, in my limited experience. Prizes like unwitting brides to vicious princes with a score to settle.
I blew out a long breath. Some of the elven plum wine I kept tipping over my lips churned in my belly. One palm braced against a stone wall, I waited for it to settle before continuing down the dark, cobbled path. With the moon half-hidden by soupy clouds, now was my only chance at freedom.
When fae armies attacked the isle of the shadow elven—my folk—there’d been no choice but to raise a blade. Now, my life had been purchased for glory and a bit of petty revenge.
By tomorrow’s sunset, I would have a husband.
I was already drunk enough that the thought now brought out despondent chuckles more than hidden tears in the night.
What a tale I would recite to the littles someday—for there was no doubt heirs would be part of this damning alliance—bright-eyed young ones looking up at me as I told them the romantic tale of the day their father came for me.
Maj, tell me your love story.
Ah, little one, let me tell you how your father whisked me away into the sunset, complete with shackles and promises of blissful hate for the rest of our days.
I snorted and took another foolish sip of wine before tossing the small vial into the dark leaves of a briar shrub, then pulled the woolen hood over the starlight silver of my braids.
My future husband was taking me as a wife for no reason save my former betrothed was the prince of the Ljosalfar, the light elven clan. Prince Arion was the one who raised battle against the sea fae—allies to my future husband.
All I could puzzle through was since Arion fled after the battles, it meant I became the next best target for enemies to exact revenge.
Heated frustration boiled in my veins. I nearly stumbled when I tried to kick at a pebble in the soil, wine still heady in my skull.
My crimes in all this were being wholly naive and not seeing Arion’s moves before he made them. But I was dangerous in my own right.
Arion desired me as his wife for the same reasons as the fae—to use the darkness in my blood as his blade. Doubtless, my future husband would claim my affinity for himself after he’d broken me.
My affinity—the magic the gods saw fit to curse me with—was too unstable, too treacherous, to be left untethered. But to bind me through vows would create an unbreakable bond with my new kin.
There was a long-standing belief in our lore that elven could not bring harm to their kin without marking their souls in darkness.
I wasn’t certain I believed it anymore. Seemed like there was plenty of kin-harming going around as of late.
