Bile turned in my stomach. I couldn’t consider failing.
Mira bid us all tearful farewells, but kept her word, and with her small entourage, raced toward the outer edges of our kingdom.
Sea fae took the stemposts of every longship. The fading isle would be in the far seas near the Ever. All I could hope for now was we were not far behind and they had not faded to unknown waters.
I stepped into a ship, looking forward, the heated fear prickling up the back of my neck.
Tonight, I faced my nightmares.
For Skadi, I could not lose myself. The fever was there, burning in my blood, trying to drag me into the pain of my own mesmer.
“I’m at your side, brother.” Sander sheathed a blade and leaned over the rail.
I swallowed through the burn in my throat. “This is why, Sander.”
“Why what?”
“Why I never settled, why I refused to fall for every sharp, beautiful piece of another’s heart.” I hesitated, fighting to steady my voice. “I have seen love and what the loss of it can do. I never wanted to risk such a thing, not when my mesmer would destroy me for it.”
“Is it not your fear any longer?”
“It is.” I drew my sword when the oarsmen shouted a call to heaveus into the current. “But I do not fear losing just any heart. What I fear now is losing hers.”
Sander straightened and reached for a rope overhead when the stempost tilted to the surface, ready to dive below. “Those fears will never become reality.”
True enough. I was getting my wife back tonight.
Chapter 50
The Mist Thief
Arion’s affinitydid not let him cross through fire and light for long distances, and he could only travel to places he had seen. The truth of it, revealed he had been watching my chamber for some time. The prince likely came to Klockglas with Cian and knew well who had slaughtered the guard.
The prince summoned light, but he could steal us away through it. Almost like the darkness of my mists, but he was not feared. No. Arion was revered by his clan.
With his arms around me, the prince forced me through a back chamber of an alehouse, to torches near an alley, then lanterns by the sea.
A ship met us at the shore. The white iron began to fade from my blood enough I could stand if I braced against Arion’s form.
I didn’t.
I let myself drop, tried to claw against the dark sandy shore, tried to scream. Only raspy sobs for Jonas escaped.
From the rowboat, three Ljosalfar warriors forced me into the vessel. Dressed in their golden armor with sleek braids keeping their smooth hair back, my mind accepted them as conspirators in this plot, and tried to be free of them as fiercely as I tried to do with Arion.
When I tried to fling myself over the rail, the warriors bound my wrists with a leather belt and Arion kept hold of it in his grip.
I glanced over my shoulder at one of the warriors. “The prince killed him. Dorsan.”
A tug on the leather on my wrists lurched me forward. Arion gripped my face. “They will not care like you think. Dorsan was Dokkalfar, not of my clan.”
“You are connected to us.” My voice was heavy from the iron. “He did not need to die. I hope it stains your soul.”
“Like I said, Skadinia, if it earns me the throne of all elven, a few stains will be worth it.”
Cruelty lived in Arion’s features. Already his heart seemed twisted with greed. There was no future with him where he did not make me his weapon.
Cold mists enveloped us when we entered the shores of Natthaven. The dark peaks and forests sparkled in lanterns from treetop folk, and the glimmer of the palace in the distance seemed so innocent, so welcoming.
