My head snapped up. Arion filled the doorway, his narrow jaw pulsed in frustration.
I bared my teeth. “Get out.”
“It is my room.”
“My palace.”
“Hmm. We’ll see. We will be fading soon. A few of the Dokkalfarguards have offered to help pull the isle away. It would be better if you agreed to save time and do it yourself.”
“It would be better if you slit your throat. Save you some pain for when he finds you. Or perhaps, I’ll get the honor of killing you first.”
Arion frowned. “Still think your alver prince is coming for you? Don’t be a fool. We will make a new alliance to ease worries, divide lands, give them plenty of coin, maybe even a few elven consorts to replace you in his bed. He’ll be appeased.”
“Do you actually believe the words that come out of your mouth?”
Arion gripped my hair and wrenched my head back. “You have the tendency to think folk care for you more than they do. I tried to show you, tried to prove you would never be seen as anything but darkness, but you still cling to hope someone might see you as more.”
“I know what I am, and that is the difference between you and a man like Jonas—he knows exactly who I am, and it is how I know he will come for me.”
“You should have learned by now—everyone has reasons for drawing you in. None of them are because of your few charms, Skadinia. Jonas of House Eriksson might come because he sees you as a prize, but we know how to fill that loss easy enough.”
One side of my mouth curled. “You can try. But if you do not give up this fight soon, you will not leave this isle alive, Arion.”
Arion stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. “Still so dimwitted and desperate for love. I hope to change that during our turns as king and queen.” The prince turned to go. “Food will be sent to you. Stop harming yourself; I will still keep you in chains if you cut to the bone.”
The door slammed behind him.
Let Arion and Gerard think they could reason and barter with my nightmare. I would relish their screams as he tore them apart.
“Stop touching them, they’ll fall off.”
“It’s starting to itch.”
Sharp whispers pulled me from a fitful rest. Somewhere in the quiet, exhaustion overcame me. My neck throbbed from the angle it was resting against the post of the bed, and from my knees to my ankles had gone numb.
Two Ljosalfar guards entered the room, one held a tray of food in his hands. I straightened, unable to fight, but I could snap and bite and curse them like I had done with every other face in this room.
The man holding the tray was tall and lean, his hair was not as satin and pale as most light elven, and the tips of his ears curled out, like they were too heavy to hold upright. His companion was broader with eyes that did not burn brightly, and he glared down at me with such hate, I thought he might draw a blade.
I jolted when the tray clattered on the edge of a desk. “Well, if I hesitated on whether to kill them before, now I have my answer. Poor lovey, chained like a hound.”
He yanked a knife from his boot.
“Stop.” A bite of shame filled my cheeks. I sounded so desperate, but I did not wish to die, not without at least seeing him once more.
The guard didn’t stop.
Not until his blade cut the ropes around my shackled wrists. I cried out and fell forward when my position adjusted so abruptly. The second guard caught me, and placed his palms on my arms, rubbing the agonizing sting of rushing blood away.
“It’ll pass, Princess. It’ll pass.”
The guard who sliced the rope touched his ears and sighed in relief when he plucked off the tops.
I gaped in a bit of horror. When the ears fell to the ground they dissolved like they’d been made of ash.
“Nik needs to work on that little sculpting trick. Feels like damn fleas are creeping along my ears.”
Nik? With caution, I looked at the guard holding me. I didn’t recognize him, but he too removed the points of his ears, leaving behind a rounded, mortal-like shape.
