I hated how the notion of holding any sort of importance to the prince of nightmares fluttered in my chest.
It felt like turns had gone by since I’d been in my own rooms. The royal chamber was arranged in a wing of four sections. A washroom, the bedchamber, a sitting room with a black marble inglenook, and a tea room I’d transformed into a small library.
The moment Cara left me to my own thoughts, I clutched a tattered leather-bound book of fables and fae tales I read as a child when I wasn’t convinced fae folk even existed.
My fingertips traced the gilded symbols on the front cover describing the stories inside. Legends like the Skald who fell in love with a forest nymph, and when an envious troll discovered their affair, the troll was given a talisman from one of the trickster gods to transform the Skald into soil to be pounded beneath his feet for all time.
Pages crinkled as I flipped through the tale to the faded end. I smiled, resting my palm over a drawing of two towering trees.
Heartbroken, the nymph sacrificed her heart to the goddess of lovers and vows, and was transformed into a beautiful white aspen tree. From the Skald’s cursed soil, a new towering oak sprouted with the soul of theSkald within, and tangled its roots with the nymph aspen. There they grew together for centuries to come.
A tale of sacrifice and unfailing love.
Once, I believed such a thing to be possible. Now, it was nothing but a thing of folklore.
I gently closed the tome and hugged it to my chest, peering over the balcony.
Trees on the jagged hills were thick and lush, tangled in great bowers across the forests and pathways that wove this way and that over the isle. Boughs were threaded like intricate threads of a weaver’s web.
Blossoms from hedges below carried honey smooth scents with each kiss of the breeze. Buried in the silken shadows of the morning mists were flickers of gold from sun wings welcoming the dawn.
The insects were curious little things and suspicious of the unfamiliar. Faint glimmers cascaded down Natthaven’s hillsides like tiny flickers of a candle. Doubtless the tiny beasts were uncertain what to do with so many fae folk on the isle.
Scorch marks still marred some of the trees black from fires of battle that waged not so many weeks ago.
A knock on the door sounded. One of the palace guards slipped inside the room. Behind him, two maids carried in a glittering silver gown.
The guard cleared his throat. “Highness, the alver prince dismissed the maidens who were to assist you in preparing for the vows, but asked you be tended to with the aid of ladies of his choosing.”
“Pardon? His choosing?” Cara was likely furious if the prince made a request for anyone other than her and maids she plucked from the palace halls.
“Yes, My Lady.” The guard lifted his nose. “His thoughts were along the lines of putting you at ease by those who might proclaim his attributes to you. And, well, they have come to you.”
Chapter 7
The Mist Thief
The Ever Queenstrode past the guard and gave me a small smile. “Hello, Skadi. I hope you don’t mind, but it is customary in our lands for fellow royals to aid fellow royals. We thought we could help you dress.”
Queen Livia had deep blue eyes and her long, dark hair flowed in a loose braid over her shoulder. The gown she wore reminded me of the tides with vibrant layers of different shades of green and blue.
The door had started to close again, but was practically kicked open by two other fae women in silk gowns. One woman had rings pierced along her tapered ears like mine, the other wore a single spike in her only ear.
“If you think I’m not going to take this opportunity to meet her properly, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m Krasmira.” The taller fae leaned against the edge of the vanity table, a sort of smirk on her mouth. “Most folk call me Mira.”
I held her gaze, uncertain if her grin was meant to be friendly, or if she was plotting something more sinister. Mira was taller than the Ever Queen, with amber eyes like the sap on the trees in the wood. A bit of mahogany deepened the brown of her hair when the fading sunlight caught the braids.
“Mira is the heir of the Southern fae realms,” Livia offered. “She also grew up with Jonas.”
Mira’s grin widened. “You realize you’re getting an utter fiend for a husband.”
Panic throttled my throat. Gods, her smile was one of delight. So, my fears were confirmed. The fae folk would take pleasure from my suffering.
“Mir.” Livia frowned. “You’ve got her thinking Jo is some sort of brute.”
“Oh, gods. I didn’t mean he was a cruel fiend. Just a loveable sod who is the most cunning of tricksters. Many bouts of frustration in my childhood came at the hands of Jonas Eriksson.”
“Skadi.” Livia went on, shaking her head. “You’ve met Celine Tidecaller, yes?”
