Each morning I woke drenched in sweat, gasping, with a damn near insatiable desire to pound on his door, all to ensure my husband was alive.
For his sake, it was better to stay away. Those I let inside my soul never made it out the same. There was something that twisted them into darker pieces of themselves.
And some never made it out alive.
Near the window, I stirred a tin of herbal tea aimlessly. My quill had paused on the parchment. I’d yet to hear from my grandfather about the attack, so I began a missive describing the event.
Whenever I attempted to write how close the prince and his folk came to ingesting the sweet venom, the ink blotted and I couldn’t go on. And when the sun rose today, I admitted a truth I’d dared not face—I missed the prince.
I rather enjoyed the heat he brought to my blood, a reminder I hadn’t forgotten how to feel. I missed his snide looks, his cunning grin. I even missed his overuse of the nameFire.
My self-imposed exile was dull and loathsome. To make it all worse, I’d yet to recover my trunks of books and had given them up for misplaced or left behind on Natthaven.
The three tales I’d packed in my personal satchel had long since been read, and there was little else for me to do but write letters.
Now, with Jonas plaguing my mind, I could not even do that.
My forehead fell to the edge of the table. I was a damn fool.
“Lady Skadinia.” Dorsan entered without a knock. “You have a visitor.”
I snapped my head off the desk, swatting at the parchment sticking to my skin, and spun in my chair.
A woman in a woolen dress and curled hair tied behind her head followed him into the room. She faced Dorsan and returned a wobbly bow. “Thanks, my good man.”
Dorsan sniffed, his sharp features furrowed. Alver folk befuddled him as much as me.
Once he was gone, the woman faced me, a crooked grin on her full lips. “Remember me?”
I tilted my head. She looked familiar. “Lady Frigg.”
“Lady?” She made a sound like a gag. “I’m no lady. Frigg will do just fine. I’ve come at the order of the queen. She wants you out of the palace.”
My throat tightened.
“Oh, gods.” Frigg held up her hands. “Not like that. I just mean, Mal is fully aware you’re rotting away in here, and she asked me to take you around to get some air, maybe some sunlight. Or do you shadow folk not like the sun?”
“The queen asked of me?”
“Yes?” Frigg spoke the word like she wasn’t certain if she should respond. “Think she’s starting to get a little worried about you. So, can you tolerate the light?”
“Uh, we like sunlight fine,” I said. “Dokkalfar summon healing fromblood or foliage, but we are named shadow elven because most of our plants and herbs bloom in the moonlight. It is when summoning is strongest.”
“Huh. Interesting. Sander mentioned something of the sort earlier.”
“The prince is learning about Dokkalfar?”
“Trust me, Princess, he’s been fascinated by elven culture since the battle.”
I was glad Prince Sander did not harbor resentment, but I could not cease with the hope that his brother might do the same and ignore my demands, see through the lies, and barge into my room. Possibly put his hands on my skin again.
Frigg scratched her head. She truly was lovely. Without her straw hat, her light hair was full and wavy and her features were fair save for a few freckles on her nose.
She swung her hands by her sides. “The queen asked me since, if you recall, my maj was seeing to it you had a gown. It’s ready, so Malin figured it might be a good opportunity for you to see a bit more of Klockglas.”
An unmistakable thrill rushed in my blood.
Frigg must’ve seen the shift in my features for her grin widened. “I swear, there’ve been no sightings of murderous elven.”
