My parents had glares that lanced to the bones. Skilled in slyness, beneath the crowns they never wore, the truth was they’d lived half their lives as cutpurses and crooks.
My father took my mother’s hand, but kept his scowl on me. “Since you’re back, let’s get on with it.”
The Ever Queen followed them into the palace, smiling and chatting with my mother as though frustration only emerged near me.
“You’ve had her fretting over you for weeks.” Bloodsinger twirled a knife in his hand. “I dislike anyone who upsets my queen.”
“Threaten your disdain all you want, Ever King, I assure you this won’t be the last time I upset Livia. Or my mother and father. Been doing it for turns.”
A throat cleared behind me. The old palace steward puffed out his chest near the coach, causing his silken doublet, a size too small, to stretch at the seams. “If the proceedings are to continue, I do suggest we follow the alver king and queen and be on our way.”
My gut twisted. Raised with a father who could taste my fear and a mother who could rob me of any memory I tried to hide, I’d learned how to mask discomfort behind glib remarks and cavalier grins.
I hooked an arm around Sander’s neck, the other around Aleksi’s. “Well then, let us go and get me a wife before she runs again.”
Chapter 3
The Mist Thief
“That was foolish of you.”Cara draped one of my newly styled plaits over my shoulder. “What were you thinking? Ruffians, vagabonds, and the worst sort of men keep to places as that. You are fortunate we’ve decided to keep it from the king. Gods know, he has enough to fret about tonight than if his own kin will humiliate him.”
It was not the first lecture I’d endured from the woman, nor would it be the last.
Cara had overseen my education and etiquette since my youngest turns and was made of more steel than most. Firmly devoted to propriety, she was never one to shy away from telling me if I had stepped out of line.
Tonight, it seemed less about propriety and more like she might’ve been truly worried over my absence.
“I wanted to be alone, Cara. Nothing more.”
She let out a puff of air through her slender nose and swiped some of her pale hair back into the stern knot behind her neck.
The woman was voluptuous and lovely, in a terrifying sort of way. More than one royal guard shuddered beneath the heat of Cara’s scrutiny.
“Remember to speak only when spoken to, be pleasant, and gods all,show some gratitude they are not planning to overthrow our folk. They’re a frightening sort of magics.”
Unbidden, my knee bounced. I scanned a small scrap of pale rice paper with a neat scrawl, a gift from the queen of the sea fae after she was informed of the pending alliance with the alvers.
Queen Livia had taken to the trouble of writing out odd names used to classify the different magics in my future clans.
It was a small thing to offer, and I suspected she would be willing to give up more, but I was keen to avoid folk most days. While in the sea fae palace, I rarely left the rooms I was afforded to use.
Still, I had studied at length the small scrap of knowledge until the edges were creased and tattered.
Alvers took their affinities from shifts in the body—the rush of blood, the race of a heart, the senses, the response to pain—and each power had strange titles.
Mediskis were the healers, able to spur the body’s natural healing processes at a swifter rate.
Profetiks were otherworldly with their senses: sight, hearing, some could even taste the guilt of a lie or poison when they drew near enough.
Hypnotiks took power from the mind and thought, controlling or tricking folk with illusions. Elixists were fierce alchemists, poisoners, and potion masters.
Rifters were frightening, alvers who found power in reactions to pain. They could snap bones, slash flesh, break necks.
Then Anomali alvers took from the emotions of the heart—fear, hope, even nostalgia—but their magic was always unknown with how powerful it might be.
Almost like mine.
“Frightful.” Cara clucked over my shoulder.
