I chuckled. “We’ll see.”
Skadi was laughing with joy, not villainy. It was the first time I’d seen her so alive. I glared at Dorsan who looked on at his princess with a bit of befuddlement.
Raum curled his lip. “Tricky, tricky, little princess. But can your darkness match darkness?”
The sparring field descended into shadows. I clambered to my knees, noting where my mother stood, five paces behind my wife. Her hand was outstretched toward walls of shadows surrounding Raum and Skadi.
Von clapped and laughed.
“Skadi!” I called out. “At your back.”
“Traitor!” Sander shoved me away.
My fire spun around and let out a sharp shriek. From the wall of shadows, my father took my mother’s hand, emerging from the darkness. More than Daj stepped through—Tova had returned, Bard, Hanna, who was Ash’s younger sister, and Junie who kept her eyes to the sky, a little frantic to see her husband again.
Surrounded, exhausted, Skadi held up her palms, and let her blade fall.
In the same moment, her mists opened beyond Daj’s shadow wall and Niklas fell to the lawn with a grunt.
It took a moment before he shot to his feet. “Bleedingbrilliant! Gods, I have so many questions. So. Many. Damn questions.”
I strode across the field to the fading ring of darkness.
Shadow walking as a boy was my favorite part of my father’s mesmer. Fueled by a certain vow with my mother known as alver vows, my father’s magic could reach out and find his wife, shape a wall of shadows, then bring him and anyone with a fear to wherever my mother was waiting.
Skadi never saw them coming.
She laced her fingers behind her head, breathless. “You . . . you have darkness too, Highness?”
My father leveled me in a glare. “Have you not explained about titles?”
“Apologies, Daj.” I clasped my hands behind my waist. “My father adores being called Wondrous King or Glorious Majesty only.”
Daj opened his palm and before I could move, one of his ribbons of darkness curled around my ankle, ripping my feet out from under me.
Fear of looking foolish. Well, he dug deep into my adolescence to find that one.
I coughed when I flattened on the grass, but was lucid enough to hear him grumble, “We should’ve had daughters.”
More than one boot nudged my leg as my folk, those who’d raised me, loved me, trained me, merely laughed at my defeat. A shadow passed over my face. Skadi’s braids fell across her shoulder when she held out a hand and heaved me back to my feet.
Chest to chest, I studied her. Dirt and sweat coated her skin, but my fire was there in her eyes, blazing. “You are beautifully terrifying. Do you feel the emptiness?”
“No.” Skadi stared at her palms. “Strange. I learned the blade back home, but rarely was allowed to use my affinity.” She hesitated. “The coldness is strongest when I steal anything through greed, pain, hate, battle. In those moments people fear me, and it is as though my affinity turns beastly from their apprehension and makes me care nothing about them.”
“But you wanted to defeat us here,” I said, voice low. There wassomething off about the consequence of coldness, it didn’t settle right in my blood. “You laughed, you . . . looked happy.”
“I don’t understand it,” she admitted.
“I have a theory.” Sander shoved between us, his logic in full view. “There are consequences to all magics, right? What if yours is tangled with intention. The more brutal the act, the more your affinity pulls you in?”
Or what if folk had merely convinced her she was horrid?
Skadi considered the idea. “Could be. I didn’t start feeling cold on Natthaven until Arion and his supporters ensnared the Ever Queen and wanted me to harm her.”
“The light elf sees you as a weapon,” Sander said. “He would use you for his own cruel ambitions, but you pay the consequence. Dark acts would change any heart.”
“It’s interesting to think about,” Skadi admitted.
