I folded the scrap and tucked it away, unaware she’d been reading as she finished the braid.
“They must not be so frightful if they have such allies with the other faekingdoms,” I said.
Cara frowned, like she might want to say something more, but held her tongue. It wouldn’t be proper to speak ill of a future ally.
Where Cara would think the gifts of alver folk as dreary, it almost sparked a bit of hope they would not despise my own darkness as fiercely as others. Not that I would ever reveal to them the depths of my mists that could steal away lands, armies, even life.
I was to be silent and mistrusted in my new house. It would not be so different from the home I’d always known.
Gold hinges on the thick, wooden doors groaned and opened. King Eldirard entered the room. He was not my blood grandfather, but he’d raised me like I was born of his house.
When he smiled, the lines of age showed beneath the silver stubble on his strong jaw. His pale hair was smooth and long over his shoulders, kept off his brow by a bronze, spiked circlet.
Despite the annoyance of the evening, my heart leapt in relief at the sight of him.
“Skadinia. It is good to lay eyes on you.”
“You as well, Grandfather.” I entered the corridor at his side and tapped the herbs wrapped around his neck, frowning. “Why do you agree to wear these?”
A necklace of pungent herbs was around my own neck. A spell from the witches of the sea, a way to dull the magic in the blood.
“It eases fears, Granddaughter.” He patted my cheek. “Once the alliance is signed, there will be no need for them not to trust us.”
This alliance was wretched.
Dokkalfar and Ljosalfar craved alliances and deals and treaties. There was a strange draw to them, to grow more powerful through the cleverest deals. It was the way of the elven folk, and had merely become a game of who crafted the best outcomes through the centuries.
Our people were laden in tradition and trade arrangements that stretched back to the time of lore.
“I’ve missed you since you returned to Natthaven.” I slipped my hand through his arm when he led us from the chamber and into the corridor.
“And I you.” My grandfather studied my features. “You seem less in the dark.”
My affinity locked me in coldness when used for greed or cruelty. Prince Arion did not invade the elven isle of Natthaven to use my ability for anything gentle.
For weeks after, I found a bit of comfort remaining in the cold of indifference. Reality was not as painful when a heart and soul could not summon a reason to care.
“I am a little better.” I kept my responses stiff, desperate to keep a few barriers in place lest I break under the truth—I was terrified.
My grandfather paused before we stepped into the doorway of the great hall. “Skadinia, you are to keep any reservations for this union to yourself, understood? This is an opportunity to grow the Dokkalfar throne and strengthen our forces with other affinities. If it all goes well, everyone will get what they want.”
The magic of familial bonds through elven blood was strange, but powerful.
The king winked. “Even Gerard, aggravated as he is with losing our previous alliance, sees the merit. Although, he would rather the elven claim fae realms without fae on the throne.”
I arched a brow. “The king of the Ljosalfar does not have claim to any fae realm, Grandfather. This alliance is for our clan.”
“It is. My line will be written in the sagas as the first to bond a kingdom of fae with elven.”
I nodded in compliance. In truth, that was what Eldirard desired most—a legacy. He had never sired an heir with his many mistresses over the centuries of his life, and lost hope until he took in a girl living in the trees.
With my wretched affinity he had something clever, new, and powerful. A new chance for his line to go down in the glorious histories of our folk. Elven were a proud people, always looking for the next move to strengthen the power and legacy of the clan.
This was the reason both elven kings once desired a betrothal with me and Prince Arion. Two powerful rulers joined as one over the two clans had not been done for centuries.
Arion was stronger than his father with his affinity to summon light; he could draw enough that it burned holes in the fabric between walls and doors. The light prince could literally walk through his magic from place to place. With my darkness, our vows would’ve crafted an unprecedented union.
I studied the profile of my grandfather. A greedy gleam lived in his blue gaze. This new direction was perhaps more enticing to him, for there were no tales of elven clans ever uniting with other kingdoms of magics.
