CHAPTER 41
Alarik
As the sun rose over the spires of Grinstad, Alarik marched towards the guest wing, where he knew Princess Elva would soon be waking up. He had to see her urgently, to steal a quiet moment alone before her lady’s maids descended with their trunks of flowers and jewels. He was not looking forward to their conversation – or the ensuing diplomatic fallout of cancelling an entire wedding with barely half a day’s notice – but he was resolute in his decision. He was choosing love. He was choosing Greta. He was choosing hope.
He could only pray that Elva would understand. That she wouldn’t begrudge him a fool’s chance at happiness. And if she wanted to flay him for the timing of it, then he would let her. He deserved it.
As for the pressing matter of Vask, Alarik did not intend to shy away from war. He would rail against Regna’s forces until he dethroned the rapacious queen and taught her a brutal lesson in humility. Even if it meant asking the witch queens of Eana for help. Even if he had to get on his knees and beg. A battalion of witches would buy him the precious time he needed to regroup,to build up his own army of soldiers and beasts, and come up with a longterm solution to restore Gevra to its former glory.
He would do it for his kingdom. He would do it for the possibility of a life with Greta. And though the plan was risky and far from certain, for the first time in weeks, Alarik finally felt like he could breathe again.
He steeled himself as he reached the guest wing, ignoring the curious glances from servants who watched him climb the stairwell in his nightshirt. He wanted to tell them to put down their vases of fresh flowers, to set aside the seating cards and centrepieces, and fold away all the last-minute preparations, but he owed the truth of his decision, first and foremost, to Princess Elva.
When he reached the hallway that led to her bedchamber, he slowed, surprised to find the princess of Halgard striding towards him with the same look of fierce determination on her face. She was wearing a green nightgown and a pair of slippers. Her blonde hair was loose and unkempt, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
‘Oh good,’ she said, with a huff. ‘This saves me a much longer walk.’
Alarik shook himself from his momentary stupor. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Looking for you. Somewhat urgently.’
They met halfway along the corridor. Alarik looked her over, trying to make sense of her anxiety. Her hands were bunched into fists and her shoulders were narrow and hunched. ‘What’s the matter?’
She swallowed thickly. ‘I want to call off the wedding.’
Alarik’s eyes went wide.
‘I can’t go through with it,’ she said, firmly. ‘I don’twantto go through with it. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said at once. ‘You don’t have to be sorry.’
He was so relieved, he could have lifted her from her feet and spun her around until he was too dizzy to stand.
‘Ah.’ Her lips curled, understanding softening the lines on her brow. ‘It seems we are in agreement, then.’
‘It seems we are,’ he admitted.
‘It’s one thing to marry a king for an alliance, but it’s quite another to marry a man who is hopelessly in love with someone else.’
Alarik tried not to flinch. ‘Is it really so obvious?’
‘Gevrans are not known for their subtlety.’
‘I suppose not,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry, Elva.’
‘This is a kindness to us both, Alarik,’ she said, gently. ‘I don’t want this marriage any more than you do.’
‘Does your heart lie elsewhere, too?’
‘Oh yes.’ Her smile broadened to reveal her pearly teeth. ‘You see, I am in love with my freedom. I thought coming here would give me more of it, but the truth is, Grinstad is not nearly enough for me. It’s too cold. Too isolated. Too wild.’ She looked past him towards the snow-dusted forest, the howling wind filling the momentary silence. ‘I want to know the warmth of sunlight again. I want to see meadows sprung with flowers and towns filled with people. I want to cross the Southern Sea and explore what lies beyond the boundaries of our maps. I want adventure in all its forms. Coming here has made me realize just how much further I wish to go. I want more than this place. This life.’
‘You deserve more,’ said Alarik, and he meant it. Elva was effervescent,a creature destined for more than the snowy tundras of Gevra. She was meant for flowering hills and thrashing waves, for sun-drenched isles and exotic foods. To fly, not to roost. He knew he could not make her happy, even despite his heart’s leanings. Because Gevra would never make her happy. ‘You deserve freedom.’
‘For now, I’ll settle for unpredictability,’ she said, dreamily.
‘That too, then.’
She took his hand. ‘Sometimes happiness is a place. And sometimes happiness is a person,’ she said, squeezing it. ‘You’re lucky that yours lives in this palace.’
