“I’m late!” Tripping over my feet, I darted to the bedroom, clipping a small table with my hip. An entire plate of macarons and a jug of what looked and smelled like wine crashed onto the hardwood floor. “Damnit.”
“Everything alright in there?” Eldi called.
“Yes,” I lied, ignoring the urge to bury myself under the covers of the four-poster bed. Instead, I beelined for the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my backpack on an accent chair. I was surprised to see it sitting there. I’d assumed it had been confiscated upon arrival.
Gold arches, silver accents, and fluffy pink towels failed to mask the reality of the room: a leaky faucet, a massive chunk missing from the tile, splintered mirrors—a kingdom in disrepair. No shower, but the clawfoot tub was full. That was convenient, at least.
I dipped my finger in the water. Disappointment washed over me.
Cold, freezing cold. It must have been pulled last night. I sighed. Obviously, Galdur was better used on more important things than a bath, but a small shred of me had hoped the warmth had been preserved with elven magic. Nope.
There was no time to drain it and refill it, so, I stripped off my crusty clothes, my phone falling out of my pocket and clattering to the floor, and in I went.
Once dressed in a striped long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, I snagged the dwarven knife Nemuik had given me from the folds of clothes in my bag.
Still shivering from what was pretty much a cold plunge, I scurried to the couch, booties dangling from my fingers, and sat down.
“You’re in a hurry,” Eldi commented.
“I’m meeting with the queen.” Unrolling a pair of socks, I slipped one over my numb toes. “Yesterday, I somehow convinced her not to toss me into the ice dungeon, but today’s a different day. I assume she’ll want to discuss the vision that brought me here, Chthonia’s plans, stipulations for unlocking the watchtower.” Wiggling my other foot into the cotton, I said, “But who knows if she’ll be as forgiving. Got any advice?”
“I once heard a visitor say it’s best to just smile and nod.”
“Well…” Moving on to my shoes, I slipped the leather over my ankle. “I’m not good at either of those things.”
“You don’t have to be good; you just have to play. With the elves, it’s all a game.”
I nodded, clipping the dagger’s sheath to my waistband.
The flames crackled. “And I know it’s not much coming from a burning pile of sticks, but I like your smile.”
My cheeks lifted with the corners of my mouth. “Thank you, Eldi.”
Quickly weaving the strands of my damp hair into a French braid, I rose.
The glass in the mirrored furniture shook against the thud of my boots as I strode to the entryway, my shadow billowing over the floor, parting like wings in the shafts of natural light.
“Oh!” Eldi called after me. “Under no circumstances should you enact elven law.”
Halfway across the room, I stilled. “What?”
Another set of knocking, pounding, on the door, pulled my focus.
“Even if it’s your last resort,” the fire nymph continued. “Don’t do it.”
“Your Grace, are you ready?” Helga’s voice, meek as ever, was barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
Blood rushing in my ears, the only thing I could think to ask Eldi was, “Why?”
“You’ll get what you want, but like everything in life…” She trailed off, a lick of blue twisting with the flames, sadness coating her voice. “It comes at a cost. The elves are cunning. Creative. They’ll use your words against you, even the ones you do not say.”
Realization hit me like a solid punch to the gut: the dry jokes, the tips, somehow knowing where everything was despite being caged in an iron grate.
“Eldi,” I said, my voice shaking. “Did they put you in there?”
Another knock rang out from the door. “My lady, the queen has stated she is going to come up here herself should you not open the door. She has also stated you will not like it if she does.”
“Eldi?” I whispered.
