Chapter The Ever Queen: CHAPTER 50

Four days after battles ended, my leg was healed enough I no longer needed Murdock’s damn cane. Still, I looked horrible. Healing wounds, new scars, bruises across my jaw and face from Larsson’s boots.

In truth, my leg had turned a sickly, pulpy color, like rotted pomes, and hardly fit inside my trousers it remained so swollen.

Naturally, I blamed Murdock, told him if he couldn’t even manage to make me kingly, what was the point of a boneweaver in the palace?

Livia took great care in seeing to it pastes and ointments were rubbed across my bare skin. Great care.

I glanced over to where she sat in her throne at my side, recalling just this morning the sort of care she took now that our bodies did not ache and protest with every movement made. Her cheeks flushed, as though she sensed my thoughts and knew why I studied her.

Palace staff rummaged around the back of the hall, draping satin banners and fragrant blossoms across rafters and sconces. By week’s end, the palace would be bursting in a revel for all houses to honor the victory and to truly step into a new Ever.

No part of me wanted to participate in a revel. What I wanted to do was hole away in our chambers and memorize every new scar on each other’s bodies until we could not breathe, before our lives were tossed into chaos and interruptions.

But Livia was to be coronated soon, and we had new orders for more than one house that would be made public.

By the fortnight, we would set sail through the Chasm.

Rejection wasn’t a horrid fear, not with the earth bender still in my court, fresh from battle. Still, there were likely a great many emotions and thoughts about what was done to bring us here.

I was not certain how many of the earth fae would truly welcome the sea.

But it was unavoidable. Not only did Livia desperately miss those left behind, but already the protests from the earth fae were felt from their shores through the Chasm. Kings and Queens were at the point of demanding they rest eyes on their missing heirs, lest a new war began.

Queen Elise was the most frightening. The last time Narza arranged for us to speak through the water, the queen had left me with a scathing look that spoke a hundred threats if I did not return her daughter and husband soon.

“They’re here, Highnesses,” Alistair announced with a derisive sniff.

“Let them in then.” I shook my head. “Really, old man, why do you think we are here?”

Alistair grumbled under his breath, words about and and the . If only the old steward could see the way his sweet queen was biting down on her lip to keep from grinning.

Stormbringer and Tait were the first to step inside. Two elven followed, surrounded by palace guards, blocking any chance of escape.

Wrapped around the necks of the elven were dainty leaves. Unassuming as they were, dark lamna vines were potent, used for sea fae imprisoned for petty crimes across the Ever. An herb used to dull magic in the veins.

The woman, Skadi, was seated on a velvet chair, clad in a pale rose gown, her hair wrapped around her head, with curls down the back of her neck. No boots, not even satin slippers adorned her feet.

The man claimed a matching seat at her side, dressed in what looked like battle leathers and black trousers.

Narza took two nights unraveling the spell cast keeping the man in sleep. He was an elder, grooves in his skin and long silver hair the hint to his age. Elder or not, he was warrior strong, imposing, and carried himself with a touch of arrogance.

I took hold of Livia’s hand and slumped back in my throne. “So, you wish us to believe you are a king?”

The man straightened his shoulders. “Eldirard Joraff Naganeen, King of the Dokkalfar, or as you know from my granddaughter—shadow elven.”

“And you are kin to my dead brother?”

Eldirard sniffed. “Distantly. The traitor’s mother was of the Ljosalfar clan, the light elven, and was niece to my grandnephew, the king. As I said, distantly. I will never claim such a name in my kin—not after discovering what he did to his own blood.”

“You mean the murder of his mother?”

“Yes, sea king.” Eldirard frowned. “Elven folk find power in kinship bonds, to spill the blood of your folk, of the one who gave you life, it stains the soul. It stains the line, and I will never claim such a stain.”

Curious. I tapped the arm of the chair. “What of the other? This prince?”

“Prince Arion felt much more kinship to your traitor than I. Spoiled boy.”

“We have not found him since the battle ended.”

“I would imagine he has returned to his father’s court.” The elven’s nose wrinkled like he’d tasted something fetid. “Shamed, most likely. To lose the battle is a disgrace for a rising king. When I inform King Gerard of his son’s antics, it will be some time before Arion claims any throne.”

There was still too much I did not understand about elven culture and customs to feel entirely settled about Arion’s departure.

“The Lady of Witches tells us you were placed in a sort of stasis sleep. A dark spell. How is it you fell under it?”

“Arion,” said Eldirard. “He feels rather entitled to Natthaven.”

“Why would he feel entitled to your land?” Livia asked.

“Well, unfortunately, he is.” Eldirard shifted. “Though, I hope Gerard has sense to rethink certain entitlements.”

Livia shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I have no blood heirs for Natthaven.” Eldirard faced Skadi, a gentle, apologetic kind of smile on his face. “Arion is the closest blood kin and will inherit both clans. One ruler for both clans has not been done for nearly seven hundred turns. He’s quite proud of it and clearly impatient for me to die.”

“He attacked you?”

“Deceived is more like it. I am an old fool who did not even suspect it.” Eldirard sighed. “Like kinship bonds, our affinities crave arrangements, deals, alliances. It is how the elven folk have lived so long. Arion sent word to me not even two months ago, stating he desired to understand the Dokkalfar. If he was to one day be their king, he wished only to join us on our shores and build strong alliances.”

“It was deception,” Skadi said, unbothered and disinterested. “No need to blame yourself.”

Eldirard gave her a look of pity but patted the top of her hand. “Being the proud fool I am, I agreed, impressed he would take such initiative, and I was a little pleased to boast about my lands. He remained in my hospitality for days, playing the decent prince, befriending our guards. Little did I know, he was placing witch’s spell casts and potent blood bindings around my own men.”

The king clenched his fist over his knee, glaring at the tiles for a time before I cleared my throat. “Go on.”

“We were to make agreements, terms of his inheritance, if you will. It is a common request, and no small thing being that it has been centuries since an agreement has been done that unified the clans under one rule. As the one leaving the inheritance, I gave the terms. Once it is written, it is binding.

“My first term, was for Arion to always guard and defend my people as he would his own. Oh, the ways he twisted that. The second was to allow Skadinia a voice in my house. I should’ve also included that he was to abide her counsel.” The old man shook his head. “By the time I prepared to write a third term was when I realize the ink coating my quill was a wicked elixir.”

“Damn the hells.” From the back of the room, Mira covered her mouth, embarrassed she’d blurted her words out. “It’s just, apologies for the interruption, it’s just so conniving. He put on such a face for days, all with the intention to get you around that damn ink.”

Eldirard huffed with a touch of unresolved rage. “Yes. Conniving is one word. As my heir, and with me, the current king, unable to rule, he became the voice of Natthaven.”

“Why didn’t he kill you?” My question was brisk and a little callous, but it was what most enemies would do.

“Kinship.” Eldirard said like I should’ve realized. “Kinship bonds provide a level of protection. We are distant blood but blood all the same. Arion would not risk what your traitor risked, a cruel stain on the soul. It dulls affinities and creates a sort of madness over time. I’ve few doubts he would’ve been content to keep me in the sleep for centuries.”

“You were protecting him,” Livia whispered, looking to Skadi. “That was what you feared, if you did not stand with Arion he would harm your grandfather.”

The elven woman blinked. “Blood would not spill by Arion’s hand. But he was not above using your traitor or the sea witch to make good on threats of ending his life. They were willing to kill my grandfather without hesitation.”

Eldirard kissed her knuckles. “I am ashamed I did not place my third term at the first. I should’ve protected you more.”

“What was your third term?” I asked.

“That Arion would never use Skadinia’s affinity for greed, pain, or hatred.”

The mist. I leaned forward. “Explain more about her. She will not speak to us.”

“My words will change nothing that has happened,” the woman said. “Why would I speak to you?”

“Skadinia,” Eldirard grumbled a warning. “My granddaughter has a beautiful affinity. It is clever, helpful, it is a true power that protects Natthaven. But it is not without consequence. Should she take to her darkness for pain, or suffering, or brutality, it takes from her more than anything.”

“Skadi,” Livia tried again to speak to the woman. “I saw the change when they forced you to take my bond.”

The faintest hint of a flush filled the elven’s cheeks, but she said nothing.

“Why is she so cold?” I snapped.

Eldirard sighed. “That is what I’m explaining. Using her affinity for such things hardens Skadinia’s heart and soul. It leaves her with nothing but indifference.”

Bleeding gods. “For good?”

“It can. After so long, cruel uses will leave her practically heartless.” He gave her an affectionate look. “But I’m confident this one will fade. I hear she was rather emotional when she thought the attackers would kill me.”

“Emotional?” Jonas said, voice dark and low. “She nearly killed my brother.”

The woman tilted her head, facing the prince. “You were trespassing.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Jonas.” Sander hushed him. “I’m not sure she can help it right now.”

“She cannot,” Eldirard said. “The darkness she used to move Natthaven for the battle of a greedy prince pulled her back a great deal. Not to mention how she was forced to destroy a bond of love.”

“It destroyed nothing,” I said through my teeth, taking Livia’s hand in mine with more vigor.

“Arion didn’t want her to fade, not too much at least,” Livia said. “I heard him telling Larsson not to push too fiercely.”

“Selfish reasons.” Eldirard sniffed. “She must be clearheaded in her acceptance to take vows with him.”

“I don’t understand why Skadi is not set to inherit your lands,” Livia said. “Tell me you are not afraid of queens like sea fae once were.”

I kissed her knuckles.

“No, My Lady,” said Eldirard. “Queens have filled our histories since ice and fire first collided in the Ginnungagap void.”

They spoke of old lore regarding the creations of the realms of folk. Elven culture was strange, yet familiar.

“Then why is your granddaughter not the heir?” Mira was the one to ask.

“She is not my blood,” Eldirard said. He placed a loving hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Skadinia was orphaned as a wee girl. I found her rummaging the market streets, took to her spirit, and brought her to the palace where she has lived as a royal ever since.” The old man dropped his chin. “More than Natthaven, Arion seeks my granddaughter.”

“You don’t inherit granddaughters,” I said.

“Skadinia belongs to Natthaven. She will belong to Arion.”

“That’s barbaric,” Livia insisted. “Skadi, it’s true?”

The woman lifted her eyes, blue pools of . . . cold. “The king of the light clan arranged betrothal agreements the first turn I was brought to the palace. I’ve grown knowing one day my life would be bound to the Ljosalfar.”

“As I said, he needs her clearheaded. If Skadinia has no heart, she would not care to agree to the vows he wishes to make—her, as his wife,” the old man explained. “Another binding agreement I made with his father. The boy inherits my clan, but he does not simply get Skadinia as his wife unless she agrees.”

“He cares that much about making her his wife?” I shook my head, there was more to it.

“Yes.” The old man sneered. “He wants to control her affinity. With enough strength, Skadinia can devour lands, steal them away. Arion wishes to conquer, expand his kingdom, and he cannot do it without her.”

The woman was a damn weapon.

I narrowed my eyes. “How can you be so certain he won’t return for her?”

“I hope his father will hold him to account, at least for a time. But there is only one guarantee that my granddaughter’s affinity will never belong to Arion.”

“Explain,” I snapped.

There was little trust to be had between these elven and my house. Livia, her goodness, wanted a chance for these folk. If it were up to me, they would be holed away beneath the palace and forgotten.

Heartless by choice or not, I was not a forgiving man. The woman had nearly killed Sander, and all I could think was if the prince had died, it would’ve shattered Livia’s heart.

Eldirard cleared his throat, one hand still protectively on Skadi’s shoulder. “As I said, our abilities are loyal to our kin. To take vows would make her his kin, and her affinity would never fight against him. In fact, it might even bow to his demands.”

That drew my attention. “Yet you said there was a way to prevent this.”

The elven woman let out a sigh and turned away.

Her grandfather did not share her despondency and nodded. “If she takes on different kin before he has the chance.” The old elven crossed one leg over his knee, fingers drumming along the handles of his chair. “Not a simple solution, since the betrothal bond was already written. It would need to be a marital vow of equal title. A royal vow.”

“I don’t care for how you’re looking at me, old man.”

“I am looking at the king. A royal,” Eldirard said.

Livia sat straighter, dropped one hand to my leg, squeezing possessively. “The Ever King has a .”

Gods, the dark, silky threat in her voice. Never would I tire of being the desire of Livia Ferus. To know, after so many turns of being unwanted, she would go to bleeding war to keep me? I leaned over and pressed my mouth to the side of her neck. A promise, a threat, a need, that spoke of how I would devour her later.

I rose from my throne and approached the two elven. “I have no answer for your dilemma. But, despite the woman nearly killing one of our own, she also protected my queen, so here is what I can offer her—refuge until that frosty heart starts beating again. Refuge from this bastard of a prince. You, King, of course, will also sign a treaty of peace that your clan will never rise against the Ever.”

“Refuge?” Eldirard looked uneasy. “You mean for her to remain here?”

“If you mean what you say, I doubt this prince will accept defeat for long. We can offer refuge. I don’t trust her, so she’ll be ordered to wear the herbs and dull her affinity until we find we do trust her.

we find we trust her.”

The king stood, half a head shorter than me, but formidable all the same. “She is a lady of Natthaven, a princess, and you would have me leave her here like a caged hound?”

“No one said anything about cages, but if you wish to, I certainly will.” I curled my lip. “Let us not forget what I said—she nearly killed one of our own. If it were up to me, I’d cage her. Good thing for you, my queen is more forgiving.”

Skadi stood, hands clasped in front of her body. “If you allow my grandfather to return to our folk, I will stay.”

“Skadinia.”

“It is fair, Grandfather.” Her voice did not shift, did not strain. “I am regretful for harming a prince, but I did so to protect my own, like you protected yours.” She turned her gaze to the old man. “What does it matter? I feel nothing about the agreement, either way.”

Eldirard growled in the back of his throat. “You’ve been in the dark too long, girl.”

“Yes.” She looked back to me. “I will accept your refuge.”

She was frigid, almost a walking corpse.

“If that is all,” she went on, “I would like to begin my solitude, and my grandfather will need to be returning to Natthaven soon. Our people have need of their king.”

Without waiting for a dismissal, Skadi turned away, chin lifted, until two guards met her at the door. Upon my slow nod, they led her out of the hall.

“I will sign your treaties.” Eldirard sighed but dipped his chin in a subtle genuflect. “Your fairness is appreciated. I will not forget it.”

I rubbed my chin and returned to my throne. The earth bender, too, watched the old man follow the woman out of the hall with a dark glower. There was more to the elven. They were a powerful people, no mistake, and might continue to be a risk.

“You’re going to have Gavyn follow them for all time, aren’t you?” Livia whispered.

I smirked. “Among others.”

Livia traced the peaks and valleys of my knuckles for a moment, hesitating. “Do you believe them when they speak of kin magic? It seemed true. Arion didn’t truly harm Eldirard. Not until those last desperate moments.”

I rested my cheek on the claw of my hand, glaring at the door where they’d left. “I’m certain Sander will not rest until he knows every detail, but if that is so, then I won’t trust them. I have no vow to offer to make her kin.”

My hand curled around her fingers, and I drew them to my lips.

Livia sighed. “There is more to Skadi. I just don’t know what.”

True enough. There was a gnawing in my belly, a twist of a dull blade, as though somewhere inside believed a blade was exactly what the elven woman might become one day.