THE SUN RISES ON THE horizon, bathing the dark land of Myrkorvin in warm rays of light.
In the bright light of the morning, light and dark elves alike shuffle out of the palace with their heads down, some still in a stupor from last night, others looking anxious to leave. It would seem that last night was a relatively tame affair. And the only elf staying behind this morning is well…me.
Even as I stand atop the stone steps of Blackfire Castle and watch my parents load into our royal carriage, their final pleas for my release ring in my ears.
“King Arkain, let us take her home. There is no need for this,” my father had pleaded. One look at the black band around my wrist had silenced him, his face going white. My mother had been quiet with unshed tears in her eyes.
There was nothing more that could be done so I had held them tight this morning before they departed. My father told me how sorry he was over and over again. Even Garren had hugged me before snatching Sybil away and heading to the carriage.
As I disengaged from Briar, this was the first time I’ve seen his amused eyes devoid of all humor.
“Twenty-eight.”
I raised a brow at him.
“I slept with twenty-eight females during the night. Three at the same time. Skeven should triple your gold marks for that.” He stops himself. “I’ll make sure to tell him what he owes you.”
My smile is watery. “Keep it safe for me.”
He nods and looks over my head, no doubt at my future husband-to-be. Gritting his teeth, he whispers down to me.
“Maybe if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my own cock you wouldn’t be trapped here. If I had looked out for you like Father had told me to then maybe—”
“Briar,” I silence him. “What’s done is done. There is no point in dwelling on what could’ve been.”
“But aren’t you scared?” Briar asks. “The females are one thing, Elvie. But the males, the things I heard last night while I was…” He trails off.
“They’re not like us, Elvie. And for a male like Arkain, I can’t even imagine what he would be like in a marriage bed. Have you thought about that? What it means to be married to one of them.”
“Of course, I’ve thought about it, Briar.” I sigh. I am not as naive as my family would believe. Of course being wed to a dark elf, the king no less, would mean consummating our marriage. Perhaps I would be a bit more apprehensive if I had never been with a male before, but for some reason I do not fear it.
I do not fear Arkain.
For all that he is surly and standoffish, he has given no indication that he is cruel. Bar the whole deceit and essentially kidnapping thing. I know there was a reason for all of this and I am determined to figure out what it is.
“As I see it, Briar, I have two choices. To be afraid of the unknown and live out my life as a kept female, locked in her tower for all of eternity. Or, to embrace this. To try and make the best of this situation.” I laugh. “I would rather not bore myself with endless maudlin wailing. Besides, if nothing else, the king will at least make an interesting husband.”
Briar grunts and I can see he wants to say more.
There is a part of this that I am leaving out. Something that I do not wish to examine too closely. That last night, when King Arkain held my hand in his was the most aroused I have ever been. The ache between my thighs has not even begun to dissipate.
My lovers in the past had been fun but fleeting. None of them ever held my attention longer than it took me to come. They became too predictable, too eager to please me. Arkain looks anywhere but at me. Yet I can see it in his eyes that there is something he is holding back.
And if I am to be trapped here for all eternity I’ll have plenty of time to discover what that look means.
As if my thoughts had summoned him, I feel the king at my back. Like icy fingers drifting down my spine. Briar stiffens in front of me. My brother is no fighter and is half the size of Arkain. It is sweet that he looks like he will try and protect me. Arkain could snap his neck in a matter of moments but the gesture of him looking fierce over me is appreciated.
“Time for farewells have passed,” Arkain states. The rough timbre of his voice makes me shiver. “The bridge will only be open for another hour. Get your kind across.”
Briar opens his mouth but I grasp his forearm, silencing him.
“Remember my gold marks from Skeven.” Briar smiles and leans down to kiss my cheek.
“Take care, dear sister.”
He turns from the steps, the morning sun illuminating his golden hair. I watch as he makes his way down to our family’s ornate carriage before climbing inside. The door closes with a soft thud and I watch in silence as it rolls down the cobblestone path. Our bannermen on their white Lysan stallions guard the carriage. I stay rooted to my spot until the last of their golden tails is a mere speck in the distance.
I do not realize I am crying until I feel the wetness drip down my neck.
Turning, I face Arkain. He looks down at me with his red eyes, glowing with that inner fire. He should scare me. The scars along his brow indicate that he is a man of violence. His thick arms are crossed over his chest, his fingers tipped in dark claws digging into the soft leather of his armor. Sharply pointed ears stick out from his expanse of long dark hair.
I find myself wishing I could reach out and trace those ears with my finger. My tongue.
Shaking myself, I forget about those thoughts. The last thing I need is him scenting my arousal. Watching as his nostrils flare, I think I have been found out but he merely turns and waves with a large hand.
“Follow me, I’ll show you around the castle.”
Having no choice but to obey, I lift the skirt of my gown and follow him back inside. In the daylight the palace does not seem so ominous. If anything, it feels a little…sad. My home, Solys Castle, was never this quiet. Nor was it this dark. Back home we had skylights that let in the warm golden rays of the Lysan sun. Here the dark wood of the doors and the black stones of the walls make me feel like I am walking through a cave.
The silence is stifling.
Back home I could never get a moment to myself. There were always servants rushing by to tend to the kitchen or the immense gardens. Whereas now, I can hear myself breathe as I follow behind Arkain. The same plush red carpet I followed outside last night is muted. The portraits that hang in the hall are skewed and caked with dust. These castle servants are severely lacking in their duty.
We pass through another series of great oak doors, all with the Myrkorvin crest etched onto them. Two swords crossed behind a goblet. There is the lingering scent of damp earth as we pass from each room. As if even the air has gone stagnant in the barren halls. I do not get too long to assess my surroundings as I am pushed forward into the throne room.
It looks even more cavernous now that there are no party goers filling up the room. Just a great hall with stone columns in the same black stone the castle is made from. Banners with that same Myrkorvin sigil hang from them and blow gently in the draft from our entrance. Hundreds of candles are lit to illuminate the room. Even with the sun rising, it does not give off the same warmth as the sun back home. It doesn’t seem to be nearly as bright either. Whatever magic is at work here, I am beginning to realize the difference in our two lands goes beyond just our kinds.
In the warm glow of the candlelight, King Arkain’s throne is easier to see.
There is no doubt that the dark elves are a warrior breed. His throne is forged from black metal that is cut at jagged angles. Rubies of all sizes are embedded into the throne so that it glows like a roaring fire.
We stop in front of it.
“This is my throne room.” Gods, if he was any stiffer he would snap in half.
“I can see that.”
He grunts and I raise a brow.
“No throne for the queen?” I ask, and he looks down at me. “How primitive.”
“Queens have always stood at the side of the king.”
I consider this for a second before walking up the steps to the dais.
“I would like a throne. I hate standing for long periods of time.”
He splutters, his ruby eyes widening.
“You want a throne?”
“That is what I said.” I run my finger along the throne. It is as sharp as broken glass, the rubies cool to the touch.
“No. That is not tradition.”
“It’s not traditional to take a light elf bride.” I look at him over my shoulder. “Are you a king that picks and chooses what rules he wishes to follow as they suit him?”
“Yes.” His answer is gruff. I laugh softly at that.
“How wonderful for me.”
“Come down from there,” he grits out. “You will hurt yourself.”
“If you are going to be like this, with all this constant nagging, our marriage is going to feel longer than an eterni—ow!” My finger snags on the corner of the throne. Crimson blood pools from my fingertip. Sucking it into my mouth to relieve the sting, I turn back, bracing to see the self-satisfied smirk on Arkain’s face.
I never anticipated almost smacking face first into his massive chest. How did he move so fast? His gray face has paled and his red eyes are wild.
“Are you hurt? I told you that you would injure yourself!” He snaps at me. I wave him off with a hand. Popping my finger out of my mouth, I wave my hand as the skin stitches back together. Wiggling my fingers up at him, I smirk.
“Relax, my king. See? No worse for wear.”
He glares down at me and shakes his head, grasping me by the upper arm. While his hold is firm, it is gentle. I get that funny feeling in my stomach again as my heart beats fast. There is something heady about someone who is obviously so powerful handling me like I am made of glass. Not to mention my head doesn’t even reach the bottom of his chin.
The funny feeling in my stomach seems to be traveling lower in my body. How odd.
“Come. I will show you to your room where you will not injure yourself further.”
We walk down a long corridor in silence before he stops at a pair of great oak doors.
“These are the queen’s rooms. Servants will be in to attend to you.” I raise a brow and look at the large oak doors. Looking past him, these seem to be the only doors on this wing of the building. How odd.
“Where do you sleep?” He raises a brow at my question.
“The north wing.”
“And once we wed, we will share the same room, yes?”
“No,” he says bluntly.
“No?”
“No. It is tradition.”
“My parents have always shared the same room,” I counter.
“Mine were mated and very much in love and yet they still kept their own quarters. Besides,” he bites out, “I am sure you would welcome time away from me. A monster has claimed you as his bride, he is not so cruel that he demands you stay with him every night for all of eternity.”
I open my mouth to what? Deny it? Tell him not to call himself a monster.
Whatever I was going to say dies as the same white-haired dark elf from last night rounds the corner. Upon seeing me, his eyes narrow. If looks could kill, I’d be already getting prepped for my funeral gown. He bows to Arkain, his white hair falling forward over his decorated black armor.
“Your Majesty, word has come from our scouts in the east. The matter is urgent.”
Arkain’s mouth sets in a hard line and I see him curl his claws into his palms. The east? What goes on in the east? Then it dawns on me. The orcs. Are they stirring again? I almost ask but Arkain begins to stomp off. He pauses when he is a few feet away and without turning to me calls out.
“We will have dinner in my private quarters tonight. My servants will collect you.”
And just like that I am left alone in the hall. The castle is so quiet I can hear my own breathing. With nothing else to do I push open the massive doors and am greeted by the most depressing sight imaginable.
I know the dark elves pride themselves on being wild creatures of the night, but this red and black color scheme is getting ridiculous. The room is spacious but vacant. A large bed sits against the wall with black sheets and quilt. There is a spacious window that is letting in sunlight, illuminating a dark wooden vanity and a black stone tub in the corner.
A royal wardrobe is off to the side. Even from here I can see the different garments. All in the same dark black color. A few have blood-red stitching, but it seems as though dark elves only shop from a small color palette.
With a sigh I lie down on the bed. It is comfy enough. For some odd reason I feel as though I am inhabiting a tomb. There are no personal effects in here. No paints or portraits. As if all traces of the last queen have been wiped clean and the shell of her living quarters remain.
I have to do something to make this space mine, if I am going to be staying here.
An idea strikes me.
There is one place that I did feel more myself and Arkain did not demand that I stay in my room until dinner. Finding a black cloak hanging in the wardrobe, I put it on and exit the room on silent feet. There is one servant who is carrying a stack of plates down the hall. He regards me with curiosity but doesn’t say anything. His hair is pulled back from his face in a low bun. A scar runs through one of his red eyes.
I keep going back down the corridor, using memories from last night to carry me. I pass by a few more guards who regard me but then look away. Maybe they think I am not worth the trouble of hassling. That if I am happened upon by a wild beast and eaten then so be it.
The thought makes me shiver but I keep moving until I am out the doors I exited last night. The sun has fully risen now and I make my way down the stone path on bare feet. My toes curl over the cool stones until I find myself passing under the wisteria-covered archway.
There were many tricks Arkain played last night, but I am happy to know that this garden was not one of them. In fact it feels even more magical in the day. While the night-blooming flowers were the draw last night, today there are all types of plants preening under the sun.
Ivy plants and black vines curl up the walls of the garden. Being careful not to trip over fallen branches, I make my way back towards the willow. In the daylight, she seems to be resting. Charging her branches so they are ready to glow when the moon is full.
I am just about to go pick some wildflowers at her base when I hear something.
“Ridiculous! After all of these months he just had to have a party, and now look at them! It’s going to take months for me to regrow them!”
I squint as I round the corner and see who is out here.
There, crouched at the base of the tree, is a curvy figure. Wildly curled hair the same shade as the darksky roses is pulled back with a leather band. There are countless bags and bottles tied to her sides as she digs through the dirt. Her pale skin is caked with dirt and there is a smattering of it on her freckled nose.
A piece of magenta hair falls in front of her face and she quickly tucks it behind an ear. Which is round. My mouth falls open in shock, before being replaced by a smile.
“A human!” I cry. The figure in front of me screams and drops her glass vial she was putting dirt into. Her round cheeks turn the same shade as her hair as she jumps to her feet.
“Do not sneak up on me!” She shakes a finger at me and I continue to smirk. “I swear all elves should be born with a collar and bell. It is not natural how quietly you move. It is as if the gods made you creatures just to scare the daylights out of me.”
“How unpleasant for our females to birth babies with belled collars.”
“Oh excellent,” the pink-haired human shakes her head. “This one likes to tell jokes.”
“I apologize others of my kind were not nearly as entertaining.” I smile. “My name is—”
“Princess Elveena, from Lysan. The bride Arkain took from the Night. I know. The castle has been buzzing with the news.”
“Buzzing? That castle is quieter than a graveyard.” The pink-haired human laughs.
“Yes, King Arkain keeps the main part of the castle quiet. That’s why most of the staff keep to the west wing.”
“Right,” I say. “And you are?”
The pink-haired human blushes again and does her best attempt at a curtsy .
“Kaethe, royal alchemist. I do apologize, I mainly stick to my lab so my manners when greeting elven nobles may be a bit rusty.” She swallows. “Your Majesty.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“Don’t worry about it and call me Elvie.”
“Then call me Kae. I prefer it anyway.”
I smile and look down at her. She is half a foot shorter than me. In her linen pants and flowy shirt she is all soft curves and freckled skin. Kae must be around my age. But there is knowledge in her blue eyes that makes her seem older.
“So what is a human doing in Myrkorvin? I thought humans weren’t permitted to live here?”
“Who told you that?” Kae asks.
“It is what we are taught in Lysan.”
“Well, there are plenty of humans here. I’m sure you’ll see them the longer you are here.”
“And how did you become the royal alchemist to King Arkain?” Kae freezes and something passes over her features.
“It’s a long…story. Quite a boring one I’m afraid.” I nod and know when not to pry into something.
“Then perhaps you can tell me what you were doing in the dirt?” Her blue eyes widen as if she just remembered and she drops to her knees again, digging with short, blunt fingers in the soil at the base of the willow.
“Someone during last night’s party must’ve thought it funny to tramp over my liverworm plants. These things took months to grow. I’ve been needing them for a certain antidote I’ve been working on and this just set me back a few months.” She holds up the wilted green leaves towards me. Indeed all the plants near the base of the willow look like they have been squashed under foot.
I put a hand over my mouth. It is quite possible that this was mine and Ari’s doing during our dance.
I must fix this.
“Here, let me help you.” The free magic zips through me and metal perfumes the air. Kae sucks in a breath as her liverworm plants knit back together. The leaves refill and become plump once more. Their deep emerald shade is restored and new mature liverworms also sprout from the soil.
“How did you do that?” she asks incredulously.
“It’s my magic. I have a way with plants. Surely someone in Myrkorvin can do the same thing?”
“I’ve never seen it. That type of magic isn’t wielded by the dark elves.” The joy on her face is clear until unease clouds her blue eyes. Her face grows serious and cautious.
“What do you want in return for helping me?”
I am confused and then I realize. As a human surrounded by dark elves she is used to having to bargain for assistance. To deal and barter. That all kind deeds are just the means to fulfilling some type of trick.
“I don’t want anything from you. Light elves don’t deal in trickery.” She visibly relaxes at that. “But if you did want to repay my kindness there is something you could do for me.”
“What?” she asks.
“You could show me around the castle? I’m afraid Arkain was less than an enthusiastic tour guide.” Kae chuckles at that and rises, swiping her dirty palms on her pants.
“Now that I can imagine. Come, let me show you what all this castle has to offer.”
The two of us turn and set off back towards the castle. There is a lot that can be said about Myrkorvin, but as I look down at my pink-haired companion, one thing is for certain. Life here will certainly not be boring.
