ARLET
Present day, after the meeting…
After Vann left me in front of the throne room, I went to the front of the palace. There, I found my gifts had already been taken away, so I picked up a bottle of mead from the celebration and made my way home through Enduvida’s cavernous expanse.
As I walk, I savor the scent of nighttime. The air is thick with the smell of damp stone and the faint, earthy sweetness of bioluminescent mushrooms clinging to the walls.
When I cross a bridge, my mind clears even more. The bottle sloshes when it hits my hip, and I long to uncork it, and take a sip.
Normally, I don’t drink. Not really. Bad things seem to happen with me and alcohol, but it had been a long night, and I’d already partaken at the party. It helped me ease my racing mind. I don’t want that to end.
When I enter the council residence section, I take in the dozen circular homes before me. They are sturdy, but luxurious by my standards. Though they are all similar, being built into the rock gives each one its own charm.
My steps falter as I pass Vann’s home, a two-story dwelling builtof dark stone. It is beautiful, like all the homes around it. Its entrance is framed by a twisting, root-like carving that gleams where the crystal veins run through it. The yard is well-kept and full of sprawling fungi that glow faintly in hues of violet and green.
A small forge sits at the side of the house, almost out of sight. I’d seen him tending to his weapons there, but at this hour, all signs of work have faded.
My fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, and I tear my gaze away, pressing forward to my own home next door.
The words from the missive infiltrate my thoughts, and I grit my teeth.
"The solution is simple."
I can hear Arion’s voice, as if it were him reading me those words. He’d made me afraid, held me to the spot. Made me watch.
A memory of screams infiltrates my mind.
I climb the steps—too fast, too clumsy, my feet catching on the uneven stone, forcing me to throw a hand against the door frame to steady myself. The mead sloshes inside the bottle. I almost laugh at myself. I never drink, and yet here I am, stumbling into my own home like I don’t know the shape of these walls.
A few more words slip through.
"A symbolic offering to demonstrate the legitimacy of your request. A virgin to bear the elven heir."
The Elf King’s melodic, dark voice whispers in my ear,“Just a little longer, Arlet.”
Pushing through the front door, and into my home, I almost want to sit down right here and cry. Blood rushes in my ears, and I can only see the blur of crystal-lit stone as I press a hand against my face. Hot tears slip through my fingers.
Arion scares me.
We have an army large enough to protect our people from the vaimpír and other small threats. But we do not have enough to survive a war.
Not now.
Not now, when the children are growing up without fear.
Not now, when we have just opened a new section of our city.
"The flame-haired one called Arlet."
The king’s words circle in my mind. His phrasing, his demands—they are not new. Every word from the stone tablet is something he has already said to me before. Forcing myself onward, I climb the steps to my room, open the door, and take in the cozy, familiar sight.
What the hell kind of game is he playing?
I take a deep breath.Pull yourself together, Arlet. No one is upset with you for denying. Based on what Thorne said, it was probably for the best.
And as for my lies? Well, I don’t owe truth to a man who has betrayed me before.
But my feelings aren’t so easily calmed. He wants an heir, which I would be incapable of bearing. Even if he didn’t terrify me, I need strong magic to heal me. Last time I checked with Ulla, after a series of irregular bleeding cycles, my womb was still scarred.