by Everly Frost
To my surprise, Jordan’s expression is as worried as Elise’s—not a look I’m used to seeing on her face. Jordan is always confident, composed, and in control.
Her face is flushed. She holds out her arm horizontal to her chest and rests her forehead on it in a gesture of remorse. “Princess, I ask your forgiveness. I had no power to stop him.”
My eyes narrow. As the head of my personal guard, Jordan is ranked more highly than any other military officer. She doesn’t control the army—only the nunnery—but no other elf can give her orders except for me. It’s a necessary precaution to ensure that nobody can get to me.
The only military position of higher authority than Jordan’s is the Commander of the elven army—again for my personal safety: it’s important for the leader of the army to communicate directly with me without obstruction from my guard. Baelen’s father used to fill that position but he stayed away from me. After what I did to his son, I didn’t blame him.
Luckily, the gargoyles have been quiet for the last seven years so it was possible for him to keep his distance. After his death, a temporary replacement filled the position, but to my knowledge, the Elven Command hasn’t announced a permanent replacement yet.
“Jordan?”
“I received word while you were in the Vault. Baelen Rath is now the Commander of the armed forces.”
And the only male allowed near me.
My legs almost fail me with shock—but at the same time a thread of relief flows through me. Maybe now I’ll have the chance to convince him not to be a champion…
At least it explains how he got past Jordan and made his way inside the anteroom.
She steps back, her focus shifting to a point behind me, and I suddenly realize that the door didn’t close when I passed through it. I thought Elise was right behind me, but she’s hovering in the background.
I sense Baelen’s presence in the doorway like a force stronger than lightning. I twist to assess the distance between us, the logical part of my brain telling me I can’t endanger him. The illogical part wants me to close the gap between us.
He steps forward, allowing the door to close behind him, moving far closer than anyone else would dare. His eyes don’t waver from mine. The heartstone is nowhere in sight.
“Marbella Mercy.”
It’s strange to hear him say my name. Everyone else calls me ‘Princess’ or worse: ‘the Princess’ even if they’re speaking to me, as if I’m a thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard my name associated with my House: the House of Mercy. When I became the Princess, I had to leave my home and my family behind. My mother is allowed to visit me once each year, but I’m not allowed to see my father and brother.
“I meant what I said,” I tell him. “I could hurt you right now.”
If he’s worried, he doesn’t show it. “Danger never bothered me.”
Spoken by anyone else, those words would sound conceited, but from a Rath they only ring with truth. I try to quell the smile forcing its way onto my lips. “I learned that about you a long time ago.”
Jordan clears her throat, her face flaming. Her eyes dart left. We’re blocking the corridor and, although it’s not a frequently traveled path, elves are gathering on either side unable to get through. Jordan’s expression makes it clear that we’re creating a spectacle.
On the eve of the marriage protocols, a spectacle is a bad thing. I remind myself that I’m not a girl anymore. I can’t catch Bae’s hand in mine like I once did, can’t tell him my secrets, can’t even smile…
I force myself to take a step away from him. He might outrank Jordan but he doesn’t outrank me. Damn that logical side of my brain. I want to stomp on it and kick it into a corner.
I swallow and speak loudly. “Commander Rath, you will attend the War Room to discuss your appointment. My Storm Command will be in attendance. I expect you there in two hours.”
I spin without another word, asserting my authority. He may be the Commander of the army but as a potential champion there are rules he has to follow.
The nunnery closes around me, stopping all the gaps that someone could step through, protecting me even from myself.
I’m supposed to be alone, untouched, pure, and pristine.
Only Baelen Rath knows that I’m not.
2. Baelen Rath
I force my feet to remain planted where I stand, fury pounding inside me as torrential rain rises to Marbella’s neck inside the Vault, threatening to drown her.
I’m not allowed to help.
After seven years away from her, I don’t know much about the rules, but her advisor, Elise, stands in front of the door into the Vault, sending a clear message that I am not to approach or interfere.
Damn it all. Give me an enemy I can fight. Give me a bloody battle against raging beasts. I’d rather face any of those than stand by and watch Marbella hurting.
My grip on my family’s heartstone tightens. I’m in danger of crushing it, but I don’t let up. Can’t let up. I have to channel my fury somewhere.
Inside the Vault, rainwater has nearly reached her neck, her brilliant auburn hair floating on its surface, her body immersed. She shivers so hard, I can see it from this distance. The water must be freezing. I can’t hear anything, but her head is tilted as if she’s listening carefully—and becoming angrier by the second…
I will her anger to increase. It’s how she’ll get through this. Her anger… she was also furiously determined, never revealing vulnerability even when she had a right to. I only saw her downtrodden once and I felt privileged that she trusted me enough to ask for my help. Well, not exactly ask. I offered and she accepted, allowing me into her life.
Lightning streaks from the ceiling to wrap around her, lighting up her body, her narrow waist, the curve of her legs and arms. She pushes her arms upward and the lightning follows her movements, taking the water with it.
The burst of light inside the Vault is breathtaking. Most elves don’t believe that she can control the lightning, but I never doubted it for a second. If anyone can conquer the Storm, it’s Marbella.
Lightning explodes from her hands, striking the heart of the thunderclouds above her. The walls shudder as if reacting to a giant explosion while Marbella drops to the wet floor, curling over. I can’t hear her, but I can see that she’s screaming.
Her scream… My worst fear…
I step forward, prepared to break down the wall if I have to.
My advisor’s arm knocks against my chest, attempting to stop me. He’s a tall elf, his skin tinged golden like the members of his House—the House of Glory. His robes swish against the floor as he moves, the intricate golden tattoo across the back of his hand catching the fading light from the Vault. His name is Gannon and his expression remains blank, pinched, always stern.
I glare at his arm, restraining myself. He doesn’t have the strength to push me anywhere I don’t want to go. I could snap his bones with a single twist. If he were my friend, a trusted advisor, I would never consider retaliating, but this male was appointed by the Elven Command to be my father’s advisor. I didn’t choose him, which means I can’t trust him. I can’t trust his motives for keeping me from helping Marbella right now.
When I turn back to the Vault, Marbella is dragging herself to her feet, her hair streaming down her back and clinging to her curves. Her black storm suit is torn across one knee, a bloody gash visible between the flaps, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she stumbles across the Vault and bursts through the door.
Her advisor rushes to speak first, but Marbella talks over her, an edge of fear in her voice. “The storm’s gone wild, Elise. I don’t know how much longer I can contain it on my own.”
Her fear is like a punch to my stomach. Nothing prepared me for her presence. Now that the spelled wall is no longer a barrier between us, all I want is to hold her, make sure she’s okay, make her smile, breathe in the scent of her hair…
Gannon lowers his arm and I nearly move toward her. I nearly fo
rget why I’m here, that her choices are not her own anymore, that I have to fight for her harder than I ever did before. If I want to stand beside her inside the Vault, fight the storm with her, I have to earn it. I have to become a champion and fight, ultimately to the death, to be with her.
The first step is now.
I’m moving before I know it, taking a knee, raising my family’s heartstone up to her, an offering held in both palms.
If she takes it, I’ll know that the last seven years haven’t destroyed us, that she still wants me in her life. I’m not afraid of the lightning still crackling around her, the tiny pulses caressing her fingertips and neck.
She freezes while the crimson stone glistens between us. With my head down, I can’t see her face, don’t know her reaction, other than that she doesn’t move a muscle. A thin trickle of blood slides down her knee, the only movement.
She doesn’t take the stone, doesn’t speak, and my heart… slowly sinks, cracks a little.
I try to search for reasons… any reason other than the one staring me in the face—that she doesn’t want me to fight for her. Maybe she doesn’t recognize me. I’ve changed a lot. Maybe she senses the wild that has crept into me, the wild that became my life while I was away from her. Maybe it scares her. Maybe I scare her. I try to stop the shudder running through my body. I never want her to be afraid, let alone of me.
She whispers, “Bae.”
I inhale the sound of my name, beat back the memories of the hundred times she said it before, a tiny spark of hope rising inside me, but as the silence stretches, my heartbeat slows and my hope fades again.
If she were going to take my heartstone and accept me, she would have done it by now.
Gannon steps into the light, his voice cold. “Princess, the stone is offered to you.”
A brief glance at her face tells me she’s frowning as if she’s waking from a dream. “What?”
Gannon spins to Elise, chastising her about something to do with protocols, but their conversation washes over me. Now that I’m looking up, I can’t drag my gaze away. Her hair has come loose from its tie, wet strands framing her face. Her lips are slightly pursed and the turquoise flecks in her eyes catch the light.
I’m shocked to discover that I can’t read her expression to know her thoughts. There was a time when I could tell what she was thinking, every little change in the way she pressed her lips together, every small shift in her gaze, the presence or absence of the slight crease in her forehead telling me if she was worried or happy.
Now… she’s blank, her feelings hidden.
She studies me intently, following the contours of my cheekbones to my chin, pausing at my neck as if she’s searching for something.
Ice fills my heart as I realize she’s looking for my scar.
I swallow, my jaw clenching, turning that side of my face into the light. The wound stretches from my temple all the way down to my ear, cutting in both directions along my jawline—behind my ear and also toward my chin. It’s like a thick, twisted rope, the kind of scar that is too brutal to be passed off as a mark of honor or symbol of power. It makes other elves uncomfortable, especially females.
I search her eyes for the girl I used to know, the one who didn’t care what I looked like, didn’t care how many fights I won, or how much power my family had, who saw more than the Rath name. I fight my fear that that girl is gone, destroyed by seven years of raging against a never-ending storm and surviving the Elven Command’s political intrigues as they retain their poisonous clutch on power.
I should have come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left her here. I should have broken down this Vault and taken her—and the storm—away from here. A crazy thought. A desperate thought.
Fear that I’ve lost her turns my voice to ice. “This is what you wanted to see?”
Her eyes widen. “I… No…” She stares at the heartstone, a fierce, trapped stare as her focus returns to my scar.
She steps back. “I can’t…”
Gannon’s face turns purple with rage. “Does the Princess intend to offend the House of Rath?”
I frown at him while Elise hurries to speak. I’m still learning the rules, but I’m starting to think I haven’t been properly informed. The way Gannon spoke makes it sounds like Marbella doesn’t have any choice except to take my heartstone. But I thought it was voluntary, an acceptance of my wish to become a champion, not a mandatory protocol, as if she didn’t have any say in it at all…
A dozen curse words pass through my mind. What if I’ve gone about this all wrong? What if I’m not supposed to be in this room at all? Now that I think about it, Marbella’s Storm Command was extremely flustered when I asked to see her in the Vault. They let me through, so I thought it was okay…
For the first time, desperation enters Marbella’s expression. She addresses my advisor, her voice brittle. “I can’t receive the heartstone right now. I’ve just come from the Vault. If I touch the stone, I’ll destroy it and anyone holding it.”
She lowers her gaze to mine. I see her again—finally—the woman I knew, the one who climbed mountains, stood on the edge of a cliff with me, and valued me more than my power.
Her eyes glisten with conviction. “I won’t be responsible for the death of the last Rath.”
My lips part. I want to tell her that she won’t be. That she doesn’t have to be afraid. I was built for war. I was built to fight. I’ve spent the last seven years making myself stronger than ever because I knew this day would come.
Lightning crackles around her fingertips as she steps up beside me. The power radiating from her up close is intoxicating. I lean toward her, into the danger instead of away from it, drawn closer, but she pulls away from me.
Without looking at me, she says to Gannon, “Come back at a more appropriate time.”
Gannon hurries out of her path, stumbling to avoid the light swirling around her as she strides through the first door into the second room.
I stand to watch her go, squaring my shoulders, lowering the heartstone to grip it in my fist again. She turns back at the final door, her gaze flashing across the distance, no less worried. Then Jordan Splendor demands her attention.
Jordan’s flushed face and gesture of failure aren’t lost on me. I definitely wasn’t supposed to be in here.
I growl at Gannon as I pass. “Get me whatever rulebook governs the Storm Princess’s movements as well as the Heartstone Ceremony protocols.”
His lips pinch, likely because he knows I’ve seen through him. If the rulebook confirms what I think it will—that nobody is supposed to enter the Vault—then it will confirm my suspicion that he’s an Elven Command spy. He used me for the opportunity to get a look inside the Vault. No doubt, he’ll hurry back to Gideon Glory to report what he saw. Either way, I won’t be taking his advice again.
“Yes, Commander,” he says.
I don’t give him the heartstone, not trusting him with it. Instead, I slip it into the pouch at my waist. With a polite nod to Elise—a nod I hope conveys my regret—I take a deep breath and follow after Marbella.
I catch Jordan’s final words as I stop inside the open doorway. “Baelen Rath is now the commander of the armed forces.”
Marbella wobbles but doesn’t reach for anything to steady herself, doesn’t ask anyone for help. I guess she was serious when she said she could hurt anyone she touches right now…
Jordan notices me, her eyes widening, and Marbella swings back to me. She immediately assesses the distance between us, adjusting so she isn’t anywhere close enough to touch me.
I want to apologize, but her fierce gaze obliterates every rational thought in my head. Everyone around us disappears. If I thought for a second that I had her permission, I would close the gap between us, brush the hair from her cheek, and ask her how she really is.
The corner of my mouth hitches up the tiniest bit. I hope she’ll respond with a smile, even a hint of one. “Marbella Mercy.”
It doesn’t look l
ike she does a lot of smiling these days.
She remains gravely serious. “I meant what I said. I could hurt you right now.”
I shrug my shoulders. I ask myself why I’m not afraid of the power crackling around her, but I have no answer for that. “Danger never bothered me.”
There it is. The hint of a smile, the smallest gesture that tells me she still remembers us. “I learned that about you a long time ago.”
Jordan clears her throat, pointedly indicating the blocked corridor.
I hope that Marbella will look left and sees who is waiting farther along the hallway. I want to give her a moment of happiness. My gift to her…
I bury my disappointment when she swings back to her ladies, throwing a clipped command in my direction. “Commander Rath, you will attend the War Room to discuss your appointment. My Storm Command will be in attendance. I expect you there in two hours.”
I don’t miss the fact that she emphasized she won’t be alone.
Watching her walk away is harder than watching her battle the storm. I fight the sigh that rises to my lips as I clear the doorway, allowing Elise to hurry after Marbella to join the Storm Command surrounding her.
Gannon also slips past me. “I will bring the books to your quarters, Commander.”
I give him a nod, pausing to make sure he’s gone before I head in the opposite direction.
Marbella’s brother steps out of the shadows farther along the walkway. She hasn’t seen him since the Elven Command ripped her away from her family after the Storm chose her. She and her brother used to be close; in fact, her whole family was. If I could give her anything right now, it would be time with him. I guess it wasn’t meant to be today, but I’m determined to reunite them one way or another.
“I’m sorry, Macsen.”
Macsen shrugs his shoulders, but he can’t hide the sadness lurking behind his eyes. It’s the same sadness that crept into his parents’ eyes after Marbella was gone.
“How is she?” he asks.
I shake my head, not afraid to let my guard down. There are only a handful of elves that I trust. Macsen Mercy is one of them. “I honestly don’t know. If what I saw is any indication, she goes through hell inside that Vault but doesn’t say a word to complain about it. She ordered me to meet her in the War Room in two hours.”
