Print-outs of my emails from the library. The two with Carter. The two between myself and Professor Gould. How did he get these? How did he know?
I look up at his face, and I’m sure he can read the terror in mine. But he smiles again. This time there’s no mistaking the malevolence in the expression.
“After all I’ve done for you, Vancia, I must say—this hurts me.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I just want to live my life. How did you…”
Leaning forward across the desk, he drills me into my seat back with his stare. “As I’ve told you before, dear daughter, we all have a role to play—a job to do for the greater good of our people. Your new friend Ava did her job.”
“Ava?” A pang of betrayal squeezes my heart. “She told you. Was her job… to spy on me?”
“She was instructed to look out for you, and that’s exactly what she’s done. Don’t look so offended.” He laughs, relaxing into the high leather back of his desk chair. “It’s not as if keeping a watch on you was unnecessary, is it? It’s a good thing she was faithful to her task. Your… dallying could have ruined everything for all of us.”
He stands now, coming around to the front of the desk and towering over my seated position. “There will be no art school. And there will be no more communication with this human boy. If you care about his… welfare at all, you’ll obey me in this.”
I spring up from my chair to face him. “You leave Carter alone. If anything happens to him—”
Pappa’s head drops back and he laughs loudly. “You’re threatening me? What will you do? Hmmm? This plan is not only mine, but the High Council’s. Do you know how embarrassing it will be for me to face them again after what you’ve done? By now, Thora has informed them all about your extracurricular activities. I never dreamed my own daughter would shame me before my subjects.”
Anger burns my gut like ghost pepper sauce. Anger toward Ava for deceiving me. Toward the Council and their schemes. But mostly toward Pappa, for bringing up the idea of hurting my friend. For caring more about what the Council thinks than about what I might want. And for laughing at my feelings and hopes and dreams.
My voice is a low scrape in the quiet of his luxurious office. “You’re not my real father. My parents were Calder and Eira. And they’re dead.”
All amusement slides from Pappa’s face. “Yes. They are.” He leans in close enough for me to feel his hot breath strike my cheek. “And unless you’d like to join them in Alfheim, you’ll do as you’re told and remain useful to me. Never forget—you’re not my real daughter, either.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sweet Sorrow
“Hey, what’s up Tink?” Carter approaches me with a huge grin as I’m shutting my locker Monday afternoon.
“Hi,” I wheeze, my nerves short-circuiting at the sight of him. How am I supposed to do this—cut him off, stop being friends, or whatever we are?
He gives me a quizzical glance, head tilted to the side, brows raised. “You still jet-lagging?”
No doubt he’s wondering why I never returned his last email. Or called.
Even if I dared to do it, I couldn’t. Pappa took away my laptop and tablet and phone. I’ve been living in the Dark Ages for the past few days, and I don’t know how long it will last—probably until my blessed wedding day. Maybe even after that, when I’ll trade a controlling father for a possibly more controlling husband. I’m officially a prisoner in my own life.
“I’m fine,” I say without emotion, without looking at him.
“Ooookaaay.” Carter drags the word out, waiting for some sort of explanation for my pissy mood, I guess. When I fail to offer one, he tries again. “So, you have a good time in L.A.? Am I going to see your lovely face on the front of a magazine at CVS soon?”
“I’m late,” I say. “I’ve got to go. Sorry.” Like a complete coward, I whirl away and start toward my next class, trying to leave him behind. I have to—physically and emotionally.
But Carter catches up to me and drops a hand on my shoulder, stopping my forward motion and turning me around to face him. “What’s going on, Vancia? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”
Sighing and blinking back some really ill-timed tears, I say. “No. You didn’t do anything. It’s just… I got into the art school.”
“Well that’s great! So why—”
I shake my head. “I’m not going. Pappa found out and put his foot down.”
Now Carter’s normally jovial eyes turn stormy. “He can’t do that. That’s your dream. And it’s your life. You’ve got to do it anyway, Van. There’s got to be a way.”
“No,” I shake my head repeatedly. “There’s not.”
He frowns. “Well, maybe I can—”
“What?” I snap back. “Maybe you can what? Debate my father and make him change his mind? Give me the money yourself?”
My frustration-fueled jab hits its mark. Carter’s hopeful gaze drops to the streaked linoleum floor between us.
“Well, no. But I was thinking—I could maybe get a job out in California—I’ve always wanted to see it. We could, I don’t know, be roommates or something, and you wouldn’t need to rely on your father because…” His voice drifts off into an embarrassed silence.
A tear spills over onto my cheek. I wipe it away with one hand, wrapping the other arm tightly around my ribcage. “Carter… we hardly know each other.”
“I know. I know it’s stupid—I just want the chance to get to know you—I don’t want you to go away and never see you again. I feel like there’s something between us. Or there could be.”
I let out a shaky exhale, at a loss for words. He’s stunned me to the core with his proposition—and how much it appeals to me.
“I don’t know what to say. I wish… I want…” I can’t say what I want. I’m not allowed to want what I want.
Carter moves forward and wraps a hand around the back of my head, pulling my face to his. Before I can even think to protest, our lips come together and he’s kissing me. Right here in the hallway at school, like the couples I’ve seen together over the years—human couples.
The rush of pulsing sound between my ears drowns out the banging of locker doors and hallway conversation. There’s only Carter’s sweet, hot mouth moving against mine and the soft strikes of his rapid breathing on my cheek. My heart is rolling around inside my chest like it’s searching for the emergency exit.
My first kiss—well, except for the one Nox gave me about a week before the plane crash. Nox.
I pull away and stare up into Carter’s blue eyes, so open, so innocent, so unaware of the dangers my world presents to him. If there was something sinister behind the plane crash—if Pappa is so secretive about it for a reason…
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he says with a pleased grin.
Shaking my head sadly, I step back to put some room between me and the sweet, smiling boy in front of me. The boy I’m endangering just by being here with him. “Carter… you have no idea how much your offer means to me, how much your… friendship means. But moving out to California together would never work. My father is not what he seems. He’s more powerful than you can imagine, and he’s… dangerous. I can’t go against him, and if I did, I certainly wouldn’t involve you.”
Carter’s gaze grabs mine with a ferocity I’ve never seen in him before. He re-closes the distance between us and takes my hand, squeezing it. “I already am involved. And if you’re really scared of your dad—there’s no way I’m letting you go through this alone.”
“No. You’re not involved. You can never be.”
A new sense of comprehension enters his eyes. “I understand. You don’t feel the same way about me.” He releases my fingers and nods with a hard swallow.
“It’s because I do care about you that I have to do this. We can’t… we can’t study together anymore. Or email. Or anything else.”
He continues to nod, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
/>
“I get it. Well, take care of yourself then. And Tink—” He steps back a couple of paces, preparing to turn in the opposite direction. “You can have the life you want. You can do anything you set your mind to. I don’t know where you’ll end up—but don’t give up, okay? I’d hate to see that beautiful light go out.”
The bell rings as he walks away. I stay in place, watching him go, watching the distance between us grow.
* * *
At dinner that night, Pappa and I eat in silence. Finally, as a servant clears the dishes and he’s beginning to rise from his chair, I say something.
“May I speak with you?”
“If you’re going to try to argue with me—”
“I’m not.”
He sits back down and tents his fingers under his chin, elbows on the table, waiting for me to continue.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. I realize you’re trying to do what’s best for everyone—for me. And I apologize for sneaking around behind your back, and for… saying you’re not really my father. You’ve been very good to me, and I’m grateful for all you’ve done.”
He gives me a sincere smile. “Thank you for saying that.”
“And…” Here my voice almost fails me. The words that are about to come out of my mouth are so opposite of what’s in my heart that it’s difficult to force them. “I will do what you ask. I’ll drop the idea of art school. I’ll do the modeling and have a fan pod when the time’s right. And I’ll marry the son of Ivar.”
The smile turns into a beam of light. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen Pappa, including at his most recent election-night victory party. “This is wonderful news, Vancia.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Of course, you’re still under restriction—temporarily. I cannot let you have your computers and phone back yet.”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
And I don’t care. I don’t need them—not for the new plan I have in mind.
No, the allies I plan to enlist don’t even use email or phones or any other form of modern technology. I’ll need to see them in person. And that means going with Pappa to Mississippi.
To Altum.
To the home of the Light Elves.
Chapter Sixteen
Bridal Suite
Dirt. No matter which way I turn, all I see is dirt. How do they stand it?
I’ve been here in the underground Kingdom of Altum for three days now, and I’ve scarcely been allowed to leave my room. It’s nice enough, I suppose.
To be fair, the earthen walls aren’t exactly dirty—they’re more like stucco, tightly packed and textured. But there are no windows, and the glowing mineral rocks that provide room lighting give everything an unreal, mystical quality, like we’re living in some ancient fairy tale.
The furniture here is all heavy and made of ornately carved wood. I haven’t seen a manmade fiber since we arrived. The Light Elves certainly look like the Elves from my tribe, but they act nothing like them, and where I’m so used to communicating through speech, none of them speak out loud. The ones I’ve interacted with so far have been kind, but all the mind-to-mind communication with these nature-lovers is giving me a headache.
I’ve yet to meet my groom—bad luck, Pappa says—and I suppose that’s why I’m stuck here in our assigned quarters until the ceremony, being served and pampered with pre-wedding beauty treatments and dress-fittings.
Maybe I’d actually enjoy all of it if I weren’t so desperate to speak to Ivar, to tell him about my father’s real motivation for the wedding—using me to control the heir to the Light Throne. Of course, Pappa says it’s all about uniting our people so we can join forces against the humans and claim rulership over them, to be worshipped and served by them once again as it was in the Old Days. Either way, I want no part of it.
My hope is that once Ivar knows the truth, he’ll call the arrangement off, and I’ll be free to leave and resume my search for Nox Knight.
According to what Nox’s housekeeper said, there’s still another week or two before he returns to California. That means he could be here in this very state right now—in this town even. And I’m trapped underground, wasting precious time.
The door to my room opens, and I look up from my book, jumping in guilty surprise.
Pappa strides in. “How’s my girl?” His tone is light, cheerful. His meetings today with the other tribes must have gone well.
“I’m fine, Pappa. Just bored. I’m ready to get this thing over with.”
“That doesn’t sound like an eager bride.”
I give him a sweet smile. A good-daughter smile. “You know what I mean. I haven’t even been allowed to meet him yet. My nerves are going crazy. What if we hate each other? What if he’s mean and ugly?”
Pappa chuckles. “I assure you he’s not ugly. I’ve met the young man. He seems a bit apprehensive as well, but I don’t think he’s mean.”
Hearing that my intended groom might not be all-in either gives me a jolt. It actually makes me like him a little. I guess I haven’t considered before now that he, also, might be doing this against his will or out of a sense of duty. Maybe the Light Elves aren’t so different after all.
Pappa crosses the room to the bed and runs his fingertips over the wedding dress I left wadded up there when I last pulled it off. He glances back over his shoulder at me, his eyes narrowing.
Are you excited about tomorrow?
He asked the question in the old Elven way. Which makes me nervous. He’ll expect me to answer him in similar fashion, which means lying will be impossible. Could he somehow know what I’m planning? No, there’s no way. I told no one this time. There is no one I can trust. I’m on my own—now and especially later, after I betray Pappa and tell his enemy clan what he’s really up to.
Yes, Pappa. It’s the most important day of my life. And that’s one hundred percent true. Tomorrow is the day I start standing up for myself, start doing what’s right for me instead of blindly following Pappa’s orders. My own little Independence Day.
He nods and goes to the door, leaving without another word.
I don’t like the thought of losing his love. But then, I’m not really sure I ever had it in the first place. Love is not something that’s high on his list of priorities. He’s so filled with hatred for the humans and his desire to dominate them that there’s no room in his heart for anything else.
Chapter Seventeen
Wedding Day
For the first time in my life, I feel like a princess. No less than three attendants are helping me dress, doing my hair, preparing me to marry a prince. It’s uncomfortable, and certainly unfamiliar, to be served like this. And if all goes well, it will be completely unnecessary.
Though I was born the daughter of the Dark Elf king, I never saw my parents act like royalty. They certainly didn’t raise me to behave as if I were different or somehow better than the other children I knew. But as I turn to observe myself in the full-length mirror, I definitely look different.
The white dress is made of Elven hand-spun material, light as a spider web on my skin, achingly beautiful, with a sheen that makes it seem to glow from within.
Whatever they’ve done to my hair makes its natural platinum color shimmer like moonlight. I’ve been drinking saol water straight from the source since arriving, and my skin has benefitted, also bearing the healthful, clear glow that is the hallmark of the Light Elves.
If I were a real bride and actually planning to go through with this, I’d be delighted with my wedding day look. But as things stand, it feels more like I’m all dressed up for my own funeral.
The life I’ve known will die today. My relationship with my adoptive father will die. I suppose there’s a small chance my actions could lead to my actual death. I don’t know King Ivar. Will he be so furious about the deception that he’ll react with deadly force? Could Pappa ever be angry enough with me to sentence me to death for my insubordination instead of just banishing me?
It doesn’t matt
er. I study my reflection and my jaw sets. My eyes look different now, too. They are filled with a new determination—to change my life and my destiny—or die trying.
The door to my quarters opens, and the woman in charge of ceremony planning steps in. Are you ready? she asks.
I am.
I follow her down the hall, my train flowing behind me. Will I get a chance to even meet my groom and his father before the ceremony, or will I have to announce my refusal during the actual event, in front of hundreds of witnesses? I am truly hoping it doesn’t have to happen that way. I have no wish to publicly humiliate Pappa.
I just want out. I want my own life.
The murmur of a large crowd steadily grows as we near the ballroom of the royal residence. We pass the doors, which are slightly ajar, and I get a glimpse inside. My heart flips, then flips back over again.
The space is filled with colored light, fancifully dressed people. This is a bigger event than I’d even pictured. There aren’t hundreds of witnesses, but thousands. Wonderful.
Thankfully, the wedding organizer leads me to a small sitting room near the entrance to the ballroom. I still have a few more minutes to gather my courage and make my peace with whatever may come.
Wait here.
She leaves me, and I fall into a chair in one corner, nervously running my fingertips over my freshly buffed and shined nails.
I can do this. I can do this.
I start to picture the reaction of the attending crowd when I stop the ceremony and make my shocking announcement, and then I banish the mental picture. If I think too much about the consequences, I might not go through with it.
And then I’m no longer alone.
Into the small room steps King Ivar. Suddenly, I remember him from the Assemblage ten years ago. He looks the same—all tall, square-jawed handsomeness, with dark golden curls and piercing green eyes. From the way he carries his body to the expression on his face, he epitomizes leadership. This is a king, in every way. Compared to him, Pappa seems… well, he seems less.
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