“Keep singing,” I heard myself say, pleading. “Keep singing.”
But they’d stopped listening to me. They’d turned away, and I saw they were looking at the Emperor. He stood before me, illuminated by moonlight. His dark hair fell to his neck, his green eyes on me.
Was he beautiful? I hadn’t noticed it before. Had I been with someone more beautiful…? I couldn’t remember his name now. He wasn’t important.
“Emperor,” I heard myself shout as though from a distance, “make the fairies sing again!”
“May I dance with you?”
I smiled. “As much as you’d like.”
Was I flirting with him? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I just wanted to keep dancing. To listen to the fairy song.
The Emperor moved across the circle as if in slow motion, never taking his eyes off me. Now, the fairies swirled around him like a beautiful, glowing, glistening cloak.
In seconds, he was by my side, his hand at my waist. At that moment, my legs gave way, and I sank into him. The fairies surrounded us.
I could hear them whispering, “You’ve won the Emperor. You’ve won the Emperor.”
I was victorious!
They begin to sing again, a new song I didn’t know, but it was beautiful, and the Emperor spun me around as we danced, his hand firm on my hip. He was grinning at me like the cat who got the cream. But I’d won him, hadn’t I?
And he was… I wanted him.
No. No, not him.
There was something… something rotten about this.
The fairy singing grew louder, until it drowned out my own thoughts. The Emperor gripped me by the waist and pressed himself to me. I could feel his firm grip on my lower back, his hips moving against me.
My heart was beating fast, but he was the wrong one.
Insistent, the music throbbed. The wings of a thousand tiny fairies, beating in unison.
I turned, and then I saw him. The right one—Marroc. His name came back to me, and he stared at me with ice-blue eyes. Even from here, I felt the pulse of his seductive magic rippling over my skin. That one. He might be a lich, but I was safe with him, and his beauty was like a blade right to my heart.
“Help me,” I tried to say, but no words came out. I couldn’t speak. I could only sing with the fairies.
The Emperor swung me around the fire toward the table. It was empty of food now—the fairies had consumed every morsel, every bite of sustenance. Only bones remained.
Then he pushed them aside, pressing me onto the wood. His breath was hot on my neck. He licked my cheek, whispering, “You will be the mother of my children.”
Nausea rose in my gut. “No!” I tried to fight him, but my body was not my own, and I was compliant in his hands.
Marroc’s eyes were fixed on mine, burning with rage. It wouldn’t kill him to step in here, would it?
Then I saw the dozens of cords binding him. Ahh…
Well, I was the North Star, and I could find a way to save myself. I’d bring Skalei through this man’s neck.
I just needed to think clearly under this haze of music and dancing and confusion.
“You are mine,” whispered the Emperor in my ear. “I will never let you go.”
Oh, I would enjoy killing him.
But with that phrase, those words, a distant memory sparked in my mind. Something important.
Never let you go.
Tiny fairies bobbed and weaved and danced around us, singing the Emperor’s song. Vainly, I tried to struggle, but his grip was like iron.
And as the look of rage on Marroc’s features faded, he looked like he was weakening somehow. He was under an enchantment of his own.
“I will never let you go,” said the Emperor again, his voice raspy with desire. His hand was on my thigh, pushing up my dress.
And then I remembered. It was like that song that Marroc hated.
In my mind, I implored the fairies, Sing Rick Roll.
Chapter 31
Marroc
Through the fire and smoke, Ali stared at me, her expression fierce. But she seemed so distant, and fog clouded my mind. I’d wanted to get up and rip off the Emperor’s head, but the ropes were enchanted with a magic too powerful even for me. And worse, they weakened me.
At my feet, the pixies danced, even as they tossed more of their magical cords over me, binding me tighter and tighter. The bonds wrapped around me like a cocoon. A magical sleep crept over my mind like a blanket of night.
Distantly, I could hear the voices of the fairies, but they were fading. Quiet and pleasant. And even as I closed my eyes, I knew there was nothing I could do. The Emperor had won.
But then the fairies launched into a new song, a tune that cut through my mind like a sword dipped in acid. No, it was worse than that. This was like claws on stone, like a perpetually squealing tire.
Who in their right mind would tell the fairies to sing Rick Astley?
And then my mind cleared. The spell of sleep had shattered.
My eyes focused, but the pixie ropes still bound me. I strained against them, but they were strong as steel.
I snarled with rage at the sight of the Emperor pressing Ali to the wooden dining table. His head turned slowly toward me, his lips curled into a broad smile.
Incandescent rage coursed through me.
Because of the curse, when my emotions got out of control, I burned. My body turned hot and fiery. And right now, I was incendiary. Fiery hot, the curse poured into me like molten steel from a crucible, ten thousand degrees boiling and incandescent like the surface of the sun. I was burning—but so were the ropes.
Freed, I burst into the air. The Emperor’s hand was at his belt.
Howling with rage, I charged through the bonfire as if it were only a guttering candle. With one hand, I tore him off Ali. I lifted him into the air by the throat. I’d be ripping that open in a moment.
Gasping, eyes wild, he stared at me, skin blistering under the heat of my grip.
A strangled shout: “Help!”
Hunger tore through me. How would the soul of an Emperor taste? I brought him closer, ready to plunge my teeth into his skin.
But, like a lightning bolt, Ali streaked past me. Her dagger was in the Emperor’s heart before I got the chance to taste him.
I spun, hurling his body into the bonfire.
Vanir warriors charged from the forest, pointing wands at us.
Hearing a warning shout from Ali, I spun round as spells whipped through the air. Driven by instinct, I covered her body with mine.
Chapter 32
Ali
Marroc crouched over me as spells and hexes whizzed through the darkness. The fairies scattered, and I curled in on myself, pulling my knees to my chest. Marroc’s massive frame absorbed the damage, and after what seemed like an eternity, the guards’ wands ran low and the spells stopped.
Marroc rose above me like a conquering god, soaked in an Emperor’s blood. Still clutching Skalei, I stood next to him. Before I could say a word, he wrapped his arms around me, his body still warm. He lifted me, and I clung to his neck. As he broke into a run, the piney air whipped over us.
Part of me hated the thought of being carried by a High Elf—like I was a damsel in distress. But the other knew he was far faster than me, and this was the smartest option.
He ran nearly as fast as the hexes, but a spell arced toward us. Marroc dodged away from it, picking up speed as he raced past the Vanir warriors, beyond the stone circle, and into the forest.
Moving like smoke in a storm, we raced between the trees. Despite his speed, his movements were smooth. A welcoming darkness closed around us as we wove between the trunks of the primordial trees, great boughs hiding the moon.
Exhausted, I closed my eyes, pressing my face closer to Marroc’s chest. He ran like a stag, untiring, his legs flying over the thick carpet of pine needles and brushing past ferns.
Then, distantly, I heard a sound that chilled me to my core. Far away, but clear nonethe
less, an eerie keening rose. It sounded like hounds. The Emperor’s men were hunting us—and we still didn’t know how to get out of here.
I felt Marroc’s muscles tense, and he rushed faster through the forest, but the dogs kept calling for us as they followed our scent.
“Marroc,” I said, “we need to find a stream. We can use water to hide our scent.”
But it seemed like he already knew what I had in mind, and he began heading downhill, to a low-lying area. The forest thickened; the tree trunks grew larger than I’d imagined. Still, Marroc dodged effortlessly between them. I kept my arms tight around his neck, breathing in the scent of wood smoke and sage.
Now, he wasn’t hot at all. He was nearly cool to the touch, his breath coming smoothly and rhythmically. When I first heard his feet slosh in water, I nearly cried out with joy, but the crying of the hounds, closer than before, silenced me.
We were running through the center of a brook. Bows and branches slapped into my exposed back. I had hoped the water would confuse the hounds, but they kept coming, growing steadily louder. Clearly, there must be some sort of magic at play.
We ran for what seemed like miles.
At last, the rays of dawn began to break through the trees. Holy smokes. How long had I been dancing for?
Around us, the forest was thinning. And beyond it, Vanaheim’s golden plains stretched like an endless sea.
“We can’t go out there,” I whispered to Marroc. “They’ll be able to see us. We’ll be visible for miles.”
The stream followed the edge of the forest for a few more miles, then spilled out onto the plain. There wasn’t any other choice, and yet this seemed like death.
We plunged into the ocean of golden grass. Marroc ran yard after yard, his breath even. He crossed the stream a few more times, trying to confuse the dogs.
Lifting my head from his chest, I looked over his shoulder to the edge of the forest. Dread gripped me as huge beasts emerged from the trees. Not hounds, but boars nearly the size of horses—with black fur.
They could see us now, squealing and crying. Vanir warriors mounted on horseback moved among them.
“Marroc, where are we going? How do we get out of here?”
Of course, he couldn’t answer. He turned sharply back toward the water. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the stream had widened into a small river.
We charged into it, water spraying around us, and Marroc let me go. We both started to swim in the cool water, though I still had no idea what the end game was. Only that the giant boars now lined the riverbanks. They tracked us, calling for the horsemen.
In the water, I heard a new sound I couldn’t place, a distant roar like unending thunder.
The first spell hit a wave next to us with a sharp, sizzling pop. Instantly, Marroc grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me under. Above me, through the swirling water, I could see the distorted shapes of the dogs and horses, and on them the dark shapes of men, wands raised.
Their spells fizzled against the water’s surface like mighty raindrops. I tried to stay underwater as long as possible as the river began to churn with killing hexes. But my lungs burned; pain spread through my chest.
Death below and death above. I was going to drown if I didn’t get a breath.
I rose above the surface to gasp for air, and a spell burned my cheek. I plunged under again, desperate for more air.
But the water was rushing now, and we twisted and tumbled like flotsam in a storm.
Again, my head broke free. The boars and horsemen were gone, replaced by rocky cliffs and the thunderous roar of what I now understood was a waterfall.
Chapter 33
Marroc
When I spotted the sharp cliff and the waterfall before us, fear speared my chest. The river was raging out of control, the waters carrying us along and spinning us around. I kicked my legs, fighting against the currents, but they were supernaturally strong.
Whatever happened, I didn’t want to lose Ali. I grabbed her to me, pulling her close with one arm.
A rock rose in front of us, large as an elephant. We slammed into it, but before I could grab it, we’d already bounced off. We spun again, and I saw another boulder. This time, I was able to hold on to it, but only for an instant. Slick with mud, my hands slid off. With water rushing around us, the waves swept us back into the seething river, churning us under this time.
And through it all, I felt her soul next to mine—a golden ray of light beaming from her body. It was like some of her memories were spilling into me: Ali as a child, painting on the walls of a dark cavern by the light of candles. A female Night Elf spun a lantern carved with animal shapes, her eyes bright as she told a story. She looked like Ali. Her mother, maybe.
Then Ali stood by the bed of the same woman, but the woman’s eyes were no longer bright. Now, her face was gaunt, lips dry and blistered. She whispered something, and it sounded like leidarstjarna—the North Star. The lodestar and the guiding light. But the air smelled of illness, and blood spattered the sheets where she’d been coughing. And I felt the heartbreak, felt it shattering…
How could I feel these things again?
The dead couldn’t truly care for anyone.
The visions faded, and I was back in the currents, clinging to Ali. Using all the strength in my body, I kicked to the surface. Around us, the river had turned into white foam. No up and no down. Just spinning, just froth.
It was too late.
No matter what I did, we were going to go over the edge. I felt Ali’s fingers tighten on mine, and I wrapped my arm more tightly around her. The sound of the water and the sound of thunderclaps deafened me as we were swept over the lip and dropped into an abyss.
Something like fear hammered on the inside of my skull.
Weightless, I couldn’t see anything but bubbles as we twisted around and around, falling. I gripped Ali as tightly as she was holding me.
We plunged faster through the water until we hit the bottom in a deafening crush of spray and churning water.
The impact was bruising. We were immediately thrust under, darkness closing around us. I spun upside down, disoriented, kicking and fighting, trying to make my way to the surface.
At last, I broke free, but the river had torn Ali from my grasp.
My thoughts went nearly blank with panic, and I craned my neck to look for her silver hair. But I saw only churning foam, and the river was still carrying me. Slick stone arched above me as the current pulled me into a cavern. Narrowing rapidly, the river became a thunderous torrent.
I tried to call Ali to me, forgetting for a moment that I had no voice.
Worse came as the cave walls closed in and darkness descended. I could barely tell up from down, much less left from right. Kicking and thrashing took all my energy as I fought to stay at the surface.
It was only when the water began to slow that I could swim out of the main current, and found myself drifting in an eddy. I dove under the water again, kicking my legs, swimming toward what I hoped was a shallower part of the underground river.
It was pitch black. I growled in frustration, and the noise echoed eerily in the darkness.
At last, my foot touched the bottom. Slimy river stones. I tried to stand, nearly slipping. I growled again, louder this time, but I heard no answer.
A sharp ache was splitting my chest open, but I wouldn’t admit to myself that I’d lost her.
And yet, apart from the sound of lapping water, only silence greeted me.
Chapter 34
Ali
I floated in the darkness, my Night Elf eyes adjusting. The rapids had slowed, and the water expanded into an underground lake. Here, a gray stone ceiling arched twenty feet above my head. Pockmarked with dark holes and crevices, it looked like the moon seen from Earth. I wondered what sort of geologic processes had created its strange appearance.
I shivered in the icy water, my teeth chattering. I needed to find some place warm and dry. Fatigue seared my muscles.
As if on cue, I spotted a dark shape a hundred yards away, sitting on a rocky island in the cavern. As I swam toward it, I smelled the familiar scent of sage and wood smoke. Relief flooded me. Marroc was alive, which meant we could find a way out of here together.
“Marroc?” I called out. “I’m over here!”
I swam as fast as my aching muscles would allow. As I neared the island, I saw him standing on the shoreline. Tall, with his impossibly broad shoulders, he stood silhouetted against the inky darkness of the shadowy cavern. Despite his distinctly large shape, immediately I knew it wasn’t Marroc. The scent of wood smoke had faded now.
My stomach clenched. This man had the golden hair of a High Elf.
“Who are you?” I asked, swimming in place.
He crossed to the water, almost gliding over the stones. He was beautiful. Honeyed hair, golden, luminous skin, and eyes as blue as shadows in an ice cave. His body seemed to emit light. “I’m here for you, Ali.”
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
He didn’t answer that question.
Why would a High Elf be here? He didn’t look wet, his hair drifting gently in a subterranean breeze.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“You must be freezing.” He held out a hand to me. “Come join me. I have dry clothes. I can warm you up.”
He looked familiar, I realized. The golden hair, the luminous skin, the long silver robes. I’d seen him before. At first, I thought it must have been at the Citadel. Was he one of the elves who’d shown up for the spectacle of my execution?
Then I realized it was far, far worse than that. He was the one I needed to kill.
He was Galin. The sorcerer. The one who’d imprisoned the Night Elves under the ground. The one I’d sworn to kill. The one I hated with every fiber of my being.
Cursed Prince (Night Elves Trilogy Book 1) Page 12
