by Kara Jaynes
Beatrice's face crumples, and she begins to cry.
The prince's face twists in disgust. “I can't abide weakness,” he growls. “Stop crying.”
Beatrice cries harder, burying her face in her hands.
“Stop.” His voice is cold and hard as steel. Dangerous.
Something snaps inside of me. “You stop,” I snap, unable to stay quiet any longer. I step out of line, glaring daggers at the prince. My voice rings out in the large chamber. “Leave her alone.”
Miska and the prince are staring at me like I've sprouted horns, and everyone goes silent, even Beatrice. She's watching with red-rimmed eyes.
“What did you say?” the elven prince asks quietly. His voice is heavy with authority and menace.
I’m probably going to die now, so I’m going to say my piece. My heart hurts, it’s beating so fast. “I told you to leave her alone.”
He’s watching me like he’s seeing me for the first time, interest glittering in his eyes. He grins, his teeth gleaming. “Why?” He laughs, and it’s cold and cruel. “Why would I listen to a word you say, girl?”
“Because you’re supposed to be a ruler,” I reply. I was tongue-tied before, but not anymore. Talk of rulers makes me think of the history I studied with my parents, a subject all three of us had been happy to wax eloquent on. I knew the past. “Real leaders are individuals that their people can look up to, rulers who preside with justice and mercy. They treat their subjects with kindness and compassion. Leaders who don't are tyrants. You shouldn't mock and scorn your subjects. You’re a leader, so start acting like one. Quit being a spoiled prince who bullies those less fortunate than himself.” I scowl at him, remembering more history. “Plus, this is American soil. We’ve rejected a monarchy already. Twice. You don’t belong here.”
I hear Miska’s shocked intake of breath, but I ignore her, keeping my gaze locked on the prince. He’s still watching me, his face now completely deadpan. What is he thinking? What will he do?
The silence stretches, and suddenly the realization of what I’ve just said strikes me. I swallow, resisting the urge to blink, my eyes burning. I’m afraid. Maybe he’ll subject me to some torturous experiment for science now. But I refuse to show my fear. I won’t show it to him. Not him.
“I’m not . . . spoiled,” he says at last, tasting the word. He frowns, like he’s trying to remember what it means. “But I am strict. You humans are soft and fragile. I’m trying to help you. To toughen you up.” He takes in all of us humans with his gaze. “You know why we are here, right? The elves?” His voice changes, taking on a lecturing tone. “You stupid humans have been warring with each other for decades. Centuries.” He gives me a wry smile. “For every human ruler that ruled justly, I assure you, I can name ten who did not. You have fought against each other since nearly the dawn of your existence. And in the process of killing each other, you nearly destroyed the earth.” He juts his chin out proudly, clasping his hands behind his back. “The elves are here to restore the balance of living things, to nurture and bring back the earth from her state of grievous distress. If you want to survive to see this new era, you sure as stars, better toughen up, especially those of you who are female. You are the lifeblood of this world. You will need to be strong enough to raise the next generation, to teach them to respect and nurture the earth.”
His eyes glitter as his gaze sweeps over us. Some of the others shift uneasily. I hold my ground.
He notices, and his eyes narrow. “So. We elves have come to help restore the earth to a life-sustaining state. Most of you humans here in this room have elemental abilities. You are few and far between, out there with the rest of your civilization, but for those of you who wield magic, you will help us heal Earth and restore balance. Your magic is native to this planet and will be more effective than our elven enchantment, in this regard.”
“What if they don’t want to help?” I shoot back.
The prince arches an eyebrow at me. “I don’t hear any objections from anyone except you.”
“Well, what about me?” I press. “Can I leave?”
The prince asks Miska something in their elven tongue, and she responds in kind.
“It would seem that you were caught trash diving,” the prince says. “That is illegal. You will work here as a servant for a month and then be released back into the city. A couple of the elementals here were also caught participating in illegal activities, but they will be absolved from servant duties, as learning to control and harness their magic is far more important than anything else they could hope to contribute.”
Four weeks. I can’t stay here that long. My gaze darts about the room. I doubt I can reach the door before I’m caught, but I do see a long dagger, sitting on the desk. My breath quickens as my gaze slides to the window, a desperate plan forming in my mind.
“Miska. Take those with magic to their new accommodations. Guards,” he calls, and the door opens behind us. “Take this girl to a cell.”
No. I know if they take me, I won’t get back to Quinn. I can’t wait that long. Lyra’s a Drifter. She won’t stay for a whole month.
I leap past the prince and sprawl over the desk, papers flying as my fingers wrap around the hilt of the dagger. I ignore the startled screams of some of the girls and the boy's shout as I wrench the blade free of its sheath. I whirl around to face the prince. He doesn’t react, his face impassive, and that scares me more than the angry explosion I’d expected.
“Back off,” I snarl. “I’m not staying here any longer.”
The elf continues to watch me. “That was an extremely foolish move, girl.”
“Quit calling me that,” I snap. “I’m leaving.” I edge backward. I plan to break the window behind me. But he's so close. I will only have a moment to make my escape.
“You’ve just extended your stay by another four weeks, I’m afraid. We can’t have such an emotionally unstable woman roaming the streets.”
Overwhelming horror courses through me at his words. I’ve been abducted. I have to escape, or I may never see Quinn again. I spin and leap at the large window, intending to shatter the glass. I don’t bother to try to attack the prince. I can’t kill him, anyway. I’ve never killed anyone in my life.
His movements are fluid as he intercepts and disarms me in less than a second. The blade clatters to the floor as he twists my arm behind me at an angle that makes me yell. “Idiotic, but brave,” he says. “Maybe we can find a use for your grit.”
His long, pale fingers clamp around my other wrist, and an electric jolt shudders through me at his touch.
The prince inhales sharply and spins me around, our gazes locking. “What have you done?” he whispers. His carefully placed mask of no-emotion is gone. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring, the all-powerful elven prince trembles.
I stare back, my mind stumbling through a confusing fog of sudden attraction. This man is gorgeous, the most beautiful individual I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d been aware of the fact that he was handsome before, but now, it’s as if the rest of the world has grown dull and lifeless in comparison to his masculine glory.
I blink and shake my head, pushing the feeling away. No. Stop being stupid, Stella. What is wrong with me? I’ve only just met him. You don't like him, remember?
“What did you do to me?” the prince whispers. He’s staring at me like he’s never seen a woman before. “You . . . we’re . . .” He swallows hard, clearly rattled by something. Exhaling, the prince regains his composure. His eyes narrow.
“You’re coming with me,” he says.
6
Stella
Without releasing his grip on my wrist, the prince strides out of the room, and I have no choice but to follow. I try to free myself from his hold, but it’s like trying to break an iron shackle.
Waves of panic wash over me as I try to pull free, still stumbling after him. Stars help me, what’s going to happen? What did I say? What did I do? I think about the dagger. I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t I
wait for a better time to escape? Is he going to kill me?
We walk down halls and a flight of stairs as different scenarios flash through my mind, each one more traumatic than the last.
“Let go of me!” I kick him hard in the shin. The elf laughs, and scoops me up into his arms, never slowing his stride.
“I was delightfully wrong about you.” He lowers his head, his nose grazing my cheekbone. “Stars, you smell good.”
I stare at him, momentarily stunned by what he said. “I smell like a dumpster,” I say. “I’m a street rat. I trash dive, sell metal scraps and whatever else I find that might be of value. I’m a nobody.”
He arches a dark brow, smirking. “Your scent might be filthy on the surface, but underneath that layer of grime and dirt, I can smell you, human. The Kenelky’s begun. We’re a perfect match.”
My mind whirls as I grapple with the meaning of his words. They don’t make sense. A perfect match? Kenelky? “What are you talking about?”
The elf turns a sharp corner and opens a final door, leading into a large room. I see a four-poster bed and a massive wardrobe. Bedchambers. I glance up at the prince, confusion mixing with alarm. “Whose room is this? Why did you bring me here?”
He gently sets me down, and turning, locks the door, slipping the key into his trousers pocket. Escape is now out of the question. Even if he hadn’t locked the door, he’s standing in front of it. There’s no way I can get out.
The prince watches me, a gleam in his eye. “I didn’t know humans were capable of the Kenelky,” he says, his voice breathless. “This is indeed a surprise.” He cocks his head. “This could very well be a historical event.” Shyness creeps into his gaze, and he holds his arms out to me, tentatively. A small smile curves his lips.
The same attraction I’d felt before is back in full force. I stare at the elf, again aware of how overwhelmingly beautiful he is. He’s unbelievably tall and broad shouldered. His face is angular with high cheekbones. And his eyes. Gorgeous. He’s utterly and completely perfect. Why couldn’t I see that before? Everything anyone has said about the elves is a lie. How can they be evil? How can he be evil?
He’s still holding his arms out, and I rush into them. He crushes my body to his, our mouths meeting eagerly.
My world is spinning. Past and future melt away, and I forget everything except the elf holding me in iron-strong arms. He lifts me off the floor, still kissing me with feverish intensity.
I reach up and caress his face, fingers tangling in his hair. His long, beautiful, black hair. I feel like I’m drowning, and his mouth is the only way to receive air.
Stars, you’re plain. I’m glad I’m not searching for a human consort.
The elf’s words from earlier echo through my mind, and with a gasp, I pull away from him. The fog of attraction ebbs, leaving me disoriented and shaking.
No.
I push him away, my face twisting. “Get away from me.” Humiliation mixes with rage. Tears build, but I refuse to cry. Not in front of him. “Let me go.” Why did he do this? Was it to mock me?
He stares back, his face puzzled. His lips quirk in a bemused smile. “You don’t mean that.” He leans in for another kiss.
“Get away!” I slap the prince as hard as I can, and he releases me, stepping away to put distance between us.
“What is the matter?” he asks, his voice a blend of confusion and irritation. “What is wrong?” His gray eyes crease in puzzlement.
“You’re what’s wrong!” I snarl, stumbling away from him. My eyes dart around, trying to find an escape. The door is still locked, and he’s standing in front of it, but there’s a window. I run to open it, shaking the confusion that fogs my mind. What’s the matter with me?
“There’s nothing wrong,” he says. He’s standing perfectly still, watching me curiously. His hair is disheveled, and his jacket is rumpled, giving him a rakish look despite his now guarded demeanor.
Flinging the window open, I peer out. It’s too far to jump. I’d break my neck. But there’s a ledge under it, and a pipe near that, running all the way to the ground. I can shimmy down it.
“What are you doing?” the elf asks.
“I refuse to play your game.” I climb out of the window, dropping onto the ledge. My sneakers slip on the stone, and I frantically grip the shelf with my hands. Inhaling shakily, I creep forward.
“Stop.” The anger in his voice makes my heart skitter with fear, but I ignore him and inch closer to the pipe. He’s stuck his head out, the wind whipping his dark hair about. He glares at me. “This isn’t a game. Come back.”
“No.” I reach out to the old drainpipe, fingers wrapping around the cold, rusted metal.
“I command you,” he says coldly.
I test my weight and, wrapping my hands and legs around it, prepare to slip down. I cast one last look at the prince. “You’ll have to catch me.”
He has a glint in his gray eyes, and a smile pulls at his lips. “Ah. So, you’re playing a game,” he says softly. “Very well. Challenge accepted.” He ducks his head back in and is gone.
7
Stella
I stare at the now empty window, the curtains waving in the breeze. My heart is thundering like a car’s engine. I expect an alarm to sound, but it doesn’t. I slide down the pipe, wincing as it squeaks and sways under my weight. All of these renovations, and they never replaced this pipe.
Landing heavily on the ground, I set off at a dead run, glancing down at my now rust-stained jeans. I’ve seen worse.
Run, Stella. If I can just make it to the entrance, I’ll have a much better chance of escape. If I can make it to the harbor or the marketplace, the elves will be hard pressed to find me in the press of people and tents. I need to make it beyond the fence and hide; then I can make my way back home. And money or no money, I'm never trash diving here again.
The prince comes sprinting out of nowhere, his midnight hair tousled about his face, his eyes gleaming with triumph. I try to outrun him, but it’s a stupidly useless endeavor. He catches me in seconds and scoops me up. Retreating to the side of one of the manicured hedges in the yard, he sets me down and grips me by the shoulders. “I win,” he whispers. His nose grazes my throat, his breath deepening.
I instinctively shy away from him, mentally pushing away the overwhelming attraction I once again feel for him. My head knows that doesn’t make sense. I don’t even know him. “Please stop,” I mumble.
He jerks away, looking down at me in shock. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “You . . . you shouldn’t want to ask me that.” He squares his shoulders, his steely gaze sparking with determination as he lightly strokes my cheek with a finger. “You aren’t . . . you don’t feel it?”
I flinch from his touch, shaking my head.
“No,” he breathes. He steps away from me, his eyes turning wild. “This shouldn’t be possible. It isn’t possible.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Stars, what happens now?”
I begin to edge away from him and he notices. He grabs my wrist again. “Come with me.”
I have zero interest in going with him, but his mood has changed completely. His movements are still fluid and graceful, but nothing is threatening or overbearing in the way he acts. When he looks at me, he seems genuinely worried.
I focus on breathing: inhale and exhale. I’m so confused, and I’m halfway convinced this is a bizarre dream, except the press of fingers that encircle my wrist is all too real.
He takes me back to his rooms, but he doesn’t kiss me this time. He stands in front of the door, his arms folded across his chest as he studies me. He shed his jacket at some point but still wears a waistcoat and long-sleeved, button-up shirt. I notice the fabric is tighter about his shoulders, and I look away.
The silence stretches until I can bear it no longer. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You’re a puzzle to me,” he replies. He doesn’t elaborate, and the silence settles in the room again.
“What
do you mean?” I look back again. He hasn’t moved, the same pensive look on his face.
“You resist the Kenelky,” he says, frustration painting his voice. “It isn’t possible. How do you do it?”
“What’s the Kenelky?”
His head tilts, still watching me. “There isn’t a word for it in your language, not really.” He chews the inside of his cheek, brow lowered in a puzzled scowl. “The closest word you humans have for it is ‘connection,’ or ‘bond.’ You and I share the Kenelky. It’s a—an unseen force, of sorts. We’re bound to each other. You are mine, and I am yours. We’re attracted to each other.” Worry etches his gaze again. “But you resist. How can this happen?”
“You have it wrong,” I say. “I am not attracted to you.”
His expression turns smug for a brief moment. “You’re lying.”
I look away again. My ears are burning. “Fine,” I growl. “You’re handsome. But that isn’t enough for me to want to share some connection, or whatever you’re talking about. I don’t even know you.”
“Ah.” The elf sounds relieved. “So, you just need to get to know me better.”
My nose wrinkles. “Actually, that might make it worse. What does the Kenelky entail, exactly?”
“We’re mates. For life.” He shrugs. “For your life, anyway. Once you die, which will probably be within the next eighty or so years, I will be able to Kenelky, or bond, with someone else.”
I blink. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious.” The near-panic is in his eyes again. “Why do you resist? That’s never happened before, ever. Once the Kenelky begins, both parties involved bond for life. Always. There’s no arguing with nature.” He exhales heavily and folds his arms. “Believe me, if I had a choice, I would have picked a proper elf woman, not you.”
