Claiming the Prince: Book One (27 page)

“Kirk left those for you,” he said, lifting his chin towards a set of clothes and boots sitting on the hearth. “He said you should dress like a proper
Ljósálfr
or you’ll be laughed out of the Spire before you have a chance to challenge Lavana. Also, he said, you should bathe.”

She sniffed, her nose wrinkling. “He’s right. I stink.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. His attention dropped again to his weaving.

“He went to check in with his master,” he said. “There’s some food here.”

He picked up a basket from beside him and held it out to her. She took it and flipped up the top. Grabbing a hunk of brown bread, she devoured it in seconds.

“You shouldn’t eat so quickly,” he said, “if you haven’t eaten in a while, which I assume you haven’t.”

She gulped down another cup of water. “I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve gotten too thin,” he said as if thinking aloud.

She smirked as she pulled an apple from the basket. “Put a couple of pizzas in front of me and I’ll gain it all back, I promise.”

“You don’t look healthy,” he said, stern.

The flesh of the apple was soft, but the sweet singing flavor remained. She slumped back against the wall, relishing the sugar buzzing over her tongue and the sticky juice on her lips. She chomped a few more bites before returning her attention to Kaelan. He had twisted around and was weaving the patch he’d constructed into a bare spot on the wall, where dirt and roots had poked through, mending the hut that clearly had not been tended with any real care for some time.

“How are you?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder. His face was somber, his eyes violet-shadowed, sleepless. He turned back to securing the patch into the wall.

“I’ve made a decision,” he stated.

“And that is?”

“I’m going with you. I will help you become Radiant.”

She took another bite of the apple, chewing slowly, before she asked, “And then?”

His hands stopped knotting the branches together. His jaw touched his shoulder as he looked at her. “Do you love him?”

Apple flesh lodged in her throat.

He turned those sharp green eyes back to the wall, weaving more slowly. “I know you miss him.”

“I don’t even know him.” Her stomach heaved as if it might push out all the bread and apple she’d just eaten.

He made an indistinct noise.

The juice of the apple dripped over her fingers.

“What do you think peace means, Kaelan?” she asked.

He finished the patch and shifted around, facing her again, hooking his arms around his knees. “Peace for Alfheim or peace for me?”

“Are they different?” she asked.

His head tilted. His gaze turned up towards the ceiling as he seemed to ponder the question. “I don’t know. I suppose the only way I’ll know peace now is if there’s peace in Alfheim.” His eyes fell back to her. “Now, that I am a Prince.”

“You’ve always been a Prince. You just didn’t know it.”

He ran his hand over his palm as if attempting to read his own future in the lines there. “And I am the Prince who is meant to bring war.” His smile was rueful. “To make the Elf King bow before me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Do you want to be Radiant?”

“I want to go back to my tiny, messy trailer, live on take-out pizza and convenience store muffins, and spend my days idle on the beach.” She plunked the half-eaten apple on top of the basket. “But what I want doesn’t matter. I have a responsibility to the Lands and the small folk. When I was forced into exile, in shame, I thought my life was over. Now that I’ve returned, all I want is to go back.”

“Was it so much better there?”

She shrugged. “In the mortal world, I grew soft and weak and lazy. I was poor and selfish.” She fanned her fingers. The carved figures of her sheaths caught the growing light slipping through the hole in the ceiling. “For a time, I hated myself, what I had become, my failure. But now, I look back on who I was before, so hard and cold and driven and arrogant . . . I feel sorry for that girl, her self-righteousness, her pride. She thought that spilling blood was better than compromise, than showing weakness, than yielding. But now I am back and everything is the same. Here I am, turning hard and cold and . . . killing. I’m becoming her again and I hate it, and yet, I don’t know how to stop it.”

He leaned back against his patch. If the new branches hadn't been so much darker, fresher, it would’ve been impossible to tell where the patch started and the old weaving began.

“I keep telling myself that I won’t change,” he said. “That I can help you. That I can be a Prince, even an Elf, and still be who I always was.” A wavy swath of golden hair fell over his eyes as his head bowed. “But . . . my mother always told me that the things that do not grow are things that are dead. I would rather risk changing myself for a just cause, than cling to the past and serve no one.”

“That’s a noble thought,” she said. “But I can’t promise you that helping me is a just cause. You might be better served remaining with your family, with Honey, and defending them there, than coming with me to the Spire. The King will be hunting you, and Endreas . . .”—her chest hitched—“wants you dead. The oracles think that you will somehow bring about a war. Maybe helping me is how that happens.” Her voice lowered and hardened as she thought about Endreas. “Staying with me might put you in greater danger.”

“And would a war not be just?” he asked. “After the crimes the King has perpetrated?”

Her head fell back against the wall. “One man’s crime is another man’s just cause.”

“Then you don’t want my help—”

She leaned forward. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s not about what I want anymore. I need you. It’s not as though I’m likely to find any other willing Princes, no matter how many dungeons I get myself thrown into. And I
am
going to vie for Radiant.”

“But not because you want to?”

“That girl inside of me, the Rae, wants it, as much as she always did, but me? I just want a feta cheese, green olive, and pineapple pizza.”

“You talk about pizza a lot.”

“I like to eat.”

“It must be very good.”

“The best.”

“And what about him?”

She wasn’t thrown by his abrupt change in topic, only saddened. “His name is Endreas.”

Kaelan’s eyes narrowed. “What will
he
do?”

“Kirk didn’t tell you about the other prophecy?”

“About uniting the Lands in peace? It will never happen. The King will never rule equally with the Crown.”

Although she tended to agree, she asked, “You don’t think you might be biased?”

“You mean because the King tried to kill me, his own son? Yes, I’m biased.”

“I’m glad you see that.”

“It doesn’t change my opinion. You don’t intend on allowing it, do you?”

“You mean, joining with the King? Should I somehow manage to take the Crown?”

“Would you?”

She clenched and unclenched her hands, feeling their strength and their weakness. “If I were the Crown, I would do whatever I thought best for my Lands and for everyone in them.”

He leaned forward. “I know your heart, Magda. I’ve felt it. You’re not like Lavana, and I’m guessing that you’re not like the other Raes either. That’s what Alfheim needs now, something different. Things have to change or there will only be more death.”

“Isn’t death what you want? Don’t you agree with Python that there needs to be war?”

“Do you think the King will stop hunting me if I ask nicely? What does Endreas say? Is he ready to welcome me into the family if I promise not to fulfill the prophecy they so dread?”

She chewed her lip, her heart sinking.

“What other choice do I have?” he asked. “Please, tell me. I’m not a warrior. I was raised an imp. But you can’t ask me not to defend myself or my family or my home. I have to try.”

“I know, but I’m not sure you’re prepared for what that means.”

His brow furrowed, his head hung. “You’re worried that you will have to protect me again?”

“I
will
have to protect you again,” she said, “but that doesn’t worry me. What worries me is that I might fail.”

The air grew heavy. Neither of them looked at the other.

“Are we friends, Magda?” he asked finally.

“By no fault of our own,” she said with a feeble smile.

He smiled and shifted, leaning towards the door and meeting her eye. “I will bring you more water, because as your friend, I have to tell you, you really do smell awful.”

She snatched up her half-eaten apple and lobbed it at him. “Get out of here.”

A hoarse, ringing scream of a bird echoed through the earthen walls.

G
UR REMAINED
sprawled on the ground, but his tail flicked restively as he watched the new arrivals.

Damion embraced her and then pushed her away. “You reek,” he said.

“I’m aware,” Magda chuckled. “How did you find us?”

Honey, still on the roc’s back, gave the beast’s neck a hug. “Anqa found you. She saw your rat out in the meadow. She has very keen eyes.”

Damion gave Honey a dull, glazed sort of look, then turned back to Magda. “What happened to you?”

“Why don’t I let Kaelan explain?” she said. “I’m told I need to bathe.”

Honey continued to sit astride the bird, who was eyeing Gur with equal suspicion. “Oh yes, I can smell you from here,” the nymph chimed in.

Magda held up her hands in surrender. “All right! I’m going.”

“There’s a stream down that way,” Kaelan said, turning away from Honey and Damion and falling into step with her as she turned back. “I can show you.”

“I think I can find it,” she said. “Please, fill Damion in on everything while I’m gone, all right?”

He nodded, but his brow curved low over his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked with a sigh.

“I just hate it,” he said. “The way she is now.”

He turned and strode back to Damion, who was tapping his foot, arms crossed, face dark.

Magda ducked into the hut and grabbed the clothes and a hunk of soap that had been left beside them.

After she had trekked down to the stream and scrubbed the layers of dirt and blood away, she stretched out in a sunny patch to dry off.

“Are you napping?” Damion barked, tromping down the hillside.

“I was,” she said, not opening her eyes.

His shadow fell over her, stealing the warmth that had been sinking into her skin. She’d forgotten how much she missed the feel of the sun’s touch on her. In California, she had taken it for granted.

“Get dressed,” he said. “We should leave immediately.”

She propped up on her elbows, blowing out a heavy breath. “I know.”

She grabbed the trousers and pulled them on as she stood. They were well-fitted. Leave it to a brownie to know a girl’s exact measurements without having to ask. The fabric was soft, linen and wool, dyed dark brown. A thin tunic of gold was covered with a heavier vest that cinched along the sides and at the shoulders, cupping her breasts and giving them support. Heavy canvas boots with woven soles itched at her bare feet as she wound the laces around her shins and over her knees, knotting them. It was so familiar and yet so alien. All the while, Damion was grumbling.

“Tell me what happened with
him
,” he asked as she wound the linen around her wrists, securing the loose ends of her sleeves.

“Nothing happened,” she said.

“Would you tell me if something had?” he asked.

“What do you think, hm? That I had sex with him? So what if I did? What would it matter?”

“Don’t try to dismiss this,” he said. “Wasn’t it bad enough that we had one Elf Prince to deal with, but now two? Brothers no less. What are we going to do?”

“Just as we planned,” she said, tying the wrappings a bit too tight. “Go to the Spire. Lay claim to our family, vie for Radiant if need be. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“And you’re going to allow an Elf to come with us?”

“No one knows that Kaelan is an Elf.”

“It seems to me that quite a few people know.”

“Assuming that anyone from Froenz’s hall survived the battle and the dragon attack, do you really think they would cross all the way into Pixie Lands and to the Spire? No one needs to know who he really is.”

“We know.”

“You’re right. We do. He’s a Prince. He’s willing to help us. We need him, Damion. You know that.”

“You are afraid to fight,” he said, shaking his head. “What has happened to you?”

“I forgot who I was,” she said.

The scars on his face twitched and curved as his jaw clenched and worked. “Clearly.”

“Have you lost faith in me, coz?” she asked.

His mouth pressed tightly, and his arms dropped away from his chest. “No . . . but you’re right.”

She finished the other wrapping, retrieving her knives, incomplete as they were. She stepped back, holding her arms wide. “Well?”

He looked her up and down. “You’re starting to look like your old self again.” His face softened. “If you need more rest . . .”

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, I do. I need a lifetime of rest, but we should go. The longer we stay, the more chance there is that Lavana will convince the Crown to make her Radiant before the year is up.”