A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(100)

“I can’t change him, Rinni.” I shrug as if the weight of the world isn’t pulling on my shoulders. If Rinni believes I don’t care, maybe Eldas will too, then maybe I will. And somehow this unbearable spot I’m in might become easier.

She blinks, startled. “I’m not asking or expecting you to. He was changing himself because he believed he could be a man worthy of love—your love.”

I can’t take her words. I don’t want to hear them from her. I wanted to hear them from Eldas. No, I didn’t want to hear them at all. It’s impossible, we can’t love each other. Not under these circumstances, not so quickly.

But what do I know about love? What have I ever known about love? Nothing, and that’s why I messed this up so badly.

I need to return to what I understand and what won’t hurt me—my duty.

“Sorry, Rinni, I think you might be mistaken. But I don’t really have time to discuss it. The days are getting cooler and I have work to do. Hook, come along.”

Rinni stares listlessly at me as I start toward my room. She eventually shadows behind me, but I can tell it’s only out of obligation. She doesn’t say anything else as I tuck myself away to plot and work.

I hope she ends up taking Eldas’s side…he needs her a lot more than I do now.

Eldas doesn’t speak to me for three days. By the fourth, he breaks the silence with a letter. Four simple, emotionless lines, nothing more.



It looks like it will snow again soon.

My kingdom needs you to sit on the throne, or break the cycle.

Which will it be?

How much longer until you’re done and gone?





Done and gone. He wants to wash his hands of me. Rinni was wrong; he doesn’t want love any more than I do. We’re not built for love. We were made to focus on our work.

So that’s what I do.

On the fifth day I’m up in the laboratory, Willow is with me, stealing worried glances until I can’t take it any longer.

“Go ahead and ask,” I say without looking up from my journal. I almost have my plans outlined. There’s just one more thing to be done. I can spare a word for Willow. He’s been kind to me, and none of this is his fault.

“What really happened in Westwatch?” His eyes are tender, gently probing. “You haven’t been the same since you came back.”

“Nothing changed,” I answer placidly. Nothing did. Eldas is still the icy Elf King. I’m still forced to be his Human Queen. Whatever we found in that cottage was a dream, a moment, as fragile as butterfly wings.

“Something did.” He frowns and sits across from me. “Is it what happened with Harrow?”

“How’s he doing?” I ask, continuing to allow Willow to think that my general malaise originates from the incident with the fae. Since we’ve returned, Willow has taken over Harrow’s treatment. But the youngest prince still hasn’t woken. That’s another thing for Eldas to resent me for. I’ve no doubt he blames me for the non-responsive state of his brother since it was I who first treated him.

“He’s fine, but still no changes.” Willow pats my hand. “I’m sure he’ll come out of it soon.”

“Yeah…” I finish looking over the last of my plans. There’s only two weeks left before the coronation. I bite my lip and sigh. There’s something I’m missing to achieve the balance, I know it. But my thoughts are scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind.

Part of me can only think of Harrow—worried for his recovery and wondering why he has yet to wake. Part of me wonders if I’m making the right choice. I wonder if there’s any other choice to be made. Then, there’s Eldas…

“I need to grab a few things from the conservatory,” I say, slipping out before Willow can probe again. I’ve become too fragile. I’m teetering on the edge of spilling all the feelings I’m carrying at once just so someone else can see them all—so I no longer have to carry them alone. Yet I can’t. It’s better to pretend none of this exists.

The heat clings to me from the second I step into the conservatory and doesn’t let go. I inhale deeply the now-familiar scent—the unique aroma of the plants that grow here, the moss, the earth, the compost Willow fastidiously tends in the back.

“Be good when I’m gone,” I say softly to all of the plants. They seem to rustle in reply.

I wander the rows of planters, looking for what I might want to take with me. I need to find something that will mirror the strength of the redwood throne. Something that can grow deep roots in the natural world and provide a counterweight to the throne in this world. I thought about taking a trimming from the throne itself, but another queen tried that once for other reasons and the throne was impervious to all knives and chisels.

The first Human Queen planted something to make the throne—I believe that’s what the statue in the center of Quinnar is showing. The Fade and throne, made at the same time in a magical process, almost like a ritual. But what can I plant that could possibly mirror the throne in might? What is still outstanding in the balance?

Then a small, bulbous plant catches my eye. I stare at the heartroot, blinking several times. It’s as if I see it for the first time.

“The heartroot remembers,” I whisper, echoing Willow’s words.