A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(58)

I push the thoughts away. Harrow is just another reason why I’m glad to not be a part of that family. I’m leaving in two months and counting.

“Thank you for letting me know. What time should I be ready by?”

“Eldas expects you at eight.”

“Oh good, I can get a full day in the laboratory then, and still have time to change.”

“Would you like me to help you get ready this evening?”

I think about taking her up on the offer. There are definitely dresses that I can’t reach all the clasps of by myself. “No, thank you,” I ultimately decide. If Eldas is going to get to know me, he should get to know the real me—not whatever hairstyle or dress Rinni thinks is appropriate.

“Then I will return at seven forty-five.” Rinni gives a bow and leaves.

The day is an odd mix of too long and too short. The hours seem to drag on while I’m in the laboratory. Every time I look at the grandfather clock, I’m certain half the day has passed and it’s been five minutes.

I can hardly concentrate.

But all too soon, I’m back in my room and Rinni is knocking once more.

“Enter,” I call.

She appears at my bathroom door. “You chose that to wear?”

“It’s non-negotiable,” I declare. “He meets with me in this or he doesn’t meet me at all.”

“Very well.” Rinni has the ghost of a grin as she leads me away. Luckily she doesn’t comment on Hook following. He’s become my shadow in the castle since I’m much more at ease with him around. At this point, getting to know me involves getting to know Hook.

We cross through the throne room to get to the East Wing. I assume it was a more direct path than going down to the main atrium. Rinni leads me through the door Eldas usually disappears into. She traverses silent halls, cramped with intricate suits of armor, pointed stones on pedestals, tapestries, and portraits. There’s less open space here than in the West Wing. Less ballrooms, dining rooms, rooms for the sake of having rooms. They’re replaced by spiraling staircases and an infinite amount of doors that block my prying eyes.

Finally, we reach our destination, a door that looks much like any other. Rinni gives a soft knock.

“Your Majesty,” she says. “Your queen is here to join you.”





Chapter 22





I freeze slightly at the words, “your queen.” I worry the labradorite ring around my finger, suddenly aware of its presence once more. I don’t want to be anyone’s. I don’t want to be owned. I nearly break out running, but manage to keep myself in place.

A sense of ownership is not what those words were intended to imply. I came here of my own volition. I wanted this to see if the kind man I’ve caught glimpses of is truly there. If he can trust me. If maybe our partnership can shore up its footing so that we might actually manage to get Midscape out of the bind it’s in. I’m not here out of obligation, or fear, or because he commanded me to be.

“Send her in.” The bass of Eldas’s voice resonates right through me.

The door swings out into the hall and Rinni steps to the side. I enter and try to walk tall, one hand buried in Hook’s fur for strength. As the door clicks behind me, the hornets win over the butterflies in my stomach and I press my lips together, trying not to let nervous words buzz out.

Eldas stands before a great hearth. There’s a table between us that looks like it could comfortably seat four but is set for two. Food glistens in the low light—roasted meat, trays of vegetables, and some kind of round, iced cake with what I hope aren’t actual butterfly wings decorating the top.

I can only inspect the food so much before my eyes wander to the man I’m actually here to see. Eldas is wearing a tufted tunic the color of midnight. Tiny pearl buttons are sewn at the center of Xs across his breast and give the appearance of scattered stars. His complexion is in contrast with his dark clothes, making him look like a king of starlight, rather than death.

“Is the crown really necessary?” I blurt, completely disarmed by his mere appearance. It almost looks like he made an effort for me.

“Excuse me?” Surprise disrupts his schooled expression and his hand flies to the dark line of iron on his head. Eldas drops his hand suddenly, as if embarrassed by the motion. “I am a king, why would I not wear my crown?”

“Because it’s just me you’re meeting with.”

“All the more reason. I am your king. Why would I not look the part?”

Your king. The words rumble in contrast to “your queen.” If I am his queen, does that mean he is my king? Is it, rather than him owning me, that we own each other? We share each other?

For the first time, I wish I spent a little more time on all this relationship and romance business at the academy, rather than being singularly focused on herbology. Maybe I would be less awkward and less inclined to over-think everything.

“I…” Words fail me. Instead, I walk over to him and feel his eyes trail over me with every step. Hook waits behind, as if he somehow knows I need to do this on my own. “I came here as myself, as Luella.” I hold out my hands and let him look at the high-waisted skirt and billowing top I chose—simple fabrics, simple designs, what I would wear back in Capton. “I was hoping that I might—”