6. Three

Elindir's expression was unreadable, and his heart unknowable. It had been mere days since I'd ridden out to rescue him. I had not expected to find the first battle of the war already raging when we arrived, but that was his doing, not mine. I had thought to find him grateful for the rescue, not angry at me.

I shouldn't have been surprised. My little sun's fire had always burned hot. There was no cooling the simmering rage that always flickered in those eyes. I watched the man in front of me and wondered how I had ever mistaken him for less than a prince. It was written in his pride and his stubbornness. How could he ever be anything else?

And yet I had seen him be humble. I'd seen him kneel and obey. Such a contradiction, Elindir, bastard prince of Ostovan.

One of the newly freed tr?ll appeared with another glass pitcher, the emblem on the side bearing the Stoneriver crest. Elindir's expression immediately soured, so I gestured for her to leave the pitcher and go. Once she was gone, I sat forward to pour our glasses, as he had done so many times for me. I doubted he would see it as the gesture of goodwill it was supposed to be, however. Elindir was still glaring angrily at the empty space the girl had occupied a moment ago.

"A throne for a throne," I remarked, placing his goblet in front of him. "You will help me take mine, and then I shall forgo a season of raids to help you secure yours at Ostovan. Provided, of course, you can promise enough gold and glory to keep my warriors satisfied."

His eye twitched, and he frowned. "You speak as if we've already negotiated and reached an agreement."

"Haven't we?" I shrugged. "I seem to recall standing over the bodies of the slain, the fields burning and bloodied, while you declared you would fight for me if I fought for you. We shook hands, agreed to march to ?nor, and now here we are."

"Here we are," he agreed, sinking further into his seat. "With no battle plans, limited provisions, and a single ally whose worth we cannot know."

"The Stonerivers are not renowned warriors, nor are they skilled mages," I said. "But ?nor is strategically located, and Lord Stoneriver presides over the largest area of farmland in the isle. By calling their banners to our side, we have ensured our armies won't starve through the winter. Supplies are just as important as soldiers."

"But you still need soldiers to win."

"More will come," I assured him, hoping it was true. ?nor was a decisive location, but even with the Riverlands firmly in my grasp, we were far from secure.

There were twelve clans in the land. Of them, the Deepfrosts and the Runecleavers were the most powerful, the former being the primarch's own clan, and my own. I had secured many of those loyal to me in my father's house, but not all. He would soon begin rooting out my agents, a bloody but unavoidable process.

As for the Runecleavers, they'd already proven they'd side with the primarch, as I suspected they would. That left us at a severe disadvantage when it came to mages, even with the Broken Blades on our side. The sheer power of the Runecleavers would be difficult to best on the battlefield, but if we could get the Northfires—Runecleaver rivals—to our side, we might stand a chance.

In the south, the Craiggybottoms' anti-slavery platform would see them siding with us, while the Seashores' investments in northern gems would likely have them fall to my father's side. Clan Redrock could go either way.

"I've sent riders, if you recall," I added, sipping from my glass. I'd never been particularly fond of the flower-infused teas they served in the Riverlands, but it was too early for wine.

Elindir frowned. "Yes, the same night we rode out to speak to the Empress of Bones."

I met his gaze and wondered if we were both thinking of the night that followed. I wished I'd handled him with more care that night, but he wouldn't have allowed it. Elindir was a wild stallion who needed a firm hand to break him in, and I was determined to give it to him.

"I instructed them to send their answers to Calibarra within a fortnight," I said, "which is why we must ride south as soon as possible."

"South? But the capital is north."

"D'thallanar is heavily fortified and surrounded by mountains," I pointed out. "Those paths will be impassible once the first snows hit, and the altitude inhospitable for camping armies. We need walls, Elindir. A capital of our own from which to conduct the war. The next few months will be spent building our army, training, gathering alliances. And when the snow melts, we will march."

"For D'thallanar," he said blandly. "It will be two years before I see my home again, and that is a generous estimate. Your civil war could rage for years. I may never see Ostovan again."

He turned his face away and my breath caught. Elindir was always a sight to behold, whether he was decked out in gold as he was the first time I laid eyes on him, or in plain slave garments. With the mighty falls of ?nor at his back, and the mist rising all around him, he was breathtaking in profile.

"You will see your home again," I promised him, and I meant it.

Yet my wild and impatient human didn't believe it. He seized the drink I had poured for him and rose from his seat, going to the stone wall of the balcony and looking out over the falls, his expression melancholic.

I should have stood with him, but there would be no point in playing Elvish power games with someone who didn't understand a king should never allow a prince to stand over him. Humans didn't seem to put any value in such things as posture and presence, so I stayed seated. "I should think you'd be more pleased to have been rescued."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Of course you would expect me to throw myself at your feet and sing your praises for having simply shown up. Let us forget it is because of you I was sold to Taratheil in the first place."

"What did you want me to do? Kill my father in that tent to stop him from taking you?"

"If you had, we could've avoided this whole damn war." He emptied his cup and balanced it on the railing in front of him.

I pushed up to stand, slowly pacing toward him. "If I had, his guards would have killed me and my siblings. I'd have made a martyr of him, all but securing Vinolia's ascent."

Elindir frowned over his shoulder at me. "Vinolia?"

"Do you think my father is a fool?" I asked, coming to rest against the railing next to him. "He has a line of succession in place. Of course, it wouldn't be her exactly who would become the next elected primarch. My people would sooner elect a horse than a woman to the highest office in the land. But Vinolia would have a puppet ready to ascend before Taratheil's blood even cooled. If my father is a tyrant, imagine what Vinolia Runecleaver might do. My father's policies are far more moderate than hers would ever be."

"You cannot expect me to understand the intricacies of Elven politics, Ruith," he said sourly.

"I don't. I expect you to trust me. Is that so difficult?" My arm brushed against his, but he pulled away. "There was a time when you trusted me once, Elindir."

"And then you sold me to your father without a fight," he growled, expression hardening. "And he gave me to Nessir. Do you know what he intended for me? What he said to me? Threatened me with?"

"He's dead and you are alive and free," I pointed out. "That no longer matters."

"Of course it matters, Ruith!" Elindir swatted the goblet from the balcony. It went sailing over the edge, a white speck against a raging wall of white water, before it disappeared in the mist.

I didn't understand why he was so focused on the words of a dead traitor, nor how any of that was my fault. "I came for you, Elindir, even when it could have cost me the war. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"You came because you needed me."

"Yes," I barked, growing more frustrated by the second, "but not in the way you think."

Elindir rolled his eyes. "You want me to believe that because we fucked once under the light of the eclipse, that we mean something to each other? I am your pawn, Ruith! To be placed and used as you wish. Don't pretend I'll ever be more than that to you."

I should have let him walk away as he clearly intended to do, but the man had infuriated me. I caught his arm before he could flee. He unexpectedly spun around, drawing a hidden dagger that he held to my neck.

I lifted my chin, clearing the way for him to open my throat. "Go on then. One cut and you're free of me forever."

His fierce eyes softened and his grip on the dagger faltered. "I'll never be free of you. Even when I'm alone, I hear your voice, whispering. I close my eyes, and it's you I see. I can't even escape you when I dream. You haunt me."

I lifted my hand, and he shifted his grip on the blade at my throat, but he didn't dig it deeper. I took it as careful permission and brushed my fingers across his temple and then up through his short auburn hair. Did he know the significance of the gesture, the line I had just crossed? Perhaps it meant nothing to his people, but it was significant to mine. Physical affection was something done behind closed doors in our culture, but no contact was more intimate than for one warrior to touch the hair of another. A warrior's hair tied his soul to the gods, making it a sacred thing.

His lips parted, pupils blowing wider, his breath quickening. It was the closest we'd been since that night, though I'd thought of it often, longed to be close like this again. It didn't matter that the cold steel of his blade was kissing my throat just deep enough to send blood trickling down to my collar. A little blood was a small price to pay to touch the sun.

Time seemed to slow, the roar of the falls fading to a distant murmur as I lost myself in Elindir's eyes, the heat of his body so close to mine. My fingers traced the elegant line of his jaw, marveling at the contrast of his sun-kissed skin against my pale hand. In that moment, I was willing to bear any wound, endure any pain, if only to prolong this fleeting connection between us.

But the spell was broken by the sound of a polite cough from the balcony doorway. We sprang apart, Elindir deftly sheathing his dagger as we turned to face our intruder. Lord Victorin Stoneriver stood there, an apologetic smile on his face, though his keen green eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Forgive the interruption, my king," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a musical lilt. "But I come bearing news. Lord Klaus Wolfheart and his daughter, Lady Taelyn, have arrived. They await you in the great hall."

I straightened my tunic, feeling the damp warmth of blood against my skin. "Thank you, Lord Stoneriver. We will join them presently."

Victorin inclined his head. "Of course. I shall escort you myself."

As we followed Victorin through the winding stone corridors of Castle ?nor, I found my thoughts lingering on the heated moment Elindir and I had shared on the balcony. The ghost of his blade against my throat seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat, a stinging reminder of the precarious dance we engaged in.

I risked a glance at Elindir, noting the rigid set of his shoulders and the determined forward focus of his gaze. He was every inch the proud prince, refusing to acknowledge what had transpired between us. I suppressed a sigh, knowing that untangling the thorny knot of our relationship would have to wait. There were more pressing matters at hand.

We stepped into the great hall, a cavernous space with vaulted ceilings and towering stained glass windows that cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floor. At the far end, perched upon a raised dais, sat the Stoneriver throne - an imposing seat carved from a single block of white marble shot through with veins of glittering quartz.

Before the dais stood Lord Klaus Wolfheart in a fur-trimmed cloak of deep blue, the silver embroidery glinting in the light. He stood tall and proud, his broad shoulders and muscular frame a testament to his years as a fierce warrior. His weathered face was set in a stern expression, his piercing blue eyes assessing me with a calculating gaze.

Beside him stood a young woman who could only be his daughter, Lady Taelyn. She was a vision of ethereal beauty, her long, silver-white hair cascading down her back in loose waves, framing her delicate features.

Lord Stoneriver stepped forward, his voice ringing out in the cavernous space. "My king, Your Highness, I present Lord Klaus Wolfheart and his daughter, Lady Taelyn. It's my pleasure to introduce his grace, King Ruith Starfall, and Prince Ostovan of Elindir."

"Prince Elindir of Ostovan," I corrected.

Klaus frowned at Elindir, an expression I wanted to strike off his face. "I had heard you had a human pet, but not that he was a prince."

I fought the urge to clench my fists. "Elindir is a free man, and a commander in my army."

"So it's true then. You've armed your slaves." It was impossible to tell if Klaus' grunt was approval or disapproval.

"They are slaves no longer, my lord," Elindir said firmly. "We are all free men, willing to fight and die for your rightful king."

Klaus' eyes narrowed at Elindir. "There's been no king of the elves for many years now. The Assembly elected Taratheil to the position of Primarch. He is the recognized leader of our people."

"A position he maintains through fear, coercion, and threats," I said firmly. "And has bought with the blood of hundreds of Clan Wolfheart's sons, Lord Wolfheart."

He heaved a heavy sigh and nodded. "That much is true. The war in the north has been long and bloody and we have borne the brunt of it."

I met Klaus' gaze, my voice steady and resolute. "I intend to end the northern unification war, Lord Wolfheart. By granting the north its independence, we can stem the tide of Elvish blood spilled on those frozen battlefields."

Klaus' brow furrowed, his eyes flickering with a mix of hope and skepticism. "A bold claim, Your Grace. But how do you propose to accomplish such a feat? The primarch has poured immense resources into subduing the north with nothing to show for it."

I leaned forward, my hands clasped behind my back. "The northern elves fight for their freedom, Lord Wolfheart. I believe Lord Kudai to be a reasonable elf. Given the chance to govern freely, I believe he will take it. All I need to do is extend the offer. That, and I have his beloved niece as a hostage." I paused, letting my words sink in. "I know the toll this war has taken on your people. The Wolfhearts have always been renowned for their bravery and skill in battle. But no clan should be asked to sacrifice so much for so little gain."

Klaus was silent for a long moment, considering his words carefully. "The Wolfhearts have always been loyal to the throne, Your Grace. But our loyalty has come at a steep price. Too many of our sons have been lost in this endless war, their blood staining the snow-covered fields of the north." He turned to gaze out one of the great hall's towering windows, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the colorful panes. "I am tired, Ruith. Tired of sending our young men to die for a cause that seems increasingly futile. If you can truly bring an end to this conflict, if you can secure the north's independence and stem the tide of Elvish blood..." He trailed off, his eyes distant.

If there was one thing Lord Wolfheart was known for, it was his prowess in battle. His clan had been fighting the Yeutish Elves since before the war, holding the northern border for many years before the monarchy ever got involved. But if there were two things, the second would be his daughters. Klaus Wolfheart had four wives, seven daughters, and twelve granddaughters. His wives had given him five sons, all of whom had died fighting the northern war. Without a living male heir, his line was in jeopardy, and so was the clan itself, but he also knew better than to leave without asking for something in return.

Unless there was an end to the war soon, there might not be much of Clan Wolfheart to continue fighting, and he knew it. Even if the Wolfhearts were staunch conservatives politically, Klaus knew an end to the northern war was the best thing for his clan.

I glanced over at Elindir, my heart sinking because I knew what Klaus had come to bargain for. An elvish poet had once written that a crown was a cold comfort to a lord with no heirs, but it was a comfort, nonetheless.

"The last time Clan Wolfheart and Clan Starfall shared blood," said Klaus, "was in the time of King Strykar Starfall. He wed Drila the Dove after the tourney at Godsfel, and with her father's armies, conquered the north. It was the first and last time the entire island was united under one ruler. The golden age of elves. And here you are, promising another golden age under your rule, one bought once again with the blood of my family."

"With the blood of many families," I corrected. "But as few as possible. If we stand together, Lord Wolfheart, we can bring this civil war to a swift end. We can build a better world, one where you need not bury more sons and grandsons for the ambitions of kings."

"It is the duty of a lord to send his sons to die for the ambitions of his king," he said gravely. "Only I find myself without any sons left. I am old. Past the prime age for making heirs. I leave that now to my daughters."

Klaus gestured toward his daughter, Taelyn, who had remained silent and still throughout our exchange. "My youngest daughter, Taelyn, has recently come of age. She is a true Wolfheart: fierce, intelligent, and loyal. In her veins flows the blood of warriors and leaders." He fixed me with a pointed stare, his meaning clear. "She would make a fine queen, Your Grace. A queen who could help unite our fractured land and usher in a new era of peace and prosperity."

Elindir stiffened beside me, his breath catching almost imperceptibly. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, to see the hurt and betrayal that surely flickered in his eyes. Instead, I focused on Taelyn, taking in her regal bearing and the quiet strength that seemed to emanate from her.

Her storm-gray eyes met and held mine. In that moment, I saw a glimpse of the formidable woman she was, the queen she could become. But I also saw the weight of duty and expectation that rested upon her slender shoulders, the same weight that I had borne all my life.

"Lady Taelyn," I said, inclining my head in a gesture of respect. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

Taelyn inclined her head in return, a polite smile gracing her lips. "The honor is mine, Your Grace." Her voice was soft yet steady, carrying a quiet strength.

There was no denying her beauty, nor the keen intelligence in her eyes. And yet, even as I acknowledged the political advantages of such a union, I knew my heart belonged to another, to the fiery-haired prince who stood beside me, his presence a constant reminder of the bond we shared, the trials we had endured together.

I turned to speak to Elindir, to gauge his reaction to this unexpected proposal, but found only empty space where he had stood moments before. The heavy wooden door of the great hall swung shut with a resounding thud, the echoes of his abrupt departure ringing in the cavernous space.

My heart constricted, a dull ache blooming in my chest as I pictured the betrayal etched across his face. I longed to go after him, to gather him in my arms and soothe the wounds I had inflicted, but I couldn't. Not with Lord Wolfheart standing right there. I couldn't go to Elindir any more than I could decline Klaus' proposal. Not if I wanted to win this damn war.

So, I turned back to Lord and Lady Wolfheart, a smile plastered on my face. "Come. Let us discuss the details of our agreement."