Chapter 4

S eemingly as one, everyone drops to one knee as the queen saunters through the large, arched doorway. I'm only a second behind everyone else, but in that small space of time, the queen's eyes lock with mine, narrowing with hatred. Bowing, I keep my head down, my heart pounding in my chest from the look she just gave me. What have I done to deserve such hatred? Is it just because of race? I don't think that's the case since she seemed pretty happy with Tor on her arm, and although he's from the mountain tribes, he's still human, right?

Sound resumes as the elves stand up. Whispers float over to me as they marvel over how beautiful the queen is and the identity of the mysterious man on her arm. Slowly, oh so slowly, I straighten, my mind a mess as I try to push away the feelings that are trying to overwhelm me—memories of being a slave, of being pushed to the ground and punished, the brandings on my skin, and the look of pure hatred that the guards would watch me with. The queen hasn't done anything to physically hurt me, but that one look spoke volumes—she wishes me dead.

Vaeril stays silent at my side, his expression somber as he waits for me to work my way through my panic, obviously experiencing some of my feelings through the bond.

"Is she okay?" I hear Saril ask gently, concerned for me.

Naril steps closer, and between them, they're able to block me off from the curious glances of the elves around us while I have my freak out. "Clarissa's life has been…" Naril pauses, and my eyes flick up to glare at him, promising him violence if he tells my story without my permission. "Challenging," he finishes, wisely choosing not to divulge my history.

"Clarissa," Vaeril calls gently. " Alina ," he calls again, using his elvish nickname for me. I recently discovered it means ‘saviour.' I'd been uncomfortable when he first started calling me this, but I'm used to hearing him say it now and the name feels like mine when it's him who says it.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I look up and meet his concerned eyes. When I glance around at my companions, I see they're all watching me with varying levels of concern, even Naril, although that's probably because he doesn't want me to make a scene rather than him actually caring for me.

"I'm okay," I say to the group with a soft smile, wishing that speaking the words out loud would make them come true. Turning to Saril, I give her a rueful smile, bowing my head slightly. After all, she's one of the elders and a close friend of Vaeril's, so I want to make a good impression. Having a panic attack in front of everyone was not part of the plan. "Sorry for making you worry."

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder, and I manage not to flinch this time, looking up at the kind elf before me. "That's not a problem, child." Her face is much more expressive than the other elves I've met, but even if her face has remained completely stoic, I can tell from her warm voice that she means what she says.

I can see why Vaeril likes these two , I think as she steps back into her partner's arms, his face showing complete adoration. The love they exude for one another is so strong that I have to look away, rubbing at the spot in my chest where my bonds reside. Of course, Vaeril sees this and steps closer to me with a question on his face. Shaking my head slightly, I let him know I don't want to talk about it, but I draw comfort from his hand on my lower back.

We have to be careful we don't draw too much attention. Vaeril previously explained that we don't want the queen to know about the bond until we've sealed it. He didn't say as much, but I got the impression they worried what the queen would do if she discovered it, that she might try and stop us from completing the bond. Thinking back to before Tor arrived and how close Vaeril and I came to sealing the bond makes me flush. Overwhelmed and fuelled by desire, I hadn't been thinking straight. Now that I know the implications, I'm glad we were interrupted. Vaeril believes it would be safer if we seal the bond, but he doesn't want to rush me and prefers the decision be wholly mine—not because my desire overtakes me or it's my only option.

I also don't think he's ready for it. One moment, he can't stop touching me, and the next, he returns to his cool elf fa?ade, which I know is just a mask because I've seen the real Vaeril. We both need to make the decision to seal the bond for the right reason—because we want to.

In addition to our undefined relationship, we have another problem—he doesn't know that I have a connection with Tor and Grayson as well. I haven't found a way to tell him yet. He's not stupid, he's lived for centuries, and I'm sure he's worked out that there's something between Tor and me, but nothing's been said about the magician. Before I do anything, I need to do more research and find out if it's possible to be bound to more than one person. I'm being pulled in three different directions, and I'm not ready to choose.

Gentle music starts up in the hall, and couples float into the center of the room to dance. Everyone else breaks off into small groups or turns to watch the dancers, so I use the opportunity to look around. Taelir and Saril are talking quietly to Naril, asking him about a recent scouting mission. Vaeril stays silent at my side as he looks out at the dancers, but every now and then, I can feel his gaze on my face.

Most of the female elves are wearing flowing wrap style dresses that I'd been dressed in when I first arrived, however these are much grander. They remind me of the sari type clothing I had seen back at Arhaven. A group of dignitaries from the far east had come on a diplomatic mission, and while I had still been a slave, I had snuck glances of them while I was cleaning the castle. They hadn't stayed long, but I had admired the colourful fabrics and patterns—some of the only colour in that dark castle.

The male elves all seem to be wearing the same tailored doublet style jacket, with embroidery ranging from simple repeating patterns to actual pictures. One elf dances by me with a whole phoenix stitched onto the back of his jacket. They all move with a grace and speed that amazes me, as none of them hide the true nature of who or what they are. I hadn't noticed before, but surrounded by his people, I realise that Vaeril's been deliberately slowing himself down when he's around me.

Finally, I can't hold myself back anymore, and I look over to the marble throne where, sure enough, the queen is sitting, watching her subjects with rapt interest, and by her side is an uncomfortable Tor. He's wearing his usual leather clothing with a large, wolf pelt draped over his shoulders. Standing by her side, he tries to make conversation, but she only seems to be half listening and nodding her head in agreement as she looks out across the ballroom. There's an empty chair on her other side, and I wonder whom it belongs to. My mind thinks back to when I first arrived at the palace and saw an elf who must have been a relation of some type. I've not seen him since I arrived, which is strange if he is related to the queen. Perhaps I'll see him this evening, although remembering his smile makes me shudder.

As if she can feel me looking, the queen's eyes flick to mine. They run over my outfit before she smirks and looks away, dismissing me with the smallest jerk of her chin before she turns her attention to Vaeril. Her dress is the opposite of mine. Where mine is soft and feminine, hers is tight and fitted, designed to show off her best features. The bright scarlet fabric catches the eye, and her beautiful hair falls in silver silken waves around her face while her golden crown perches proudly upon her head.

The dancing continues, and a couple of elves come up to speak to Naril or Vaeril, congratulating him on his return. I can feel the curious eyes of many, but thankfully, my companions seem to put most off from coming over to speak to me, and the few who do are buffered by my friends.

"I thought this was supposed to be a celebration of your return," I finally say after an hour or so has passed. "Isn't there going to be a speech or anything?"

"No," Vaeril answers with a soft shake of his head. "This is just an opportunity for her to show off her new toy." His eyes narrow as he gestures towards Tor, who has not so subtly been looking at me all night.

"Not to mention she knows how much it annoys you that the mountain man has to spend so much time with her," Naril chimes in, and I know he's right. I've seen the queen notice when Tor looks at me, taking in his expression as he's forced to stay at her side.

"While I don't disagree with your observations, I would encourage you to remember where we are," Taelir comments in his rich baritone timbre. "The walls have ears."

"You're right, Taelir. That was thoughtless of us." Vaeril sighs, rubbing a hand across his face before turning to me. "What do you think?"

"About what?" I question, taken by surprise. I'd been thinking how handsome he looked tonight and how I like when his hair falls across his face, ruining the perfect fa?ade. I know it's stupid, but he always seems so intact and unruffled, his signature frown in place as he looks at me. Seeing that frustration makes him seem more…human.

Right now, he's staring at me like I've left part of my brain back in my room, his silver brow raising as he gestures around us. "The celebration."

"Oh," I respond dimly, pulling my gaze from his perfect face and looking at the party going on around us. "It's not all that different from the human balls I attended back in Arhaven," I reply with a shrug. After all, the hall in Arhaven was just as beautiful in its own way, and the people were all dressed up and mingling just as they are here with a watchful ruler at the head of the room. There is one difference though, other than the race of the attendees. "Just less death."

"Ha!" Naril exclaims. "It's early yet, still plenty of time for that." The way he says this so calmly has me spinning around to gape at him, only to see his smirk. He's joking. At least, I hope he is. Shooting him an unamused glare, I turn back to my examination of the hall.

"I don't see Eldrin, is he not attending?" I query lightly, looking around the room to see if I missed him, making sure to check the darker corners where he could be lingering.

"You won't see him," a voice says quietly in my ear, making me jump and press my hand to my chest as if it could slow my pounding heart. Spinning on my heel, I glare at Naril, who's now only inches from me. His grin is wide as it stretches across his face, and he has mischief in his eyes. When I don't respond, he pouts at my lack of a reaction. "My brother is out of favour with the queen," he explains, his face tightening ever so slightly. If I hadn't been standing right next to him, I probably wouldn't have seen it. "Even before his little stunt in the hallway." He shakes his head, looking over at the queen as he speaks, his voice low. "The only reason he's still alive is because he's a twin and the queen is scared to bring down the gods' wrath on her."

My eyebrows rise in interest. I've heard a couple of references to the elvish gods now, but I hadn't thought that the elves followed any form of religion as they always seem so despairing of the humans' religion. Something is nagging in the back of my brain, telling me that this is important, so I make a note to ask Vaeril about their religion at a later time.

"He's never liked these things anyway. People stare at him," Naril continues, his voice lighter now as he turns to look at me.

I can understand that, and I get the impression that it's not just because of the scar that mars his face. Not all scars are visible, and I understand exactly what it's like to carry that sort of burden around with you.

The evening seems to drag, and I'm just waiting until people start to leave so I can make my excuses, but everyone appears to be enjoying themselves. A couple more elves have come over to talk to me, but my companions manage to keep them away, which I'm grateful for. I know I should be trying to make friends here, but my feet are killing me and all I want to do is curl up in the marshmallow of a bed that's waiting for me upstairs.

The queen hasn't left her throne, and Tor has been by her side the entire evening. A hateful feeling twists in my chest every time I look over in that direction, one I'm not used to feeling.

You know what this is. Jealousy. You hate that he's spending so much time with the queen. Could my thoughts be right? Am I jealous of the time he's spending with the queen? Glancing over, the feeling twists inside me again, growing as the queen leans across the arm of the throne and touches his shoulder. Instead of stepping away or removing her hand, he smiles at her, saying something that makes her laugh. The feeling increases.

It is jealousy , I muse with grim amusement. So this is what it feels like. Rubbing at the spot in my chest again, I turn away from the throne, not wanting to see any more and hoping that this hateful feeling will disappear if I'm not watching them. A movement by the door catches my eye as I watch the elf shift from one foot to the other, like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. I continue to watch him until I realise that I know him.

"Vaeril, I'm just going to see my friend," I tell him quickly, flashing him a quick smile, not waiting for his permission.

"Friend?" Naril repeats behind me with surprised amusement. I don't care if they're following me, and based on the looks I get from the elves I pass, that's exactly what they're doing. Several elves look like they're about to stop me, to speak to me, but they glance behind me and quickly step out of my way.

"Kaelir," I call, as I reach the alcove next to the door where the guard is standing, and I realise why it took me a moment to recognise him. Dressed in a smart jacket instead of his uniform, he looks uncomfortable as he pulls at the neckline of the form-fitting clothing. Hearing my call, he instantly looks up, on alert, until he sees me walking towards him with a smile, and then his face relaxes into a friendly expression.

The elf was one of my guards when I first came to Galandell, when the queen ordered my arrest. He guarded me in my cell, and while he was anxious around me, he treated me fairly. Before I was let out and Vaeril came to rescue me, Kaelir and I had started a fragile friendship. I'm not sure he would call me a friend, but he's one of the closest things I have to one here other than Vaeril and Tor.

Pushing away from the wall, he dips his head respectfully towards me. "Miss Clarissa, I'm glad to see a friendly face." His eyes flick past me, and a shadow falls over me, announcing the arrival of my entourage.

Tilting my head to one side, I ponder his comment. "What do you mean?" I question, glancing over my shoulder to the full ballroom behind me. "You're surrounded by your people." He works in the palace, or at least underneath it, so surely there must be at least one or two elves that he knows in attendance. Besides, if he's here, there must be some other workers too. I'd assumed the celebration was only for the court, but I'm pleased to see him here—perhaps the queen isn't as bad as I thought she was.

"Just because I'm the same race as them doesn't mean I'm on the same level. I would have thought you would understand that." He looks at my wrist meaningfully, and I realise what he's saying—he's a different class than the rest of the elves in the room. Shaking his head, he frowns slightly before remembering who's standing behind me, and his face becomes carefully neutral as he tries to explain. "Most of the elves here are lords and ladies, or important people from the courts. Not many guards or palace workers get to attend these balls," he finishes with an uneasy smile. He doesn't want to be here, that much is clear.

An alarm bell goes off in my mind. Something isn't quite adding up about this. Why would he be one of the only staff present? Before I came to speak to him, he looked uncomfortable, like he would rather be anywhere else. "Then how come you're here? Why did you come?" I'm sure my questions are rude, but there is just something odd about this whole situation.

"I received an invite." He removes a thick piece of cream cardstock from his jacket pocket, extending it for me to see. I can't read the swirling calligraphy, it's probably in elvish, but I just nod my head. "I think Elier received one too, although I've not seen him," he tells me, looking around hopefully to try and spot his fellow guard.

Elier had been the young guard who I rode back to Galandell with when we were first discovered in the cave by the kelpies' lake. Vaeril had been poisoned during our escape from Arhaven and had almost died. I'd been so busy focusing on him and trying to keep him with me that I didn't realise the elves were sneaking up on us. Thankfully, they didn't kill me outright and took both of us to the capital for the queen to make her decision. Elier had obviously been uncomfortable having me so close to him, but he had been kind at the end—far kinder than the guards and soldiers at Arhaven ever were.

I still feel uneasy, the queen doesn't do anything without reason and I'm sure there is something else going on here that I just can't quite work out, but I shake my head and push those thoughts to the back of my mind. "Whatever the reason, I'm pleased to see you." My words are honest, and he smiles in agreement, sensing my sincerity.

"And I you." He shifts uncomfortably again, running a finger around the neckline of his jacket, pulling it away as if it's strangling him.

"You'll get used to that. These things are always uncomfortable," Vaeril offers from behind me, and both myself and Kaelir look at him in shock. I recover first, simply raising a brow at his advice before turning back to the guard. He looks like he's not quite sure what to do, in fact his expression is comical, but I work to keep my features neutral. Of course, I fail miserably at it. Kaelir sees and laughs, breaking the silence between us.

"I thought you'd be enjoying the company of the court," he remarks, gesturing to me and the gorgeous dress I'm wearing. "You look like you were born to be here."

Flattered, my cheeks blush pink, and I give him a rueful smile. "I feel very out of place here," I reply honestly. With my round ears and black hair, I think I stand out like a sore thumb, but it's nice to hear otherwise. I do wonder if he's heard the whispers about my lineage from his comment. ‘You look like you were born to be here.' If Jaonos really was my grandfather, then part of me was born to be here.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one!" he exclaims with a bit too much enthusiasm thanks to a glare from Vaeril.

We stay with Kaelir for a bit longer, just making small talk, but I can tell Naril and Vaeril's presence is making him uncomfortable, so we make our excuses and head back over to where Taelir and Saril are still standing. A flash of bronze catches my eye, and I frown as I glance over, trying to work out what I'm seeing. By one of the pillars is an elf I recognise, but it takes me a couple of seconds to place how I know him.

The elf who is related to the queen.

Why is he standing by himself, and mostly obscured by the pillar, almost as if he's hiding? And why is he staring at me? His expression makes me want to shudder again, and as if he can sense it, his smile grows. Raising a hand, he curls his finger, gesturing for me to follow him as he turns to leave.

"Vaeril—" I start, going to ask who the elf is and if we can trust him, but I'm stopped by a new presence.

"Clarissa?" The voice catches me by surprise, and when I turn, I see Tor wearing his most diplomatic smile as my companions switch their attention to him. Instantly, I forget about the mysterious elf.

"Tor!" I exclaim. Vaeril stiffens next to me, but he doesn't say anything, simply watching the tribesman with narrowed eyes. I can feel the others observing us with interest, but I don't look away from him in case the queen takes him when I'm not looking.

"Would you dance with me?"

I remember back to when we were both at Arhaven and he asked me the same thing. At the time, he had scared me. He was so different than the humans there that his raw masculinity and roughness made me wary of him, but there was something about him that drew me to him. As I got to know him more, I learned to see past the coarseness and focus on the man underneath. The man who risked his life to help servants and children escape from a kingdom that he owes no allegiance to, who offered to help me escape—a woman he barely knew.

"Of course," I agree, not needing to think about it as I place my hand in his. We start to move towards the dance floor when I'm stopped by a hand on my arm. I follow that hand back to Vaeril, who's watching me with a frown and hurt shining in his eyes.

" Alina ," is all he says, begging me with his eyes not to go. Something inside me flinches, but I push it away, needing to see Tor.

"I'm only going to dance, I won't be far," I assure him softly, but something tells me this is about more than just going for a dance with the tribesman. My gaze flickers to Naril who's watching me with narrowed eyes, silently judging my decision. I'll deal with him later , I think, looking back to Vaeril. We're attracting a lot of attention now, and as I glance up, I can see the queen staring daggers at me.

All of a sudden, I'm on the other side of the hall, looking at a woman in a pink dress with a group of elves on one side and the mountain tribesman on her other. She's plain, a half-breed, with Vaeril holding one of her outstretched arms, almost begging her not to go. On the other side, the tribesman holds her hand as if leading her away somewhere. I give him permission to leave my side, and the first thing he does is go to her. What is it about the tramp that has everyone so enamoured? How dare they? They should be fawning over me, and instead, the human trash is all I hear about these days. I need to find a way to get rid of her before she ruins everything. I'll make her pay.

"Clarissa!" someone calls, and based on their expressions, I get the impression it's not the first time they've said my name. Blinking rapidly to clear my vision, I shake my head, wondering what on Morrowmer just happened. Glancing over at the queen, I see she's still watching me with narrowed eyes. Was I just in her head? No, that can't be possible.

Quiet gasps come from those closest to us. On alert, I scan the area around us, searching for whatever has caused the gasps, only to realise everyone's looking at me—or more specifically, the arm that is outstretched towards Vaeril. The bangle that covers my slave marks and goddess mark has moved, exposing it for all to see. That on its own would be bad enough, but the mark on my wrist is glowing. Hurriedly, I pull my arm from Vaeril, move the bangle to cover the marks, and glance up at the queen—who witnessed the whole thing, her expression dark. I don't know why I don't want her to see it, after all she's seen it before, but I just have a feeling that the less she knows about the Great Mother blessing me, the better.

I hear the sounds of the music starting up again and people begin moving around me, but my gaze is still locked on the queen's hate-filled eyes, and I know for certain I'm not safe here any longer.

"Clarissa?" Tor calls again, and I finally break away from her stare, although I can still feel it on my skin as he leads me away. In a quiet stupor, I follow him without a word, my mind still foggy from whatever just happened. Part of me is shouting that I should be back with Vaeril, that I should go back to him, he'll keep me safe, but I know Tor would never let anything happen to me either.

Coming to a stop in the center of the ballroom, he places his hands on my hips as I drape my arms around his neck, blindly following his direction. He doesn't speak, simply giving me time to adjust to what just happened. I'm sure he's got questions, but he just leads me into a simple dance. It's nothing compared to the complex dancing of the elves around us, who just look like graceful, swirling colours to my slow human brain which is unable to keep up with their supernatural speed. I'm not sure how long we sway for, but it must be a couple of songs' worth at least.

"Are you okay now?" His eyes roam over my face, and although his expression is calm as he guides me into a spin, I can sense his worry for me. "You were as white as fresh mountain snow before."

Making sure to lower my voice, I wait until he spins me into a corner, away from the other dancers. "The queen wants me dead." As soon as I say it out loud, a certainty fills me, and I know I was right about the odd vision. I was seeing myself through the queen's eyes, and I could hear her thoughts—she wants to kill me. I should be terrified, but for some reason, resolution fills me.

I won't let her have the satisfaction of killing me.

"I won't let that happen," Tor promises, his eyes again locked onto mine. I don't know how he manages to dance without looking where he's going, even in a dance as simple as this. Watching him in return, I can't help but wonder what he's doing here. I know he told me before, but there's something more, something he isn't telling me.

"Why? Why are you here?" I hate the pleading note in my voice, but there's nothing I can do about it now. He must know how much I need to hear his answer.

"I told you before, I'm here for you." He's earnest, and I almost believe him, except it's just so…so unbelievable. The fact that he believes we're bonded, that we're fated to be together… How can that be so? I need some space, and if he's not going to give me answers, then there's no point in me being here anymore. Letting go of his shoulders, I try to take a step back, to make him stop, but he simply places my arms back around his neck without breaking his stride.

"Why me?" I demand, anger starting to take over at the lack of answers as we fall back into step. "Why is a slave girl bonded to three different people?" His eyes tighten at my mention of three bonds, but he doesn't comment, so I'm assuming he worked out my tie with Vaeril. Whether or not he knows about my third potential bond, I don't know. "It makes no sense. I'm a nobody!" I hiss, my fury breaking through my carefully placed barriers. What I said is true, none of this makes any sense. Why did the Great Mother choose to bless me? Why save me when there were so many other people—better people? My insecurities flood my system, and I feel like everyone in the room is watching me, my every secret and sin laid bare for all to see. "Pretending to be a lady doesn't make me one." My voice is tight as I speak, my eyes stinging as reality hits me. "I'm still the dirty slave without a family or a home, I'm just dressed better." I will not cry here, I won't let them see my weakness. So instead, I take that anger and I embrace it, its icy rage hardening my heart.

Tor is watching me with a frown. "Are you finished?" he prods, his tone reproachful as if he thinks I'm being unreasonable. "That's not true, and you know it." His voice is hard, and I can tell what I said has made him angry, but I can't quite figure out why. Watching me carefully, he sighs, his expression softening as he continues to dance with me, although it's more of a sway than a dance. "You are so much more than that." He's almost whispering now, his words soft. "Your life has been hard, but you're finally becoming who you were born to be."

Part of me agrees, sparking excitement at finally being able to grow and have a life where I get to decide my path, but it's overtaken by doubt. "I have no idea who that is." My voice sounds lost as I shrug my shoulders, spinning under the high arches of the ballroom in the arms of someone who promises me more than I have ever dreamed of.

Tor goes silent for a minute, nodding his head with a thoughtful expression. With a grace I didn't know he possessed, he leads me into a spin, the cloak-like part of my dress swirling around me. It would be easy to pretend that I'm in a fairy tale like the ones I would overhear when I worked at the castle. To pretend I'm an elf, that I'm accepted here, that handsome princes are vying for my affections, and that all I have to worry about is what pretty dress I'm going to wear to the next ball. So, for those few seconds, when the music swells and it's just Tor and me, I fantasise.

Of course, reality soon hits home when the music stops and the partners on the dance floor switch. I go to leave, to walk back to my companions, but Tor's grip on my hand doesn't loosen. Glancing at him questioningly, he just smiles. "Dance with me again?"

I know that my companions, mainly Vaeril, will not be pleased if I dance again, and I know for sure that the queen won't be happy, but I realise that in that moment, I don't care. I'm so pleased to see Tor that I'm going to make the most of the time we get to spend together, as I'm sure the queen will do everything she can to keep us apart. Smiling, I nod my agreement. With a flick of his wrist, he spins me into his arms so I end up pressed against his chest. My surprised laugh has the nearby elves looking up at us with interest.

Music fills the hall again, and Tor gracefully leads me into a simple dance at the edge of the dance floor. He's still wearing a thoughtful expression, and I know he's working something out, so I just stay silent, enjoying his company.

"Well, you're part elf, we know that much," he starts out of the blue, and I just nod my agreement, not surprised at his sudden burst of inspiration. There's a pause, and I flick my eyes to his face to see him frowning, like he wants to say something but isn't sure if he should or not.

"What is it?" My voice is soft, curious. Tor is not the type of person to mince his words. If there's something he needs to say, he'll say it, feelings be damned, so the fact that he's hesitating now makes me worry.

"I think I knew your mother."

The world disappears, my focus completely fastened on Tor as his words ring in my head. Somehow, with his guidance, I manage to keep dancing while my mind reels. My mother. I have no memories of my life before slavery, including that of my parents. But I often dream of her. I never see a face, but I feel her love for me, her embrace as she holds me and whispers that she loves me in my ear. On my darkest nights, I would dream that she was with me, protecting and looking over me while I slept. If Tor knows who she is, he might have more information about who I was, about my father. Excitement grows inside me like a seed reaching towards the sun, and I suddenly register his expression. He doesn't look excited, instead he looks…resigned. Replaying his words over in my head, I feel my hope start to wither. ‘I think I knew your mother.'

"Knew?" My voice is quiet as I hold my breath, waiting for the answer that I know is coming, even though I'm praying to the Mother that I'm wrong. Tor sees through my mask, sees the hurt in my eyes, and curses under his breath.

"This is not the place, I shouldn't have said anything," he mutters apologetically. Our dancing has almost come to a complete stop now, but I don't care. I've given up worrying that we're being watched. To have my hopes raised and then completely ripped out from under me… I almost would have preferred to never know. No, that's not true. I want to know who she was and what happened to her. I need to know.

"Tell me, please."

Shaking his head, he scans the room behind me, his eyes noting the people watching us, not wanting to meet the hurt in my gaze. "It's not safe here, Clarissa."

"Then when? Where?" My anger ignites again as I grip onto his shoulders, shaking him slightly until he meets my eyes. We both know that our time together is limited.

Growling low in his throat, he looks torn, like he's fighting against himself, his brow pulled down into a frown as he clenches his jaw. "If I'm right, then your mother is dead," he grits out, and the words hit me like a brick wall. Somewhere deep inside me I'd already known—what parent lets their daughter be put into slavery? Something had to have happened to them. But hearing it out loud is more painful than I would have thought.

Wiping the pain from my face, I adopt the blank mask the elves favour. "My father?" I ask, but he shakes his head, not giving me any indication what he means. Does that mean he doesn't know, that he won't tell me, or that my father is dead too? Making a noise of frustration low in my throat, I look away from him, focusing on the dancers twirling around us. "Tor, you're torturing me, I have to know."

I can feel his chest move as he takes a deep breath and releases it as a sigh as he holds me tight, his words low so no one can overhear us. The way he's holding me is sure to cause rumours, and I know that Vaeril won't be happy, but it's necessary. We're taking a big risk here, discussing this where we could be overheard, but we have no guarantee we'll have the chance to speak about this again. "And you will, I promise, I just can't tell you now," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

"Why?" Although it's one word, it conveys my frustration, fear, and anger.

"There are two reasons. One, if certain people were to find out, it would be dangerous for you," he explains, and I know exactly who he's talking about. Why would the identity of my mother make me more of a target for the queen? "Secondly, I can't ," he continues, emphasising the last work. Frowning, I'm about to question him again, but he pulls away from me slightly so he can look into my eyes. "I took an oath, a magical bond. Until it's the right time, I can't tell you." He sounds frustrated now. "I've told you more than I thought I could." Looking into his eyes, I search for the truth and find I believe him, even though it just raises even more questions. Gently pulling me back against his chest, he continues to dance. My mind is spinning as I rest my head against his heart, so much so I can't focus on any one thing. Tor seems to sense this and sighs deeply. "Look, can we please talk about something else?"

Snorting, I look up at him with a wicked gleam in my eyes. Fine, if he doesn't want to talk about my past, then there's something else I'm eager to ask him about. "The queen seems pretty fond of you." My voice is innocent and sweet, but my smile is wicked as he groans.

"Anything other than that." Laughing at my expression, he rolls his eyes. "Partially, she's trying to woo me to get a better deal with the clans, but I'm pretty sure she's acting like this because of you."

That wipes the smile from my face, and I stop moving in my surprise. Tor curses as he almost trips over me, coming to a stop. Mutters fill the space around us as the other dancing couples try to avoid us.

"Me?" I ask in disbelief as he curses again and practically drags me off the dance floor and over into one of the secluded alcoves. I know we won't have long here, someone will come and investigate. The queen's been keeping an eye on us and on the dance floor. We're constantly being watched, so what's the worst we could do? However, if we're out of sight…she won't like that. Sure, the queen is jealous, but doing all of this just because of me?

"Yes. She's used to being the most beautiful creature in the room, and you've come along and stolen her thunder," he responds, grinning at me before scanning the space around us.

Laughing, I lean against the stone wall as I watch him, waiting for the punchline. "Be serious!" This is what I like about Tor, he makes me laugh.

"I am, partially," he finishes, glaring at the elves closest to us and retreating farther into the alcove. "She's one of the most powerful beings in the room, she's used to commanding respect, but you change everything." He shrugs as if it doesn't bother him, but I can tell he's more concerned about this than he wants me to know, which is why he's covering it with humour. "People want to know you, they know you're different, and she hates that," he continues, and I nod in agreement—he's right. "She hates humans, yet here you are." He gestures towards me with a smile, but I can see the concern in his eyes. He's had more time to get to know the elven queen than I have, so if he's worried, then I know I have cause for concern.

Swallowing the lump at the back of my throat, I try to smile, but I'm not convinced I pull it off. "She seems to like you."

"Ah, but I'm not really human, am I?" Grinning again, his smile only grows as he sees my confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Realising I'm not playing around and don't understand what he's saying, an expression of incredulity crosses his handsome features. "Do you not know anything about the mountain tribes?" He seems truly surprised and a little frustrated at my lack of education on his people.

"Apparently not," I mumble, glancing down at my wrists, playing with the cuffs that sit there. This is just another reminder of my past and another item to add to the list of things I don't know.

Taking pity on me, he chuckles quietly. "We descended from giants."

"Giants?" My exclamation is louder than I meant, and Tor winces as several nearby elves glance over. To be honest, I'm surprised we haven't been interrupted by now—not even Vaeril has come over to investigate, although as I lean from the alcove and look across the ballroom, I can see him practically glaring at Tor. We don't have much longer. "Stop teasing, there's no such thing as giants." Turning back to Tor, I scowl, except my face drops when I see his expression. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Yes, giants existed millennia ago. Somewhere along the line, elves and giants procreated, and we were created." He gestures to himself as he speaks, his voice taking on a wistful tone as he goes into storyteller mode. "The original tribespeople had the looks of the elves and the strength of the giants, but we didn't fit in with normal society, so we moved and settled in the mountains. Humans found us beautiful, and some bred with us, so really, we're a mix of all three races." I'm completely engrossed in what he's saying, while also not quite believing what he's telling me. "Over time, thanks to our elvish and human genes, we became smaller."

As he speaks, I run my eyes over him with a new appreciation. Tor is taller than most of us in the room, but not by much-—although he is bigger muscle wise, whereas the elves are lithe. I've always been so distracted by his tattoos and hair that I've never really looked much closer than that. His eyes are slightly upturned like the elves' features, but his ears are rounded like mine. I remember when I first saw Tor and his people enter the great hall back at Arhaven. They had all seemed so big, and a raw wildness emitted from them, their animal pelt clothing and unusual body art so different from us—it's not that difficult to imagine they are descendants of giants.

"So, you're part elf too?" I question in clarification, and he laughs in response.

"Ha! Somewhere deep in my ancestry, yes. Our reflexes are faster and we're stronger than humans, thanks to the elves," he explains, and I nod in agreement. "So you see, we're not really human, which I think is part of the reason why the queen is so accommodating."

There's a flash out the corner of my eye, and before I have a chance to react, someone is gripping my shoulder and pulling me from the alcove. Whoever it is, they're rough, and I graze my arm as I'm pushed up against the stone wall. It doesn't hurt, not really, but a small cry of surprise leaves me, and it takes a moment for my brain to catch up with the suddenness of it.

"Hey!" I hear Tor's outraged voice, and I can feel him just behind me, his fury echoing down the bond, but the elf's grip is too strong for him to remove.

Eldrin bares his teeth at me, like a cat hissing at its opponent, and violence glimmers in his eyes. "What did you say to Vaeril?" he demands. "What did you do?" His voice is almost a growl, and it takes me a couple of moments to catch up. What is he talking about, and where did he come from?

"What are you doing here?" I query, confused as I look up into his enraged face. I thought he didn't attend these, that he was out of favour with the queen, so why is he here? Gripping my shoulders tightly, he emits a deep growling noise.

Tor's face suddenly appears between mine and Eldrin's as he tries to shove his way between us, to force the elf to release me. "Let go of her." I've never seen the tribesman so angry before, the rage is practically rippling off him as he glares at Eldrin. Unfortunately, the elf completely ignores Tor, his eyes still locked on mine.

"Tell me what you said." Each word is punctuated with a shake of my shoulders. I'm pretty sure people are gathering around us, their voices getting louder as we're surrounded.

I know there is a reason why we don't want to attract attention, but right now, I can't focus. "I didn't say anything!"

"Brother, let her go," Naril demands quietly, but there is a threat behind his words that seems to make Eldrin blink. I can't see Naril, but relief floods my system—if anyone can calm the enraged elf, it's his twin. I have no idea when he got there, but I'm just glad to see him. Glancing around, I try to look for Vaeril. Where is he? His friend is threatening me, shouldn't he be here? Except I can't see him anywhere. My stomach sinks.

"You're dancing with him now. Us elves not good enough for you?" he sneers, still gripping my shoulders, but his face isn't as angry now as he seems to realise he's causing a scene. He might be calming down, but it's my turn to be angry.

"How dare you?" I pull away, my sudden burst of strength catching him by surprise. I can feel eyes on me, and I know when I look back at this, I will marvel over how I managed to break his hold. "Tor is my friend, and even if he wasn't, I can dance with whomever I want!" I snarl at him, taking a step closer, much to his surprise, if the widening of his eyes is anything to go by. Except it doesn't take him long to get over his surprise as he glowers back at me, opening his mouth to snarl at me.

"Eldrin!" Naril shouts, his voice harsher now.

"Is there a problem here?" The queen's serene voice floats over us, and the onlookers seem to vanish as if just being in our presence will cause them to be punished too.

Oh great , I scoff to myself. She chooses now to show up? I'm so angry that when I take a step back, I make sure to keep my mouth shut, knowing that I could get into serious trouble if I snarl at the queen in front of her people. Trying to calm myself, I look up at Tor, who is standing close to the queen, his face a blank mask.

"Not at all, Your Majesty, just a misunderstanding," Naril interjects from Eldrin's side, his face set into a pleasant smile.

"I see," she muses. I finally meet her gaze, feeling more under control now, and I'm glad I waited until I calmed down. She looks at me as if she's just smelled something bad, her nose wrinkled delicately as she watches me with distaste. "There seem to be a lot of misunderstandings where the human is involved." Finally, she turns back to Eldrin, and I feel like I can breathe again, not realising I'd been holding my breath. "I'm surprised to see you here, Eldrin." It's easy to hear the anger in her voice now as she steps closer to the scarred twin. The change in him is visible. His head droops as he stares at the ground, and his body seems to have shrunk into itself.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I was just leaving." I've never heard his voice so dejected before, and I know I shouldn't rub salt into his wounds, but I can't help myself—he brings out a dark side of me that I wish would remain hidden.

"Don't leave on my account," I spit, drawing a light tinkling laugh from the queen.

"Oh yes, listen to the human, Eldrin, why don't you stay?" she suggests lightly, enjoying the tension between me and the dishonoured elf.

"With regret, Your Majesty, I must leave. I'm needed on the border patrol." He keeps his head hanging low, but I don't miss his flinch as she laughs again.

"Go." She dismisses him with a flick of her wrist and turns back to me. Eldrin straightens, and just before he skulks away, our eyes meet. I'd been expecting to see anger, but I am shocked to see a melancholy look that makes my heart hurt.

"You're quite the troublemaker, Clarissa ," the queen remarks, the emphasis on my name pulling my attention back to her. I'm still angry, but not at Eldrin anymore, at the queen. How could she treat one of her subjects like that? I can understand her treating me badly, in fact I expect it now, but not one of her own.

"The fault was mine, Your Majesty," Tor interjects, laying a gentle hand on her arm. Her eyes light up as she looks between the two of us, sensing my jealousy at the touch. My anger flares, growing for each second that he doesn't remove his hand, and it's like my whole vision narrows down to where he touches her skin. I don't own Tor, I have no right to be angry if he wants to touch her, and the queen loves that.

"I see. Why don't you come and explain everything to me?" she purrs, placing her hand on top of his.

"Of course," Tor responds with a smile, looking over his shoulder at me. "Goodnight, Clarissa."

The queen turns her back on me and strolls towards her throne. Bold move, turning her back on someone she considers her enemy.Tor's eyes apologise as he walks away, and I know he'd rather be here with me. That's the only thing that stops me from following.

Reaching up, I rub at the place in chest where my bonds reside. Where is Vaeril? I obviously upset him when I agreed to dance with Tor. Uncertainty and anxiety war within me, and I feel so out of place here, which is probably exactly how the queen wants me to feel.

A hand touches my arm, startling me from glaring at the queen's back, and I know I'm attracting attention. Taking a deep breath, I turn with a smile and see that Saril has made her way over. She is watching me with a worried expression. Her partner at her side, however, is wearing a joyful smile, chuckling quietly to himself.

"Why don't we come to these things more often, Saril?" Taelir exclaims. "That was the most entertainment I've had in years."