Like the Dawn (Lark #3) (8 page)

Chapter Nine

             
I
feel self-conscious as I make my way down the spiral staircase into the main corridor. The tiara is surprisingly light, but for some reason wearing it makes me feel like there's a weight on my shoulders.
              Grey is there wearing the typical tunic-style shirt that the male elves often sport. It's a dark navy color that somehow makes his eyes look bluer.
              “I thought I'd offer some emotional support,” he says as I approach him.
              “Do you think I'm going to mess up?” I ask nervously. If I was nervous before, it's nothing compared to what I feel now. In fact, I think I might puke all over Grey's shoes.
              “Perhaps,” he says as he flashes me a crooked smile.
              “Gee, thanks.” I take deep soothing breaths and lean against the cool stony wall to try to stop the nausea before it becomes unbearable.
              I think Grey realizes I'm about to get sick and feels bad. He quickly tries to make amends.
              “I'm only teasing, Mia.” His velvety voice sends chills down my spine.
              “But you're probably right,” I admit slowly, not wanting to open my mouth too wide—just in case.
              “Come here,” he says as he pulls me into a tight hug. “You'll be fine. I promise.”
              “I don't know if I can believe that.”
              “You should.” He releases me. “Come on. The guests will be arriving soon.”
              Grey stands by my side as the guests start to arrive and I greet them one by one. This whole process seems tedious since most of them are staying in the castle currently anyway but it's the way things are done and besides, I could use the practice since we will be having real guests in a few days. 
              “Be nice,” Grey suddenly mutters under his breath.
              “I'm always nice,” I whisper back and then I see the reason behind Grey's warning.
              I certainly wasn't expecting one of the guests that I was to greet to be my least favorite pompous ass-hat. But there he is, staring at me with that arrogant smile of his. Of course he would be here tonight, most of the council normally joins us for dinner. I'm just usually not in charge of greeting them so I'm able to avoid talking to Blaise. Tonight, however, it seems I won't be able to avoid the unpleasantness.
              “Lord Blaise,” I greet him with a forced smile. “How nice to see you this evening.” I don't mean it. At all. The guy is a total jerk and my last encounter with him was hardly pleasant but everyone in this room is watching and expecting me to be friendly. Since I kind of need them all to like me, the least I can do is suck it up and plaster a fake smile on my face. But I'm totally imagining kicking the dude in his balls.
              “Princess Mia.” He kisses my hand as he peers up at me from beneath his impossibly long lashes. Does he wear mascara? Quite frankly, I wouldn't put it past him. He adds, “You look lovely as always.”
              “Thanks.” I'm really trying to be gracious. I wonder if he can hear the disdain in my voice.
              “May I sit next to you while we dine?”
             
While we dine? Dude, is this guy eighty?
Then I laugh to myself because honestly, he's probably a lot older than that.
              “
I do believe Aunt Isobel said he was 120. So technically he's younger than Grey.”
              I freeze when I hear Jacoby's familiar voice in my mind. Everything else around me fades into an indistinct haze consisting of blended colors and background noise swirling around because all I hear is
him
.
              “
Are you here?”
I ask him using Mind-speak and look around the room in a vain attempt to spot him somehow. He doesn't reply. I continue to look for him anyway. I think Blaise is saying something to me but I can’t hear him. Grey nudges me ever-so-slightly bringing me back to reality.             
              “I'm sorry—what did you say?”
              “I was just commenting on how I wanted to put forth my offer of marriage before the other kingdoms sent their best men,” Blaise says with an annoyingly cocky grin.
              “Hold up—what? Are you drunk?” I hear Grey clear his throat in obvious disapproval.
              “His Majesty may be forbidding the council from forcing you into an arranged marriage, but really, it is only a matter of time. Now that you will be queen,  there are bound to be some elves intent on gaining a little bit of power—and it makes sense, Álfheimr is the strongest of the three kingdoms after all. However, I feel—and I suspect that His Majesty will agree with me which is why he is so against obtaining the alliance through a royal marriage— ”              “Marriage?” I interrupt him, choking the word out. “You've got to be kidding me!  I'm only eighteen—there is absolutely no way I'm getting married any time soon!” If ever, I add to myself.
              “Of course you aren't required to take a husband—not yet anyway—but everyone knows that males are naturally more competent rulers so it just makes sense.”
              “What's that supposed—”
              “And on that note—Princess, shall I escort you to your seat?” Grey steers me away quickly before I do something stupid like punch Blaise in the face.               Males are more competent rulers? Is he serious? There is just something about stupid boys that makes me turn violent.
              Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear Jacoby chuckling.
              I halt my steps and Grey turns back to see what's wrong.
              “It's nothing. Just the voices in my head distracting me like normal.” I give him an apologetic smile.
              “Mia, you know that's not exactly 'normal',” he says  with that crooked smile that I love.
              “It's normal for me,” I defend.
              “He's still around?”
              "Yeah—wait, how did you know about...?" I trail off, unsure if Grey actually means what I think he means. How could he possibly know about Jacoby's and my ability to speak to each other this way?
              "Well, I didn't know for sure, but I guess I do now. I've always watched over you very carefully, you know.” He pauses thoughtfully before continuing, “So is he?”
              I've never told anyone about this strange connection Jacoby and I share so it baffles me that Grey picked up on it.
              “I'm not really sure. I don't know where he is but I'm guessing he's somewhere close.”
              “But you are the one who ended things with him correct?”
              “Yes.”
              “Do you regret it?” he asks hesitantly, as though he doesn't really want to know the answer.
              I know I should answer him honestly, but it feels weird talking to him about this. Especially now that I know Grey wants more than just friendship. So I take the coward's way out and say, “No, of course not.”
              But the fact is that I do regret it. I don't know if it was just hearing his voice after so long or something else.
              “Come here,” Grey whispers as he gestures to one of the side doors.
              “Grey! I can't. I have to greet—”
              “It's fine, most everyone is already here and I doubt anyone will notice.”
              I glance around the room to make sure we can sneak away unnoticed and I happen to see Isobel standing next to my father, laughing at something that he said.
              Alberico never married—I suspected the reason for his eternal bachelorhood was because he was still in love with my mother.  But now that he has seen her again and has met my stepdad Paul, maybe he can finally move on.
              Grey’s right—nobody is paying us any attention so I follow him out of the room in silence until we are in one of the hallways of the east wing. There isn't anyone nearby since everyone is either in the kitchen or helping serve the dinner party.
              “Look, Blaise is an idiot, but he's right,” Grey whispers. “He was telling the truth. The council does want you to marry the heir of one of the kingdoms.”
              “You've got to be kidding me.”
              “I only wish I was.” His indigo eyes look down at me wistfully. “Alberico is obviously against forcing your hand.”
              “Of course he is.” My father was the kindest person I knew. “That's it, isn't it? The secret?”
              “I'm afraid so,” Grey confirms. “Despite Alberico's refusal, I'd be very surprised if the other kingdoms didn't begin throwing their heirs at your feet.”
              “But I thought that they all wanted nothing to do with our war with the Dark Elves? Wouldn't marrying me force them to be involved?”
              “Yes, of course it would, but I believe that they might find the risk worth gaining the power. Blaise was right about that too—the temptation of having control over the kingdom of Álfheimr might be enough. Of course, you should also expect the eligible elves in our own kingdom to do the same.”
              “Seriously?”
              “Seriously,” he says, then pauses for a moment. “Mia, I must ask, have you thought any more about me—about us—you know, since the other day?”
              “Grey—I,” I start.
              “Because it would require special permission from the king for me to be able to pursue you and your father will probably never forgive me for falling in love with you.”
              “You would have to ask special permission to date me?”
              “Yes. I may be His Majesty's Consul, but I'm still considered a commoner. He might not grant me permission but I will beg for it if you say you will give me a chance.”
              “Why would you go through all that trouble?”
              “I assure you, you are worth it. You should know I would do anything for you by now.”
              “I know.”
              “Do you?”
              “Yes.”
              “Then won't you give me a chance?”
              “It's not that simple—”
              “Of course it is.”
              “It's too soon, Grey. I'm not in a place that I can even consider this right now.”
              He flinches like my confession hurt him.
              “I'm sorry. I just want to be honest with you.”              “I can appreciate that. But Mia,” he says as he closes the distance between us allowing his familiar apples and sandalwood scent to wash over me.
              I breathe in deeply remembering the butterflies that always used to stir in the pit of my stomach whenever he got this close. Memories of the way he used to stand directly behind me as we waited to clean the theaters at the end of each movie—so close that I could feel the warmth of his skin and feel the beating of his heart.
              Then, hesitantly, he leans down and presses his lips to my own. When he pulls away his indigo-blue eyes are ablaze and his velvet voice whispers in my ear, “I will wait for you forever.”
              Before I can tell him he shouldn't, he walks away.

Chapter Ten

             
T
he first of our potential allies are supposed to arrive tonight—King Magnus and his heir Lord Klaus—so this council meeting has been all about preparing me. Everyone is offering suggestions on what I should wear and giving me background information about Klaus.
              “You should give him a tour of the kingdom,” Odin tells me. “I imagine that the elves of Gautelfr would be particularly fond of our gardens since their cold climate prevents the cultivation of most botanicals.”
              “Wear a green dress, it will bring out your eyes,” Isobel suggests.
              “Don't pressure them too much to decide right away,” Anders instructs.
              “Be coy...if you make it too obvious they won't be as amiable,” Adele advises.
              Then Brigit adds, “Let them get to know you first and then ask.”
              Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't think twice about their eager words of wisdom but now that I know the council wants to force some arranged marriage on me, it's not hard to figure out their motive. It doesn't make me want to even be very nice to Klaus but I suppose I'll have to be. Maybe that's why they doubt me—I'm not exactly known for my patience or sound decision making.
              It seems that since everyone has some advice to offer me that they too lack confidence in my natural ability to win the other kingdoms over. They are just making me more nervous than I was to begin with.
              It all seems excessive to me. Why are we still sitting around eating exquisite food and talking—always talking—about what needs to be done but never actually making any progress. It's frustrating.
              Not that I really have any idea what we should be doing but it just feels like we're doing a whole lot of nothing. I'm hoping that tonight with the arrival of the King of Gautelfr that we will begin to take some steps in the right direction.
              And though I feel like we should be focusing less on me and my 'charms' and more on the issues at hand, I'm not going to argue. I just have to remember what's important here and that's acquiring the alliance. The process by which it happens isn't important as long as we are able to secure it.
              It's not possible to transport directly into another castle or house of residence without being granted permission first and even then permission is only granted in times of special circumstance. This happens to be one of those times and even though I was expecting them to suddenly appear out of nowhere, it still makes me jump when they finally arrive.
              “Magnus!” Alberico greets the king jovially. “So good of you to join us.”
              “Thank you for inviting us, Alberico. We are so looking forward to meeting your lovely daughter.”
             
Alberico introduces me first to King Magnus. The attractive king is just barely my height—by far the shortest elf I've met so far—with waist length white-blond hair and dark eyes that contrast handsomely.
              He actually kind of bears an uncanny resemblance to Orlando Bloom's character in the Lord of the Rings movies—just a far more petite version.
              I always thought that Orlando Bloom made a way hotter elf than human even before I knew elves were real and that I happened to be one—well partially anyway.
              “Princess Mia, may I introduce my heir, Lord Klaus.” King Magnus gestures to the slight male on his left.
              His cinnamon colored hair is kept uncharacteristically short for an elf, barely hanging over his slightly pointed ears and I'm pretty sure he uses some sort of hair product. It's styled just a little too perfectly to be natural. I kind of want to reach out and touch it to see if it's really as stiff as it looks. Fortunately, I have some restraint and keep my hands to myself. That probably wouldn't be a very endearing first impression.
              His light blue eyes are friendly, his nose a little long for his face, but he has a handsome dimple in his chin. All in all he isn't bad to look at, just nothing special.
              He steps forward, taking my hand in his and placing a light kiss on it before standing straight again. I notice his eyes shifting a little nervously as he takes in the rather large group of elves waiting to meet him.
              “How nice to finally make your acquaintance,” I tell him in an attempt to make him feel more at ease.
              “It's lovely to meet you as well, Princess.” His unusually high-pitched voice breaks when he says 'princess' almost like a boy who hasn't quite gone through puberty yet. His eyes are still shifting around, only now I realize that they aren't exactly shifting
nervously,
more like
curiously
, and he isn't examining the entire group, he's specifically eyeballing Grey.
              “Have you met Lady Adele?” I gesture toward Adele who is standing between me and Grey.
              “Yes, I do believe we've had the pleasure,” Adele answers first as she holds out her left hand.
              “Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” Klaus kisses her hand but he doesn't take his eyes off of Grey. There's something about the way he's looking at him that makes me think that maybe Klaus is a sucker for indigo-blue eyes—and not of the female variety.
              “And this is His Majesty's Royal Consul, Greyson St. Clair.”
              He reaches out to shake Grey's hand, smiling a little too brightly, but Grey doesn't seem to notice.               “We're happy to have you here, Lord Klaus,” Grey says formally.
              “Please, just call me Klaus,” he says with a wink.
              Okay, so maybe Klaus isn't so bad after all. He doesn't seem overly formal—which is definitely a plus.
              “Dinner is ready, if you'd like to follow—oh!” I somehow manage to step on the hem of my dress and my legs tangle beneath me. My arms wave wildly in the air as I try to regain my balance but all this accomplishes is knocking Klaus to the ground with me in a twisted heap of arms and legs.
              “I'm so sorry!” I apologize earnestly as I try to gather my composure. “I can't believe that just happened. Are you okay?”
              To my surprise, Klaus bursts into laughter as does King Magnus. Even Alberico can't seem to hide his amusement.
Thanks, Dad.
             
Klaus gets up first, offering his hand to help me stand.
             
“I must admit, this is a first—I don't believe a princess has ever fallen all over herself because of me before.” Klaus smiles playfully and I can tell he's trying to put me at ease.
              “I—uh—” I try to think of something to say that will make up for my blunder but come up with nothing.               
              I finally sigh in defeat and say with a shrug, “I'm definitely not your typical princess.”
              “No, I dare say you're not,” Klaus agrees. “But I must admit, I am rather relieved. I was certain this week was going to be dreadful, but now I think it might actually be quite fun.”
              “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”
              Klaus offers me his arm and escorts me into the dining hall. Whoever is in charge of decorating the castle for events has really outdone themselves. Especially considering this is just a dinner.
              After dinner our party gathers in one of the larger drawing rooms that only gets used when Alberico is entertaining a large group of elves—which is rarely ever so I've never actually been in this one.
              A gold colored geometric pattern looks striking on the ivory ceiling. The same pattern is imprinted in the silky wallpaper only in a more delicate tone-on-tone blue. It's so subtle that I only notice the pattern when the fading sunlight hits it just right.
              Alberico waves his hand in the air and the fireplace comes to life with warm flickering flames of orange and red. I wander around the vast room, taking in the detailed decor.
              The main focus of the room is a life-sized portrait of Alberico in his full kingly attire in an ornate gold frame.
              I take a seat in one of the pretty, but uncomfortable, chairs and Klaus takes the seat beside me.
              “Your castle is lovely,” he says conversationally.
              “It's not really mine,” I say automatically.
              “Oh?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Am I mistaken? Because I have it on good authority that you are the princess, after all.”
              “I just mean, it doesn't feel like mine. I live here now, but it's not really mine. It's my father's.”
              “I guess I understand where you're coming from. I suppose I feel the same way sometimes.”
              “You do?”
              “Yes, I think I do,” he says thoughtfully. “I am not sure if I will ever feel quite at home in the Gautelfr castle.”
              “Why not?” I asked, surprised. “I mean, I think I'd feel differently if I grew up here.”
              He chuckles. “I didn't grow up there.”
              “You aren't—?”
              “No, I'm not his son. Magnus never married so he has no biological heir.”
              If Klaus isn't the heir by birth, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I'm sitting beside one powerful elf.
              “What's your specialty?” I ask, seeing him in a whole new light.
              “Fire. What's yours?” he asks.
              “You don't know already?”
              “No, how would I?”
              “I figured information like that got around.”
              I can't help but eye him skeptically. Does he really not know?
              “I'm a Spirit user.”
              “You're joking.”
              “Afraid not.”
              “Wow—well, I guess—wow, I don't even really know what to say to that,” he stammers.
              “Can we just forget about it?”
              “I'm not sure if I'll be able to,” he says with a smile.
              I scoff. “Try.”
              “So what do you do, mighty Spirit user, when there's not a war with the Dökkálfar going on?”
              “Like for fun?”
              “Yeah, for fun.”
              “I don't really get to have much fun anymore.”
              “Well, we should change that travesty.”
              “So what about you?” I ask, deflecting the attention off of myself.
              “I enjoy horseback riding and—”
             
“Walks on the beach, candlelit dinners--can this guy get any more cliché?”
              Jacoby's voice distracts me from the rest of what Klaus is saying.
              “I wish you'd stop doing that,”
I tell him.
              “Doing what? Offering my witty commentary?”
              “It's distracting.”
              “Fine. Later, Lark.”
             
I want to stop him from leaving but I can't have him in my head right now.
              “Are you feeling okay, Princess?” Klaus asks.
              “Sorry, I just got a little dizzy,” I lie, hoping that he doesn't suspect anything funny.
              “I think I'll retire for the night,” Alberico announces.
              “Yes, I think I will too,” Magnus says.               “Greyson, would you please show our guests to their quarters?” Alberico asks.
              “Of course, Your Highness.” Grey bows then turns to Magnus and says, “If you'd follow me.”
              “I'll catch up in just a moment,” Klaus tells him before turning his attention back to me.
              Grey spares me one final glance before reluctantly leaving the room. I feel a little guilty that I didn't have a chance to talk to him after dinner.
             
“I'm sure pretty boy will get over it,”
Jacoby says again in my head.