To get to the faeries, we need to once again travel the troll lands and then cross a valley of ice and snow to Forever. Unfortunately, rain meets us when we cross the bridge and coupled with the freezing temperatures as we move closer to the faeries lands, we're forced to take a break. Thankfully we come across another old troll temple just as the icy rains intensify to blinding sheets of white. But while I'm grateful for the shelter, I don't know how to feel about being alone with Roane again. 

I'm not frightened of him; he released the Shadowmen and returned to his normal state. But he's a prince. The prince. Every conversation we ever had, every battle we fought side by side...every time we Shared, and he never bothered to tell me that it's him who's expected to take on the darkness. I try to look at the bigger picture, but his omission echoes between us. 

I lay down on the altar. Roane stays fixed by the door. Thunder rumbles, but between us, there's only silence. What feels like an hour passes and the rain shows no signs of letting up. Roane abandons his post by the door and within minutes has stacked a pile of wood and kindling before the altar where I lay.

"We should camp here for the night," he says. Taking a cobwebbed covered bowl and urn, he brushes off the dust and sets them outside.

I walk to the door and peek to the black skies. Lightning frames the clouds that shift quickly across the sky at the hands of the gusting winds. Still, I shrug. "I'd rather keep going."

"It's too dangerous. We can hardly see what's out there."

I chuckle bitterly. "What difference does it make? I didn't see what was in front of me this entire time."

He meets my eyes at that, his mouth flat. "Fair enough, but however you feel right now isn't going to change the weather. Walking out there blind will only get you sick or us killed."

He's right, but I'm angry so I walk back into the altar and away from him. It hurts to be near him, it hurts that through it all, he didn't feel confident enough to trust in me. It hurts that I care so much for someone again that I'm set to lose.

Roane tosses one final plank onto the pile and kneels before it. He cups his fingers over it. A spark of fire snaps from his hand, and the next moment, a raging flame burns before me.

But again, I'm angry and so I lay back and scoff. "You're not supposed to use magic for personal gain... white magic, anyway."

He stands and gazes down into the fire. "I'm not," he says, his voice low and hurt. With no more words, he walks out into the cold and rain.

A jolt wakes me, as does Roane's far away voice. My bones ache from all of the fighting and running, and my mind has a hard time registering what Roane says. I open my eyes and bolt upward. Men dressed in white robes encircle us, tall and threatening. The moonlit radiance of their skin spirals into the fading night like wisps of smoke. They look to be borne of snow, and their expressions etched of ice. I want to be scared, but they're so beautiful I can only stare.

One of them steps forward. "Identify yourselves." His voice blends into the serene atmosphere of their presence, just as beautiful and cold.

"How about you go first?" Roane says.

The man smirks. "My name is Addamack, guard to the throne of Forever."

I stifle a gasp. "Faeries..."

"What I would like to know is how a troll managed to slip out of the Nether..." His blue eyes narrow. "Not to mention what a human is doing on Fae land? You do know the penalty for trespassing is death."

"This is Elven land," Roane rumbles. "And you won't want to kill us. I think your king will want that pleasure."

Addamack's fine mouth spreads to a smile. He laughs then. The rippling sound tickles down my spine in waves of pleasure that curl at my stomach. I've read of Fae glamour, the intoxicating and hypnotizing power that makes them appear more beautiful and enticing than they already are. It's especially strong against humans, but I never imagined it capable of making a laugh debilitating.

"And who might you be to believe that the High King would grant you an audience," Addamack asks, "much less give you the honor to die by his blade?"

Roane steps forward. The Fae guards draw their swords in unison, the slice of metal piercing the quiet. I tug at Roane's shirt, but he doesn't back down.

"My name is Roane, Crown Prince to the Throne of the Dark Elves."

"Anyone can make ridiculous claims."

Roane peels off his sweatshirt and throws it at Addamack's feet. Upon seeing the myriad tattoos on Roane's body, Addamack's smile withers, leaving but ice in his eyes. His hand tightens around his blade and my pulse quickens; he can cut down Roane in one strike. Thankfully, he whirls a finger. Two guards come forward, binding Roane's wrists. They then tie mine, the thin white ropes like thorny vines digging into my wrists.

Sliding his sword back into his sheath, Adamack turns and lead the way out. The last I see before a hood is thrown over my head is Roane pulled out ahead of me with the posture of a warrior and the air of a prince.

For some time, I don't know which is worse—the freezing rain, the fact I can't see a thing through the hood over my head, or the snow entombing my legs up to my knees.

After miles, where I can no longer feel my feet or my wrists, the ground solidifies beneath me. The air has taken a deeper chill, and a faint light spills in through the darkness of my hood. Every part of me knows we're within the walls of Forever. Its magic pricks at my skin, and in spite of being dragged in here as a prisoner, a smile curls my lips.

The groaning of doors and gates resound until finally we come to a stop and the hood is snapped from over my head. I wince at the faint light that is too bright to my eyes and haul in a breath that makes me cringe as it chills my lungs.

A throne is before us, fashioned out of moonstone and surrounded by moonflowers. Fireflies dance in the spaces above our heads, their light illuminating the room in gold. One draws closer and I realize it's not a firefly at all. Like the sprites, this small light has the shape of a girl at center, and I remember the stories of the pixies that traveled with Finvarra when he was banished to the human realm.

I'm rapt by its light and while I know I should be afraid, I find I don't care about what they mean to do to us. All I can do is follow the dance of the pixies and smile at this place that is more dream than reality. Nothing real can be this beautiful, serene, and perfect.

Hands come onto my shoulders and spin me back to the throne.

"Kneel," Addamack orders. Before we can comply, they knock Roane and me in the back of the knees and force us to kneel. I groan and lift my head to protest, but then I see him and my words die.

A train of glowing guards enter the room, and in their midst, a king.

King Finvarra strides into the room, his long, embroidered white duster trailing behind him. Golden locks fall neatly against the wintry fabric, pale like his smooth skin that radiates a cool, silver glow. Mouth tight, he scrutinizes Roane in passing and the temperatures plummet. He stops before the massive throne and icy blue eyes meet mine.

I'm frozen, only able to think of stars. His eyes glitter like the very stars at night, and the longer I look at him, the more I want to reach out and touch them, touch him. Wish upon them...wish for him. He is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and there is nothing he could ask me that I won't give him.

He turns his gaze away, and I find my breath again, but can't keep from watching him sit at his throne and settle back. He exhales. It brushes about the room as a sigh, a whispering caress scented of vanilla, and I haul it in as if needing it to survive. His glamour is supreme and I know this devotion to him and need for him isn't real, but the longer I look at him, the hazier my thoughts grow until there is only him.

"I sent my men to inspect a fire left at a temple and find signs that someone has been trespassing onto our land, land I deemed cursed and forbidden. You were smart enough to leave, and yet, foolish enough to return, why? What business do a troll and a human have that requires intruding onto my land? And not just any repulsive, disgusting troll either, but the grandson of the beast who nearly cost me my kingdom and my life. You deserve more than death." The ground crackles and a web of ice crawls toward us slowly, promising of pain. I look at Finvarra and find I don't care about death.

"But you did ask to see me. While it delays your execution, it does not prevent it. So," he whirls a hand, "say what needs to be said, troll, so that I can kill you."

"Please sir," I say; not realizing the words have left my mouth until it's too late. "We mean no harm. We're not trespassers—"

Whatever else I mean to say dies on my lips when he turns his gaze to me, levelly, those blue eyes piercing enough to look into my soul. A small smile curls the side of his mouth.

"Familiar words," he murmurs. "Familiar words that may have just saved your life, but not your friend's..."

Commotion erupts from outside of the hall. King Finvarra stands just as the guards part and a woman in a white gown walks through them. An intricate crown of gnarled branches adorns her head and I know who she is instantly. Tales are told of her, of the mortal woman who tamed the womanizing Fae king. It was her love that broke the spell that kept him bound to the human realm.

"Queen Leanna," I breathe.

Brown eyes meet mine. Though she is pale like Finvarra, there is no iciness in her demeanor, rather a warmth and kindness that runs deep and cuts through the haziness of his glamour in my mind.

"Leanna, you should be resting," Finvarra says, but she moves forward in spite of his words as though floating on a cloud.

She stops before me, glances at my bound hands, and her lips bow to a frown. She turns to the guard beside me. "Release her."

Finvarra is next to her in an instant, his hand raised. The guard flinches and shifts back. "She travels with a troll, my love. She is dangerous."

Leanna looks to him, a simple look, but he lowers his hand and deflates with a sigh. It's obvious she alone can bend him and he could deny her nothing. "Very well, release her."

The guard releases my binds. I stumble forward onto my hands, but Queen Leanna puts a hand on my elbow and helps me stand. Roane remains on his knees, his eyes downcast.

She presses a hand to my cheek, her fingers cold. "You're freezing. A blanket," she orders over her shoulder while at her side, Finvarra squeezes the bridge of his nose.

"These conditions are not made for a human, especially a winter in Forever. Why did you come?" She drapes the woolen blanket given her by a guard around my shoulders, and leads me forward to pew like seats against the walls. She sits beside me. "Lara told me you would come, but I thought she would have told you of the conditions—"

"You knew a Troll would be coming onto Fae land and yet said nothing?" Finvarra speaks from his throne. "I agreed to a council with the witch, but never with this."

Leanna's shoulders lower with a sigh. "I did not know about him, but if he travels with her, there must be good reason." She turns to me. "Lara wrote to me and told me she would come, yet I never heard from her again. Is he the only one you travel with? I expected to see her with you. Did she not come?"

Tightness wells in my chest. "The Great Mistress is dead."

Leanna gasps, cupping her mouth. "How? She did not mention being ill."

I take in a breath, and as best I can, explain to her Lara's sacrifice.

"And you believe him?" Finvarra scoffs. "His people are liars, filthy opportunists. I daresay he drained her himself. It wouldn't be the first time for a troll to lie, all with the hopes of assuming control of Forever and the realms beyond her borders."

I look to Roane. He hadn't told me he was a prince, but he'd never hurt me. I shake my head. "Some of them may be, but not all. Not him. I trust him."

Leanna's hands cradle mine and she squeezes them gently. "What happens now? Lara was assembling the realms, but if she's passed, who will do it?"

"I will," I say in my most stable voice. "I'll try my best to see her plans come to pass, but I need him," I say, glancing at Roane. "I wouldn't have made it this far without him, and I can't go on without him by my side."

Roane lifts his head at this and meets my eyes for the first time since arriving in Forever.

Finvarra's lips flatten. "What good could he possibly do?"

"He will negotiate on behalf of all Dark Elves. Not all of them are evil and not all of them want to live in the Nether's constant darkness. They shouldn't. The crimes of their fathers should not be paid by their children's children. We can change the way things are. I understand your hatred, but how are we better than they when we allow for innocents to suffer unjustly."

"Simple. Because they are the enemy and cannot be trusted." He arches a brow as though challenging me to continue.

In spite of his beauty and glamour enough to bring me to my knees, my pulse pounds and I take on his dare. "They aren't the enemy. Not anymore, and they will need us now more than ever. The peace and survival of every realm depends on us putting aside our judgments and hate, and saving the elves. Just before we came here, we discovered our leader, Mage Edwards plans to kill Roane during the Swelling ceremony and assume control of the Nether. He's been stealing witches and giving them to the elves, all to set them up and blame them for breaking the treaty, to justify the takeover. Human magicians are assembling for war and he's claimed that whoever is against him is the enemy and will be eliminated. Once he possesses control of black magic, he plans to bring it out of the Nether."

Finvarra bolts to his feet, his eyes very blue. A sheet of ice cracks beneath our feet with a deafening crash. "Black magic remains in the Nether and we will fight to the death to keep it there."

"No." Leanna stands, a hand pressed to her core. "Our child will not be born into a world of blood and hate. If helping the Elves will keep war from our lands, we will help them."

Lips set tight, Finvarra turns his eyes to Roane and considers this. With the whirl of a hand, he motions for the guards to raise him.

"Your grandfather's blood should be on my blade," he says. "But I will spare you until I can find proof of whether or not the human girl's words are true." Slow steps bring him before Roane. "If the girl is right, can you stop this war?"

Roane glares at the guards who release him. Rolling his shoulders, he meets Finvarra's stare. "I can, but I have to get back before the Swelling."

My heart stirs and a knot clenches in my throat.

Finvarra nods, his gaze far away. He paces around Roane, each tap of his footfalls dragging him deeper into thought. He stops. "Very well. You will relinquish your weapons and stay with us until we can verify your claims. If it is as she says, then you will ride out with my best men."

"What for?" Roane asks.

Finvarra looks at him side-eyed. "No one threatens me or my land. If the humans plan to infiltrate the Swelling, then so will we."

Thanks so much for reading!! I just posted another chapter so... Enjoy!