Dark Faerie (Alfheim Academy: Book Two)

Chapter 1

RULING A REALM WAS never going to be easy. I wasn’t stupid. I’d known taking on this job at this time would create an unfathomable amount of stress. Everyone from my aunt to my friends to the queen herself had told me as much.

As the crown princess of Alfheim, my duties consisted of co-ruling with a grandmother whose inability to job-share was a living nightmare, fighting the queen’s monster minister of state on every single freaking point, and trying to convince our tyrannical cabinet members to do literally anything good. Ever. On top of ruling our hot mess of a kingdom, I was supposed to be finishing my third year at Alfheim Academy, acing my final exams, and preparing for a formal dinner with a visiting royal family who thought we were the cosmos’ biggest idiots. Because we were.

This was so not what I’d signed up for.

The next matter on our agenda is tomorrow’s state dinner. My grandmother’s prim voice cut through my mental chatter.

I forced myself out of my head by focusing on the shiny, lacquered floor of Queen Constance’s office. Like everything else in the royal residence, it was polished to perfection. In front of me, Constance’s ornately carved desk sparkled beneath the glistening chandelier. And her smudge-free floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked gardens that were somehow always in bloom. Did the gardeners perform nightly replants? As scary as Constance was, I wouldn’t put it past them.

You are to meet me in my drawing room fully dressed at five o’clock tomorrow evening. Constance’s shimmering wings fluttered lightly behind her as she leaned forward in her chair. Like me, she was an älva—a faerie. "I shouldn’t have to say this, but in light of last week’s incident, I’m compelled to remind you that you must wear an appropriate gown. Also, appropriate footwear, she added when I opened my mouth. No combat boots."

Heat crept along my neck.

That briefing said we were going to a swordsmanship demonstration, I muttered. I thought I’d be participating.

You were not, the queen said stiffly. And you looked silly sitting in the royal box, dressed for sport.

Obviously.

Vendya will personally dress Aura for tomorrow’s event. Our protocol advisor, Eunice, chimed in. I’ll confirm her fitting after this meeting.

Excellent. Constance stared at me. Do I need to impress upon you the importance of this dinner?

I bit back the reply that danced on my tongue. This state dinner with Vanaheim’s royal family would be our first in seventeen years—since before Constance had created the blockade that kept off-worlders from entering our realm. The Alfheim Barrier had caused a lot of discord, and this was the first step in mending fences . . . and in asking for help rebuilding our world. We’d done plenty of damage since Narrik had taken over as minister of state, and our leaders could learn a lot from Vanaheim’s. If they’re even willing to teach us.

Aura? Constance arched her brow.

No, I said quietly. You don’t need to explain. I know what a big deal this is.

I’m glad, Constance said. "With our Opprør senators still missing, it’s more important than ever that you align yourself with influential leaders. Particularly those whose values mirror your own."

Eunice shifted in the chair beside me, crossing her feet at the ankles as she passed me a leather-bound packet. This is our most current briefing on Vanaheim’s royal family. It should tell you everything you need to know about their political and personal histories. It also provides conversational points pertaining to private interests, from sport to art to literature. It will behoove you to memorize its contents in advance of tomorrow’s dinner.

I weighed the massive booklet in one hand. This briefing is intense, Eunice. Even for you.

My advisor ducked her head. Thank you.

It hadn’t been a compliment.

That reminds me. My grandmother turned to our advisor. Prepare a briefing for Aura on the customs and procedures pertaining to our dealings with the meadow elves. They’ve requested a meeting regarding the deterioration of the eastern poppy fields, and I’d like Aura to chair the response.

Eunice opened the gilded notebook she always carried. Of course.

You’d like me to do what now? I shifted my focus from Eunice’s sparkly calendar.

On account of our . . . tenuous relationship with the colonies near Meina, Constance began.

"You mean Meina, the town your minster of state torched to quell a much-deserved rebellion? That Meina?"

Crown Princess. Eunice tutted. Show some decorum.

I stated a fact, I pointed out. Last year, Fyrs Narrik lit up a town because its citizens challenged him. People died. This is not news.

Regardless. Eunice shook her head. "It would behoove you to exercise diplomacy in all dealings—including those with your queen."

My co-regent. We’ve had equal responsibilities for what, half a year now? Feels longer, I muttered as I turned back to Constance. So, let me guess—these meadow elves were adversely affected by the fire?

Correct. Constance glanced at a piece of paper on her desk. A portion of their fields have stopped producing, which caused the death of a . . . worm species, I believe. Which caused the avians who cross-pollenated their crops to evacuate. Which has led to the—how did they put it? ‘Complete collapse of their ecological infrastructure.’

My eyes widened. What have we done to fix it?

To date, it looks like . . . Constance scanned the paper. Nothing.

Seriously? I reached across the desk and ripped the page from Constance’s bony hand.

Crown Princess!

Sorry, not sorry, Eunice. I scanned the document. Jeez. That fire was nine months ago. This says it’s their fifth time requesting a meeting. Have we just been ignoring them?

Constance raised her chin. The crown has many pressing matters.

Uh-huh, I said drily. So, you’re passing this one off to me?

Constance straightened her spine against the embroidered pillow lining her chair. Eunice, send word to the meadow elves they shall have their meeting with the Crown Princess on Saturday. She will personally hear their grievances.

As you wish, Your Majesty. Eunice’s ruby fingernails gripped her pen. Her unnaturally tidy script filled the page of her notebook. Will the rest of the cabinet be joining her?

Blood rushed from my face. The rest of the—wait. What?

Only the senior members. Constance drummed her fingertips against the polished wood of her desk.

Hold on. I raised my hand. The senior members of your cabinet are Narrik, and three of his goons.

Language, Eunice tutted.

Goons isn’t a bad word!

"It’s a word unbecoming of royalty. It would behoove you to act and speak as the co-regent you are, at all times."

Again with the behoove-ing. If Eunice said that word one more time, I would offer to tattoo it to her forehead.

Fine. I’m not on great terms with the senior members of your cabinet—or any of your cabinet, actually. It was true. Constance’s cabinet had remained unchanged, despite our new job-share. They were pro-Narrik, pro-government control, and extremely anti-me. Plus, they’d been the ones who caused the fire the meadow elves had suffered from in the first place. Can’t I just take the meeting alone?

Our bylaws prohibit it. Eunice shook her head. Her bun was so tight, her hair didn’t move at all. I understand you have found working with the existing cabinet to be difficult.

Cue the understatement police.

But rules are rules. And Alfheim has operated as it is for centuries. A regent simply does not take a meeting alone. The precedent it would set . . . Eunice shuddered.

I sighed. So, it’s me, Narrik, and the goons—yes, I am calling them goons—taking the meeting. When will it be?

Saturday afternoon, at two. Constance paged through the calendar on her desk. Though the rest of us used data pads, she and Eunice clung to the organizational system they’d developed decades ago. It’s the first date the cabinet members will be free. Usually I do not ask them to work that late in the week, but seeing as they will be breaking for their summer recess the following Monday, they should cede my request.

"Perfekt." I mentally added meet with jerky cabinet members on first day of summer vacation to my to-do list.

Who said being a princess isn’t fun?

My gaze caught on the framed portrait of Queen Constance’s cabinet. In it, the ten members stood proudly on the steps of the senate building. Although we were a monarchy, the regent carried only one-third of the realm’s decision-making authority. The other thirds went to the cabinet and the senate, respectively. Which meant that the ten jerks in the picture carried enormous power—a fact they held over our heads daily.

Hey. I turned back to Constance. "Any chance we’re going to get to swap out some of those cabinet members for ones who actually like me? Ever?"

That would require a vote, Eunice reminded me. "And with the Opprør senators still missing, it is highly unlikely their Kongelig counterparts would unseat members of their own party."

I gritted my teeth. I had to ask.

Eunice shot me a sympathetic look. She’d seen my grandmother through the early years of her reign. She’d never admit it, but she’d been hurt that Constance had allowed the realm to fall into chaos. I supposed it was why she was so tough on me. I was her do-over—her chance to guide a more progressive, less tyrannical regent at the start of her time on the throne. And, hopefully, shape a brighter future for our realm.

Too bad Alfheim’s political structure gave me basically zero authority.

Are we finished? Constance made a mark on her calendar. I have a luncheon to attend.

And I have a final exam. I stood. I’m good here, right?

Let me just confirm your regent schedule, Princess. Eunice glanced at her notebook. On Saturday, you’ll meet with the meadow elves and the senior cabinet members at the senate building. I’ll message a briefing to you no later than dinnertime tonight. The state dinner will be held tomorrow, here at the royal residence. I’ll have the seamstress stop by your dormitory this evening for your fitting. Afterwards, she will coordinate with your date on his ensemble.

Right. Let’s add try on dresses to the week’s crazy.

"Regarding your academics, your Verge final is—"

Soon. I glanced at the clock on Constance’s office wall. It’s soon, so if we could wrap this up—

"It will behoove you to hear your complete schedule," Eunice said primly.

Fourth time’s a charm. Behoove tattoo time!

Snort.

Fine. Lay it on me. I crossed my arms, mentally running through the combat sequences I’d have to execute for that afternoon’s test.

"Your Empati exam is tomorrow morning, followed by your History of Alfheim exam in the afternoon. I trust you have remained on top of your studies this semester?"

Of course. I nodded at Eunice. "But if you don’t let me go soon, I’ll flunk Verge on account of absenteeism."

Eunice turned her torso to Constance. I am finished with the crown princess if you are.

Go. My grandmother flicked her wrist. Score well. Bring glory to the crown.

She had the weirdest way of saying good luck.

Okay. See you guys, uh . . . tomorrow night, I guess.

At the state dinner, Eunice reminded me.

Yep. And I will be totally prepared. I promise. I picked up my books and the Vanaheim briefing, and backed slowly out of the room. Have fun with your—oof!

Breath whooshed from my lungs as my spine struck something hard. My balance unhinged and I stumbled forward, spilling the contents of my arms on the ground. I dropped to a knee to retrieve my belongings. As I did, I caught sight of narrow black boots in my periphery. They were so shiny, I was able to catch my surprised reflection in their well-kept depths.

Skit. What’s he doing here?

The princess has fallen. Minister Narrik’s cold voice broke the silence. I slid my gaze upward, taking in his all-black ensemble of neatly pressed slacks, and his fitted military jacket, and a cap that he’d placed atop his slightly-too-small head. Whatever shall we do?

Help me up, for starters. I retrieved my gear, and pushed myself to my feet.

I wouldn’t want to interfere with your . . . independence. Narrik looked down his narrow nose at me.

No. My knuckles whitened as I gripped my books. It’s not like you to interfere with things.

Narrik’s nostrils flared. He arched one brow, no doubt intending to launch into whatever tirade he was riding that day. But before he could speak, Eunice’s head shake caught my eye.

Do not engage, she mouthed. Please.

Fine.

I drew a slow breath, and turned toward the exit. Without another word, I marched through the door. When I was outside Constance’s office, Narrik chuckled.

Leave us, Eunice, he said quietly. The queen and I have things to discuss.

I don’t have you on my agenda. My grandmother’s voice trembled over the final word. Was she . . . afraid?

Well, you are on mine. Narrik’s words carried a hint of a threat. Leave us, Eunice. Now.

Yes, minister. Eunice’s footsteps scurried across the polished floor. I slowed my steps as the door clicked closed behind me. When I turned around, I caught my advisor’s worried look.

What’s that about? I whispered.

It’s not my place to ask. Nor is it yours. Don’t you have an exam to attend? She ran a hand along her graying hairline.

I do. And Alfheim Academy was a solid twenty minute’s jog from the royal residence. But for this, I’d cut it close.

I inched toward the door, and pressed my ear to the wall.

Crown Princess, Eunice admonished.

Shh! I held a finger to my lips. I’m regent-ing.

Absolutely not. Narrik’s angry voice pierced the quiet. As far as I am concerned, this matter was resolved weeks ago. I won’t be addressing it again.

Eunice’s brows knitted together in worry.

I am your regent. Constance’s pitch betrayed her frustration. And as an appointed member of my cabinet, you would do well to—

"What I’ll do well, Your Majesty, is exactly what you brought me on to do—keep the wolves at bay. At least for a little while longer."

What does that mean? Constance asked.

Sharp footsteps moved toward the door. I stepped back as it opened just enough for me to catch Narrik’s hushed threat.

Need I remind you how easy it would be to replace a monarch?

Eunice’s sharp inhale pulled my attention from the door. With her wide eyes and white-knuckled grip on her notebook, the woman perfectly reflected my own feelings. What the Helheim was going on between Constance and Narrik? And why was the queen letting anyone talk to her like that?

As I debated whether to burst in and defend my grandmother’s dubious honor, the door opened fully and Narrik slipped through. He paused briefly as he passed me, his cold, soulless stare holding me in its icy grip. My insides clenched. Was I the monarch he intended to replace? Right then?

But he kept walking, moving down the hall in clipped strides until his figure disappeared around the corner.

When he was gone, I turned to Eunice in shock. What. The. Actual. Helheim?

Narrik’s