Chapter 18: Chapter eighteen

The wind tugged playfully at my hair as the herd of Peryton broke through the clouds, and joyous laughter spilled from my lips as I leaned forwards, urging my mount to continue its upward ascent. The ease with which the Peryton’s powerful wings carried them through the sky would never cease to be astounding.

As we flew across the dark sky speckled with glittering stars, I lifted my arms, watching the silvery light emanating softly from my skin grow brighter as we ascended closer to the moon. Closing my eyes I willed the celestial mægen through my veins, feeling cool power flood through my every nerve as I embraced the moon.

The moon's power danced over me, tugging at my senses, calling for me. The sensual touch of celestial mægen continued to flow through me as I ascended higher, my arms outstretched towards the silvery moon. No other shone as brightly as I did under the light of Máni, not here at least. If faðir rode alongside us, his light would be the brightest of all, but only he, and Máni himself could outshine me in the two realms.

My glow marked me as the small moon of Svartálfaheimr, marked me as the future embodiment of Máni’s power. This light which shone from my skin could not be faked, for it was granted by Máni himself upon my birth. No matter the schemes of Norell, and Jerrik, they could never take this blessing from me, it would remain mine unto death.

“Hail Máni, sensuous cohort of the sleepless! May pleasure and riches be mine, beneath your placid silken shine. Máni, seep into my soul and grow, so the brightest silver I may glow.” The reverent prayer taught to every child of Svartálfaheimr came unbidden to my lips as I reveled in the silver light.

In a kingdom such as Svartálfaheimr where sovereign rule is justified on the basis of religion, it was imperative for the religion to be the absolute power within the kingdom, and to ensure that, all children were required to be educated within the temple of Máni from a young age.

I threw my head back with a moan, reveling in the strengthened mægen that flowed into me in response to my prayer. How long had it been since I was this close to the glorious caress of moonlight? How long had it been since I sat above the clouds upon the back of Peryton? Too long.

Tears spilled over my cheeks, and were captured by the wind as I gazed up at the silver orb that hung out of reach above me. The tears washed away the joy I previously felt, and replaced it with a deep longing for the home that awaited my return.

The Peryton I rode gave a low trilling cry as Helma, and her mount Valgerðr, darted in front of us, the doe’s tail feathers brushing over the muzzle of the stag I had borrowed for this jaunt into the skies above New York.

From her position ahead of my Peryton, the Víðarr twisted her head to look at me with a smile that conveyed a subtle challenge. I grinned in response, tugging on the Peryton’s reins to send us spiraling out of formation. The Riddari who flew alongside us directed their mounts to follow me downwards, and gave chase as I urged the Peryton into a fast dive.

The stag who carried me dipped, and dove through the clouds as I did my best to evade the other Peryton. Their ability to easily match me was a merit to their skill as Riddari, and the Peryton they rode.

As we descended to land on the lush lawns of Belvedere Castle I savored the overflowing feeling of happiness which consumed me. It was rare to have moments of playful freedom such as those I shared with the Riddari in the skies above New York, on the few occasions I did, I treasured each and every second.

Bidding farewell to the Riddari, I strolled towards the castle with carefree bounce in my steps, the smile adorning my face unwavering as I hummed softly under my breath. Though the sandy haired man standing just inside the doors of the castle quickly pierced the bubble of contentment I found myself in.

“Smártungl Elayna, may I please have an audience.”

My steps faltered, then stopped as I turned to face Lucas. This was the first time he’d used my title, and true name, he even spoke with proper etiquette despite his mistake in not first approaching Maitane or Lady Dagmar with his request.

“I have allocated a time after the skumre for the enclaves residents to speak with me on matters of concern.” I informed him, my smile now lost beneath a mask of impassivity. “That time has already passed for this nótt.”

“Ah-” He rubbed at the back of his neck, a flush creeping over his cheeks. “I do not know what that is- skumre, I mean.”

“The direct translation is twilight, it is what the Dökkálfar call the first meal of the night. Our version of breakfast.”

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess.” Lucas nodded, glancing down at his feet. “I wondered if I might have a private audience with you, Smártungl.”

The Skutilsveinr escorting me became tense, and I felt the mægen in the air become heavy as they strengthened the mægical barrier surrounding me.

“There are no matters that come to mind which would require a private audience.” It was obvious Lucas didn’t understand what he’d requested.

“It's about Ellie, the girl you replaced.”

The girl I- what? He didn’t appear to be suffering a head injury, perhaps he was befuddled? “I do not know what it is that you are inferring.”

Lucas let out a shaky breath, running his fingers through his already mussed hair. “I know you swapped places with Ellie, I- I just want to know where- if,” he swallowed, his expression pained as he looked at me. “Is she alive?”

“She is,” I said, tilting my head to the side as I waited to see how he would respond.

“Did she go to Níu Heimar? She always talked about going after she manifested. Els wanted to go to school there, but they don’t really accept people with our heritage without some kind of recommendation. You gave her one, didn’t you? In exchange for the whole swapping places with her, and her grandmother thing,” Lucas let out a forced laugh, waving his hand around in a wide arc. “I guess the incognito plan didn’t really work out, huh.”

“Is that all you wished to discuss?” I asked with feigned disinterest.

I should discuss the rumors surrounding my Ellie persona with Sorcha, and have her encourage people's belief in them. I doubted Lucas came to this conclusion on his own, but it did mesh well with the story the palace released about me traveling through the Nine as part of my education.

“Er- can I ask how long? That you’ve been-” his shoulders hunched, and his expression became weary as he avoided looking in my direction.

“A few days before the encounter with the goblins in the park,” I gave him a wry smile. “It would seem I did a poor job at blending in.”

Lucas nodded, his posture relaxing. “I would like to apologize for my past actions, and rudeness. When your identity was first revealed Lord Fergus was telling everyone you were Ellie, and saying a lot of horrible things. I felt-” He hesitated, his gaze meeting mine briefly. “It was so strange, seeing you and trying to picture you as my Ellie, but it is obvious you aren’t her. Ellie was sweet, and kind, and you’re- ah.”

Hearing him say it was obvious I wasn't Ellie felt as though he’d driven a dagger through my chest, succeeding where others had failed. Because despite what he said, I was Ellie. Strip away the mask of court etiquette, and Ellie was who remained.

He stared into my eyes, and I briefly wondered if he could see the hurt I felt within them. “You have shown notable improvement since attending Maitane’s lessons, so I shall grant you forgiveness for the actions of the past.” My voice was cool and composed, showing none of the tumultuous emotion he’d stirred within me with his words.

“Right, er-” Lucas mumbled, his gaze darting to the doors which led out of the castle. “I should go.”

“May the moon guide you on your path, Guardian Lucas.” I knew he wouldn’t be able to sense the sadness hidden within the words I spoke, but Helma did. The band of shadow the Víðarr kept curled around my toe squeezed tight before relaxing in a subtle and unseen show of reassurance.

As I turned away from the sandy haired guardian, I caught sight of Selina watching us from across the hall, her fists clenched at her sides. The hostile glare, and her tense body posture made it clear she either didn’t believe the rumors that I wasn’t Ellie, or she held resentments that were unrelated to the persona she’d known.

We’d never gotten along during the years I spent as Ellie, and much of her anger towards me then had been due to Lucas. The pair of them had grown up together in the enclave, they were close friends, but hadn’t become more than that until recently. It had amused me to watch her jealous antics, I didn’t believe for even a second that she might succeed in taking him from me, yet take him she did.

When Lucas told me he no longer wished to continue our indulgence if I wasn’t willing to commit to being “official” as the humans say, Selina’s spiteful behavior hadn’t lessened as I’d expected it too, instead it seemed to have grown into outright hatred. If anything, shouldn’t I be the one glaring, and acting hostile? She’d gotten Lucas, and made sure I knew it by parading him around in the places I was known to frequent.

“Have you also come to make your apologies,” I called to the blond haired guardian who spun on her heel and stalked away down the hall in the direction of the residential wing.

“My moon, please forgive my impudence in asking, but why allow that human female to act in this manner without punishment?” I looked over my shoulder at Nyx, a faint smile on my lips to show that I took no offense at her question.

“There are a few reasons,” I said, gesturing the direction Selina went. “Selina thrives on attention, and punishing her over minor infractions will give her exactly that. In Manna-heim I cannot simply have her flogged or killed for insulting me or acting with poor etiquette. The laws here are different, and if I wished to punish her, it would require a trial. Selina will no doubt make a spectacle of the entire thing, and if the offense committed is a minor one, it will reflect poorly upon me.”

“She could be discreetly removed,” Nyx suggested, her mauve gaze filling with a dark malice. “I could-”

I raised a hand, causing her to fall silent. “Your words have merit, Stallari, however if she were to simply disappear it would cause further resentment and fear from the residents of the enclave.”

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“Then I shall instruct the Skutilsveinr to pay her no heed, if it is attention she desires, it will not come from the Dökkálfar.” Nyx said her voice filled with reluctance as she stepped back into position behind my right shoulder.

Softening my expression into one of indulgence I inclined my head towards the Stallari. “The Skutilsveinr are free to amuse themselves with her, so long as she remains physically unharmed, mentally sound and no trace is left.”

That brought a pleased smile to the faces of the Skutilsveinr who escorted me, and I knew that Selina would find no peace in the coming days. No further words were exchanged between us, and none were needed. Nyx, and the Skutilsveinr were knowledgeable enough to know what would be permitted within the parameters I provided.

I put aside thoughts of Lucas, and Selina as I continued down the hall towards my rooms where I had left Sorcha, and Kyrian arguing over the preparations for the upcoming feasts with the lords of each kingdom's enclaves.

Entering the receiving room, I found the two exactly where I left them, petulantly arguing over table linens for the feast that would be hosted for the Seelie lords.

“That cloth is too expensive to waste upon a single event!” Sorcha argued, waving a square of pale orange material in the air. “This is a better choice, as it will be easier to launder after, and it can be re-dyed in Vanir colors for that feast the following week.”

“Do you forget that this is a feast hosted by the Smártungl of Svartálfaheimr?” Kyrian countered holding up his own sample. “Arachne silk is the best choice!”

The Pixie stamped her foot in midair as she pointed at the silk cloth Kyrian held. “Tis meant for clothing, not table linens! That is the most ostentatious thing I’ve ever heard.”

“We’re hosting the Seelie.” He retorted, gesturing to the papers strewn over the table. “If it isn’t gaudy, and pretentious it will reflect poorly upon the Smártungl who is also a Seelie princess!”

“And you think Arachne silk is gaudy enough? I think not! If we’re going for gaudy and pretentious we need gold and jewel encrusted tables, no mere table linens will do!” The Pixie declared.

Holding back a shudder at the thought of how much coin would be spent on the feast, I silently walked past the argumentative concubine and Klæða to enter my bedroom.

Dagmar stood in the center of the room, her attention held by Mai who circled her with a critical gaze. The Húsvættir spared me a disparaging look as she took in the state of my clothing, and pointed to the bathroom as she addressed Dagmar, correcting her posture and facial expression.

“Your teeth should remain concealed behind your lips, even when they are parted.” Mai lectured, demonstrating with her own courtly smile. “Your smile should be a subtle curve that is neither excessive, nor lacking, it must portray both elegance and strength. Lift your chin a little more- you are a hefðarkona of the Smártungl, you must act like it.”

When I returned after bathing away the earthy aroma of the Peryton, I found Sorcha and Dagmar waiting for me in the dressing room.

“Wouldn't this one suit her better?” Dagmar pointed to a purple gown on the railings, earning herself a glare from the Pixie who was holding out a two piece outfit consisting of a bejeweled blouse that left my midriff bare, and a full length skirt with floral embroidery. The outfit was decorated with Tanzanites, the material was the same deep blue as the jewels. Both jewel, and color one which represented the Ástugrtungl.

“I will be speaking with the prince consort this nótt, and wish him to be in an accommodating mood.” I told the purple haired Álfr, not mentioning that athair still wasn’t taking my calls after Sorcha’s insinuation that such communications came only at my leisure.

Hopefully when whomever answered the Mímir saw me dressed in the outfit athair personally gifted, he would stop his pouting and agree to speak with me. If not, then I would be forced to take more drastic measures to gain his attention.

Dagmar inclined her head, her gaze shifting to the cosmetics and jewelry box laid out on the table before us. “My moon, might I enquire why you do not wear your antlered headpiece?”

“Faðir wished to re-crown me upon my return home, and thus has not sent it.” I answered as Sorcha helped me dress. “It was from his hand I first received my antlers, and it will be his hand that returns them to me.”

A hesitant expression flitted across her face before she lifted her hands to the antlered headpiece that adorned her head. I watched as she removed her antlers, setting them onto the dressing room table with a look of determination.

“My moon, the antlers I wear were given to me from the Jarl of Markaðshöfn. As I am no longer of his hirð, I would forgo wearing the antlers bestowed by his hand.”

I gazed down at her antlers which were made from polished wood. I had neglected to make note of the material before, and now that I did, my stomach roiled in anger for the girl who stood beside me. Dagmar was the Jarl’s first born, and he bestowed antlers of wood. Not precious metal, stone, or even true Peryton antler, but wood. Only the poorest of commoners wore antlers of wood.

A plan formulated within my mind as I looked upon those wooden antlers, one which would no doubt cause quite the ruckus in court. The antlers I wore as child would not be those faðir set upon my head during the festivities upon my return to court, my new antlers would be those worn by all the Smártungl’s before me.

“If you prove yourself a worthy hefðarkona, I will have the fourth prong removed from the antlers I wore as child, and bestow them upon you.” The honor of wearing my childhood antlers should be given to Helma, as my Víðarr, but I knew it would pain the woman to forsake the antlers she currently wore in favor of those I was expected to bestow. Her antlers were those of her beloved Lys, a maid who once served in my palace and who lost her life during an attempt upon my own.

Dagmar’s silver eyes darted to the Víðarr who stood in the corner of the room, her figure shrouded in shadows. “My moon, I would not dare-”

Picking up a blue cosmetic pencil I began drawing a pair of four pronged antlers between my brows. “Víðarr, the choice is yours.” I said, my gaze focused on my own reflection.

“The hefðarkona wearing your antlers will be more impactful than if I were to do so,” Helma said, her voice giving away none of the emotion I could feel projected through the shadow which encircled my toe. “I shall ensure my kin understand the intent behind it, and take no insult.”

“I would not wish them to think I insult you, or their prominence in accepting the Smártungl’s gift.” Dagmar said softly.

She was right to be weary, as Helma’s maternal hirð held a great deal of power in Svartálfaheimr. If they took insult to Dagmar being granted to honor of my antlers, it would cause many difficulties.

“The matter is settled.” I said, picking up a brush and holding it over my shoulder towards the purpled haired woman, offering her the honor of tending my hair. Maitane had not appeared to braid my hair, so I was left to assume she intended the task to be granted to the hefðarkona.

There was no hesitation from Dagmar as she took the brush and set to work parting my hair into sections. As she wove my hair into a series of loose braids that gathered at the back of my head, I finished drawing the last sections of the antlers which adorned my brow. Lowering the blue pencil and picking up the silver one, I used it to draw a thin line on one of the prongs to represent Kyrian as my concubine. The tip of the pencil hovered over a second prong, and after a momentary pause I lowered it without marking another line.

“Do you think faðir would be angered if I disposed of Acacius?” I asked the occupants of the room, my finger tracing over the cosmetic pencil.

It was Helma who answered. “I dare say he would not be surprised if you choose to discard him, his actions in your absence grant you fair reason to do so.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to wait until your return to decide, my moon.” Sorcha suggested, lifting one of her delicate shoulders in a half shrug. “It is said that you favored him greatly in the past, you may regret discarding your star before reuniting with him.”

Unrestrained laughter bubbled from my lips, and I twisted around to look at the Pixie. “Favored him? I barely tolerated him! Acacius was a punishment from faðir. A pet faðir discarded and forced upon me in retaliation for my encouraging his antics and using him to embarrass fadir during a court function.” I turned back to face the mirror, my thoughts drifting back to the concubine. “Though, I shall do as you say and leave the matter for when I return. It may prove amusing to see how Kyrian deals with Acacius’s antics.”

“My moon,” Dagmar’s eyes met mine in the mirror, her gaze filled with curiosity. “Am I to understand from your words that concubine Acacius is not the bjartr stjarna of your hirð.”

“No, despite what he has been claiming during my absence, he holds no such position among my concubines.” I said, allowing a hint of amusement to color my tone. “While it is yet to be officially announced, it is Röðull Kyrian who is the brightest of my stars.”

“Is he not merely a pet that you are keeping as a political hostage?” Dagmar appeared confused, her gaze darting to the antlers I had drawn.

“For now it is portrayed as such, however among my hirð he is to be treated as my bright star, regardless of how the public views his position.”

Dagmar nodded, taking a step back to indicate she was finished with my hair. I took a moment to admire her work, she was talented, and the hairstyle she chose paired well with the outfit I wore.

“Sorcha, please see to it that athair is pre-warned that I will be calling with a matter of importance. Ensure you allude that I am upset with faðir, and seek to bring him to my side in the matter.” I said, allowing the Pixie to depart ahead of me so she had ample time to contact those who would see that my words reached the royal consorts ears.

Athair loved playing favorites with me to annoy faðir, so I was certain he would answer my call if only to see how I intended to garner his support.

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