Page 4 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

“On whose authority—” King Leiknir began.

“I’m glad you asked, Your Highness.” Sijur unfurled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up, as if he had been waiting for this moment. “On the authority of the commander-in-chief of the country, Commander Steffen Bernsten.”

King Leiknir’s hands clenched over the gold armrest of his throne until his fingers were bloodlessly white. “Excuse me?”

“Kolfinna is not within your jurisdiction to command, Your Highness.” Sijur waved a hand to Kolfinna. “Did you not wonder why she wasn’t wearing her uniform the day of the attack? Or why she was absent the week prior?”

Kolfinna flinched again, remembering that time with Hilda in the cabin. After that, she had been at Fenris’s house to recuperate. Kolfinna wasn’t sure what Sijur was getting at, but it was true that she hadn’t been wearing her Royal Guard uniform the day of the attack and that she was absent the week before.

“She is with the military. She joined right around the time of theMåneskinball.” He pulled out another paper. It crinkled as he unfolded it. “She requested a transfer to the military under my branch, andhere”—he pointed to something on the paper and glanced at Fenris, who was watching the whole affair curiously—“we have Captain Asulf’s approval of the request, the commander-in-chief’s signature to approve her instatement intothe military, and my signature of approval for her to join my unit.” He stepped toward the throne and handed the papers to the king, who took them with trembling hands. Sijur stepped back with a sweeping bow. “Therefore, the Royal Guards are unable to question my soldier and her actions are to be assessed by the military. I ask that you let my soldier go.”

The king’s lips pursed together and his cheeks reddened as he stared at the papers. He flipped them over and scanned over the scrawled contents. “Captain Asulf.” The king held up one of the papers. The rage in his tone was barely controlled. “Is this your signature?”

Kolfinna had seen the look of confusion that had momentarily flashed over Fenris’s face when Sijur had mentioned him, but now he wore an expression of clear indifference, as if his forged signature wasn’t being waved in his face. “Yes, it is. Kolfinna requested a transfer and I approved it, just like how the Lieutenant General said.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?” King Leiknir ground out.

Fenris lifted a shoulder. “I apologize, Your Highness. I simply …forgot.”

Nyborg gestured to Kolfinna’s Royal Guard clothes. “Then why is she in uniform? If she’s now a soldier, then why dress like a Royal Guard?”

“I wanted to wear it one last time,” Kolfinna said, trying to fight the smile stretching up on her lips. This was an unexpected turn of events, even though Sijur and her had a deal. But still, she hadn’t thought it would turn out like this. Seeing everyone’s stunned faces wasalmostworth the stress and anxiety that had built up to this moment.

Sijur smiled and smoothed down the front of his gray uniform. “Since this trial isn’t under the jurisdiction of the royal family and the Royal Guards, I will be taking my soldier back toour base, where we will carry out our own investigation. If you have any questions, please feel free to send them to my father, the commander-in-chief.”

No one moved and it seemed like no one breathed either. The king quaked in obvious rage, his face purpling. Sijur held his hand out to Kolfinna, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Come on, Kolfinna, let’s go.”

Kolfinna hesitantly stepped off the dais, her gaze flitting to Nyborg and the other guards, but when they made no move to restrain her, she closed the distance to Sijur. It wasn’t until they began walking out of the throne room that movement and chatter erupted.

But it didn’t matter to her anymore what they said—she was done with the Royal Guards and this blasted royal palace.

2

This would probably bethe last time she would be in Fenris’s office, Kolfinna thought as she shifted on her feet. She stifled a yawn with her hand—now gloveless.

Kolfinna barely slept that night. It was the last night she would be in her home, the last night she would be living in the capital, and the last night of her being a Royal Guard. Actually, the last statement was false. According to Sijur, she had left the Royal Guards three weeks ago. Which was now her truth. A truth that was hard to swallow because despite everything the Royal Guards had done to her—mocking her, bullying her, beating her—she had found friends and a place to be, even if that place was uncomfortable. She had been working toward a dream of living peacefully with everyone. She had been looking forward to spending more time with Eyfura and Nollar. She had wanted to make a place here for herself, and now it seemed like the five months of work she’d put into this position were in vain.

In the end, it didn’t really matter.

“It’s a shame.”

She had been thinking it, but hearing the words out loud almost made her feel like Fenris was inside her head. But he was still sitting behind his desk, his gloved hands folded over a stackof yellowed parchment paper, and his gaze on the gold, lion-carved Royal Guard badge she had placed in front of him.

Kolfinna felt strange to be in his office in regular clothing—a thick wool dress with pockets and a particular heavy fur-lined cloak over her shoulders. Blár’s scent barely lingered in its fibers, but it comforted her nonetheless and, she told herself, it was the only cloak she had that wasn’t the Royal Guards’ cloak—which she had been forced to give up. She would never wear the white gloves, the white pants with silver lines along the hems, the white buttoned shirt with silver buttons, the scarlet cape, or the scarlet cloak. The only thing she was allowed to keep were her steel-toed, black boots.

Fenris sighed and canted his head toward the window of his office, at the sprawling, bustling town down below. “A shame,” he said once more, gaze flicking back to her. “That these people in the capital refuse to see your worth and your loyalty.”

Her throat closed up and she stared down at her glossy boots, at the thick, corded rug, and the polished wooden floor beside it.

A shame indeed. All her hopes had been crushed. All those months of pining after a life in the capital—wasted.

“Captain Asulf—” Kolfinna began.

“Fenris.” He leaned back in his gilded, velvety cushioned seat. “Now that you’re not a guard under me, you can call me Fenris.”

The casualness felt unfamiliar and awkward. “Fenris,” she said, her voice sounding raspy from trying to keep the tears at bay. “Thank you for … for trying.”

Trying to protect her. Trying to stand up for her. Trying … But ultimately failing.

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