Page 40 of A Darkness So Sweet

“They’re beautiful.”

She caught a glimpse of the carvings as well. There were elves etched into the door. Their beautiful, thin figures were easy to pick out, as they were infinitely more beautiful than any human could be. Their hands were raised and magic cascaded down out of their hands. That magic seemed to spark upon the ground, and then she caught the smallest glimpse of something that appeared to disturb the mud beneath their feet.

The king had carved his doors with the creation of his people. A reminder to all that they were not animals at their core, she supposed. Or perhaps a reminder that all the work they had done was leading them somewhere great.

Ragnar strode beyond the doors and then they were inside the castle. She’d been expecting more natural things inside. Perhaps proof that these people weren’t as advanced as her own. She’d expected a lot of candles, like at home. But the trolls had made deals with the wisps who were everywhere she looked. The tiny balls of light clung in clusters at the ceiling, like chandeliers, illuminating the stunning mirror shined floors of white marble. Furniture was everywhere she looked. Seating areas were filled with trolls, and the seats were all cushioned with beautifully vibrant fabric. Hand-woven rugs, stunning in their quality, were spread out meticulously along the floor to keep the chill at bay.

Maia had to blink a few times, because the trolls here didn’t look like the ones she’d already met. The war band had been clothed mostly in leathers and loincloths. But these people appeared to be wearing the finest clothes she’d ever seen. They were dyed every color she hadn’t thought possible, pressed into perfect lines. All the fabric complimented their shapes, but also made them look less like trolls and more like...

Elves, she realized. They looked like elves. Just with darker skin, different colors, and stripes of tattoos. They were the wilder version of elves.

Rubbing her fists over her eyes, she watched as the trolls all turned their attention to the spectacle of a troll carrying a human through their castle. The plush rugs quieted Ragnar’s movements. He must’ve looked out of place here, as much as she did. He was still bare chested, with all his skin on display for anyone to see.

The people here in the castle looked like nobility. They were prettier than she’d imagined, with those delicate long ears and the dangling piercings that filled their ears with gemstones.

It wasn’t what she had expected from the supposedly animalistic and dangerous creatures who lived underground.

He carried her straight through the main area and all the way to the back, where there was a stunning throne. She was a little caught up in the sight of it, so much so that at first, she didn’t notice the man on the throne itself. It appeared to be entirely made out of crystal. It was fractured with a hundred colors, all intertwined until the light moved through it in a strange way that made the rays warp.

Until she finally focused on the man seated on the throne and every single thought in her head burst like bubbles. The creature on the throne was not at all like the trolls she had seen. His skin was a dark slate gray. Every color all mixed together to create a grayish tone with shadows of nearly pitch black. His hair and eyebrows were completely white, as were his eyes. The long tips of his ears were even more extended than Ragnar’s, but it was the shape of him that startled her most.

This wasn’t a troll close to elven beauty. She was looking at an elf.

Maia had only heard of their beauty. Their faces were so perfect in every way that they were almost eerie to look at. They were tall and lean, just like the man on the throne, though he was laced with muscle. And the air crackled around them with magic that was born straight from the source.

She had no idea where the elves lived now. Some people claimed they had ascended to become gods and that they lived in some mythical city in the clouds. She thought the elves had just found a newer, better place to live and abandoned all those who once worshiped them. But now, she was looking right at what remained of those god-like people whose power had terrified her own.

Ragnar gently set her on her feet and then bowed low. He kept his hand on her back, pressing her into a bow as well, even though that wasn’t the right motion for a lady. Surely he’d rather she curtsey?

But she peeked out from underneath the veil of her hair and noticed that everyone else was also bowing low. The trolls had stood as they’d passed, and every single one of them bowed to the man seated on the throne.

“Ragnar,” the king said, his voice a deep bass that made the very floor shudder underneath her feet. “You have returned with your troll wife.”

“I have,” Ragnar replied, but then he hesitated.

She knew, in that moment, he was going to announce that she wasn’t who she was supposed to be. Right in front of all of these other trolls. If they rebelled against her, if they decided that she should die, then there was nothing her husband could do to stop them.

Her knees started to shake. She was having a hard time staying bent over as she was, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d topple over onto her hands and knees before this king.

She had to trust that Ragnar would take care of her. That trust was hard to build, though.

“I have bound myself to this woman. She is my troll wife, as confirmed by the Blood Witch and the Bone Reader. My destiny stands before you.” Ragnar straightened, but he kept his hand on her back. Maia took the hint to remain with her face turned toward the floor. “But she is not the princess.”

Murmurs rose through the crowd of trolls behind her. Whispers echoed, bouncing from the ceiling and returning to her ears.

“Of course she’s not the princess. Look at her!”

“There doesn’t seem to be a single drop of elven blood inside of her.”

“I could feel it the moment she walked into the room. There is no power in this woman.”

Then there was silence again, other than a strange scraping sound, like claws on stone. Peeking through her hair, she realized the king had stood from his throne. She swallowed hard and tried not to shudder and quake as the sensation of his magic trailed over her. Ragnar’s magic was a cool, icy water that dripped from wherever he touched. But this king’s magic was so much stronger.

His magic felt like ten sets of hands, all gliding over her skin and tugging at her hair. Then she could feel his magic reaching inside of her body and pulling at her power, tugging at the very heart of her, the little gift she had barely even recognized all her life.

Then there was a clawed fingertip at her chin, drawing her head back to look at him. Her neck screamed in pain, but Ragnar’s hand was still firm on her back, so she bent her neck and looked up.

Up close, the king was even more terrifying. He was taller and longer than Ragnar, all that beauty of his face so impossible to look at. But then she realized he hadwings. They were crumpled, useless things, wizened and bent, so they dragged upon the ground as he walked. That was the sound. The sound she’d heard were the tips of them, where there had once been talons, scraping the floor as he approached her.

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