Page 3 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen
A slight twitch in his jaw was the only reaction he gave.
She actually wished he would put the helmet back on. He somehow looked more terrifying like this, with his vicious, scarred beauty on display. Here, with his face uncovered, she could tell that he was capable of far more cruelty than if he had simply appeared like a faceless, red-eyed, half-fae half-elf commander.
“Rakel, you may leave,” he said, voice full of authority and velvety smoothness. He didn’t rip his gaze away from Kolfinna’s, even when Rakel bowed and left the room.
They both stared at each other, neither speaking.
Kolfinna had been around powerful people before—Blár, Fenris, and even Hilda—but she couldn’t remember their presence beingthisoverwhelming. Power seeped out of him in a way that made it hard to breathe.
She didn’t know what to say. He was her supposed father, and yet … she didn’t even know what to feel about it all … abouthim. All she could think as she stared into his murderous eyes was that he had almost killed Blár.
“Kolfinna …” He said her name with a slight dialect she didn’t recognize. “You appear to be in good health. Especially without that mark.” He gestured toward her wrist, where the rune mark Sijur had placed on her had been, and then waved to one of the empty chairs at the table. “Take a seat. We have much to discuss.”
“Am I to assume you killed him?” She remained where she stood. She didn’t want to comply and sit anywhere; she didn’t even want to meet his eyes or search his face for all the similarities. Like their noses. Or the shape of their eyes. Or his mouth.
She hated it.
We don’t look like alike. We don’t?—
“I would offer tea or biscuits, but I don’t believe you’d appreciate the hospitality.” He curved his pale hands over the back of one of the many seats arranged around the table. His eyes seemed to darken the more he stared at her, and the corners of his mouth dragged down. She could practically taste the disappointment in the air. The heaviness of it made her want to run, and yet she couldn’t. She was trapped.
Tea and biscuits. It sounded ridiculous.
“You … killed him, right?” She held up her wrist and tried to calm her trembling, but she couldn’t. “The man who marked me. Sijur.”
“Did you … care for him?” He tilted his head to the side, a look of mild curiosity flashing over his face. It was quickly replaced by repulsion. “You, oddly enough, seem tocarefor humans. You evenloveone of them. Have humans treated you well your whole life? From what I’ve gathered from the small number of fae that have been left behind, this society does not favor our kind. So why do you harbor such loyalty to thesepathetic, treasonous creatures? Tell me, so I may understand you.”
Kolfinna’s mouth tasted like ash the longer she stood in the room. She wanted to flee, like she always did whenever she was thrust into an uncomfortable position—and lately, that was pretty muchalways. But there was nowhere to run to. The only window was behind the commander, and there was no way she could circumvent him, jump out the window, and somehow survive. Unlike him, she didn’t have a pair of haunting wings to save her.
The half-elf lifted a white eyebrow and slowly glanced over his shoulder to where she was staring—the window—and then met her gaze again. “You will not survive the fall.”
That snapped her out of it.
“I wasn’t planning on jumping,” she said through clenched teeth. “You haven’t answered any of my questions.”
“Sit.”
“No—”
“You have questions. So do I.” He pointed to the chair closest to her and his voice hardened. “Sit.”
Kolfinna wished she was tough enough to flip the table, scream, or make things all the more difficult for him and whatever he wanted from her, but the selfish desire to learn more won over her uncooperativeness. She needed answers. Her whole life seemed like a lie.
To spite him, she chose to sit on the chair he hadn’t pointed to. If he cared or noticed, he didn’t show it. He peered down at her with unreadable eyes and she found it hard to stare back.
She tried to focus on everything but him. The plain gray walls. The faded purple, red, and cream-colored geometric rug beneath the eight-chaired table. The soft roar of the fire in the hearth. The map spread out in front of her.
But despite her hardest efforts, she couldn’t shake her discomfort. He was staring too much.
“Are you going to say anything?” She said, raising her chin to glare at him, but shrinking away when his eyes narrowed slightly. Instead, she fidgeted with the edge of her blood-stained uniform shirt. “Well? I thought we would have a lot to say to one another, considering …”
Considering he was her father. Considering he needed her to free his queen. Considering that he’d imprisoned her. Considering …everything.
“You may call me Vidar,” the half-elf said, leaning his folded arms over the back of the chair. His wings spread out from behind him. It was terrifying to see him like that—staring down at her with his wings stretching wider—as if he might lunge over the table to attack her.
She swallowed. He needed her, so he wouldn’t hurt her … or would he? The fae were never kind to the humans, from what she had heard historically, and since he was from the time of the wicked Queen Aesileif, she doubted he would be any better.
“Vidar Alfaer,” he continued, never ripping his attention away from her. He pulled back the seat across from her and gracefully sat down, his wings flaring. “I am the commander of this army, and all the armies of Her Majesty. Likely you have not heard of me?—”
