Nadia cradled the warm black mug as if it were her own heart. The heat crept into her fingers and traveled up her arms, transferring the warmth to the center of her drained soul. 

The brownish liquid smelled of roses and earth, and it tasted quite bitter, but she hadn't drunk or eaten in years, and her body had long missed the satisfaction of quenching her thirst. In several long gulps, she emptied her mug. Her heart warmed and her skin prickled with pleasure. Already, she felt her muscles yawn from their thousand-year hibernation.

The maids who attended her were kind, but quiet, seeming afraid to engage in conversation with the elven queen. After centuries of oppressive rule over Arioch, of course there had to be a change in the way humans viewed elves and other magical beings. Nadia should have thought their silence welcoming, but when her own attempts for conversation were ignored, she realized their mute nature was bidden, not a choice, and this unnerved her.

Nadia had already waved off the aproned maids, ensuring them she could enjoy her tea in peace, but her heart sank when the situation became clearer. She worried not for herself, but for what her appearance in the castle could mean for her people, assuming their existence wasn't yet entirely eradicated. 

Why had the princeling released her? Why had he given her a bed to sleep in and maids to attend to her? This didn't seem like a similar situation to King Seamas'—Prince Azriel was still quite young, and his fascination with her didn't seem nearly as obsessive or destructive. For now, he seemed curious.

Yes, curious. That was what Nadia told herself as she wiggled her bare feet under the white silk covers of the large bed. The wrinkles in the fabric reminded her of snow when it blanketed the forest in winter, or of the ripple of clouds on an overcast day. After a while, her feet paused, two peaks in an ocean of white. A shadow passed over the blanket, and then everything was bright, almost blinding.

The sun.

Nadia scrambled to her feet. Her legs were sore from walking the night before, but her determination saw her to the large window. She gasped when she beheld the magnificent castle grounds.

Her room was high up, overlooking crowned towers and gates colored with white marble and gold. Gardens stretched around walls were filled with reddening maple trees and bushes of winking red berries. A fountain bloomed at both corners and each was carved into an animal of the Aldorin forest—dragons, fish, and birds were fashioned with marble.

The golden sun was about halfway to its peak, and when Nadia met its gaze, it awakened the dormant green in her eyes. Her heart jumped to life and her hair prickled on her arms. The warmth, the natural light, everything she thought she'd never see again was here before her once more, gods answering her pleas. Her heart could fail her now, and she would die happy.

"Good morning," a voice chuckled behind her.

Nadia started. Her senses were still adjusting to the bright world above her dungeon cell, and she'd not realized someone had joined her in the room. But as Prince Azriel's was the only voice she'd heard for years, she recognized it quickly.

She hid a blush as she braced herself on the window sill and after a moment turned her head to look at him. She offered him a smile.

He joined her and even managed to keep a respectable distance between them. His hands rested on the ledge of the large window, fingers dressed with sparkling gold and amethyst rings. In the light, she saw that he wasn't all that terrible-looking, for a human.

In fact, he'd grown into a fine young man, with a beard stippling his jaw and chiseled to shape his square face. He had royal cheekbones, not unlike her own, but his face was much meatier. His eyes were dark, almost black, like his hair. Though Nadia was tall for an elf, he was at least two heads taller. She noted that the crown on his head was not the ancient one passed down from king to king, and his clothing was simple, yet elegant: brown leather shoes, a white tunic with golden threadwork needled throughout, and black trousers. He was not yet king, but Nadia wondered if that day was approaching. Arioch's kings didn't seem to live longer than half a century—Nadia couldn't recall a single instance where she met a white-haired royal.

"I hope you find your room agreeable," he said softly, glancing down to meet her gaze.

A rush of heat went to Nadia's cheeks as she returned her attention to the sparkling kingdom. The prince's eye contact was distracting. She nodded once. 

Silence conquered the space between them, and for a moment Nadia felt like she could breathe, to allow herself to adjust to the prince's presence. Then the prince's large hand brushed over hers. She hid her surprise the best she could, and when she looked into Azriel's eyes, she noticed a familiar blend of emotions that corrupted them: worry, fear, desperation.

"Tell me, why have you not had proper bedding and access to sunlight while in my father's dungeons? Have they fed you? You're thinner than the maids. Do elves not die of starvation?" His voice tightened as he spoke, and his fingers greedily wrapped around hers. He glanced at their hands, intertwined together, then locked her in place with his gaze. "You're colder than ice, Nadia. Did the maids not bring you tea?" His words took on an edge, brimming with anger. Thick eyebrows knotted over cold irises.

Nadia slipped her hand away, then looked at the prince once more. He cocked his head at her, worry lining his forehead. 

"Yes, they brought me tea. Thank you."

Azriel nodded. Then, thoughtfully, he turned to the window. "Tell me, did they feed you... down there?"

Nadia considered his question. How could he have not known of her situation? He knew she was down there, but not that she was neglected and left to a life of eternal rot. He came back for her, but couldn't he tell she was malnourished and now craved more drink, the taste of food, the smell and warmth of the sun? Had his human nature not noticed the sunkenness of her cheeks, the hollowness beneath her eyes, the brittleness of her bones? Or had her magic succeeded in preserving her external appearance? She hadn't yet seen her reflection, but she felt void of life. 

"No, they did not," she answered.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and his eyes sparkled with a darkness that chilled Nadia to her bones.

"Damn them for the way they treated you," he growled.

Nadia blinked at him. She didn't know how to respond—shocked, flattered, frightened? So she masked her reaction with as blank an expression as she could manage. Since when did a human pity her like this, to be upset with the other humans who caused her so much suffering?

The prince continued, "Since the day I saw you in the dungeon, I couldn't get you out of my head. You occupied my dreams, my strategy meetings, my conversations. In the most important of moments, I could only think of you. Even as I'm helplessly betrothed, tied to another for a political alliance. You see, that day seven years ago, when I was only just a boy, I became instantly entranced with you. And though I may never see you become my queen, I..."

He shook his head, unable to continue, and he turned away from the window. He walked along the length of the room, stopping to face the large gilded wall. Hands ran through wiry black hair, then scratched the beard starting along his jaw.

Nadia feared his words. He began to sound more and more like Seamas, the king who'd commanded her to take his life, for he thought her to be the only one who could commit the terrible deed. Her mind spiraled at what horrors she might witness if she were to refuse this prince, too. Would he ask the same of her or worse?

"Love," Nadia croaked, and Azriel jerked his head up, "is a very serious thing. Elves can only ever bond once, and they become mated until death. Humans have no such bond, but marry for a  peace which can be broken when the couple separates."

The prince stalked back to her, a heaviness to his steps as he closed the distance. Standing just inches apart, he gazed down hungrily at her.

"We have something much more fleeting, yes," he said with a low grumble. His hand raised carefully, seeking permission to touch her. When she didn't move, he took it to mean consent, and cupped her soft cheek in his hand. "But that is the beauty of our commitment, is it not? To not be magically bound to another, but to choose to remain with them."

Or to leave them, Nadia thought to herself.

She gulped, and the prince's warm hand traveled down her neck. His thumb brushed along her smooth jaw. His eyes wandered, first to her cheek, then to her neck, to the length of her body, and finally returned to settle on her lips.

With the slightest of movements, the prince pulled her closer to him, angled his head downward, and brought his mouth just a breath away from hers. Nadia's eyes squeezed shut and her heart hammered in her chest, drumming suddenly to a familiar rhythm. Not one of excitement, but of surprise, fear. Was he to claim her through a kiss? Was this how humans now expressed their affection? Would she be powerless to resist?

His pine and lavender breath was all she could smell, taste, feel. He didn't move any closer, and their lips never made contact, but their intimate proximity rattled her with a terror she hadn't possessed since she lost King Elias on the battlefield a thousand years before. Memories invaded her mind—of Elias's body being lifted above the battlefield, punctured with dripping Yaratik claws as the life vanished from his eyes. 

She knew when Azriel leaned away, for his scent lingered, but there was no more heat. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, his expression indecipherable.

"You're mated to another," he said coldly.

If this was true, she'd long since forgotten or told herself to shut out the memory. Nadia also bore no ritual mark, which the elven god Aldorin blessed mated pairings with at their bonding. 

"No," she said a little too quickly. The prince raised an eyebrow at her. "I have never had a lover, mate, or husband. I..." She thought of telling him of her royal identity, that she fought against his ancestor many years ago, but a sharpness in her gut warned her to remain silent. She bit her tongue.

The prince smiled, ignoring her pause. He seemed to only hear that she'd not yet settled for any man or beast, and questioned no further about her past.

"I'd very much like to court you, Nadia," the prince said. He remained a few steps away, showing no sign of repeating his previous actions. "I want you to feel comfortable here in Arioch. I want you to get accustomed to life aboveground, to replenish your health and learn about our kingdom." He looked deep into her eyes as he breathed. "But no one must ever discover that you are an elf. Our laws forbid magical creatures aside from the Perri duchy to serve the throne. I want you to be aware of the risk I'm taking with you."

Nadia's heart started up again. So her curses had worked. The rumors were true—none of her people were here. She'd been in the dark for so long, so she hadn't realized it until now, but there was no magic here. She was still empty. Hollow. The warm tea had offered her a phantom feeling of what magic could really do to strengthen her magical center. She could never be filled with human delicacies.

Before she allowed her thoughts to spiral further, her gaze flickered to Azriel's. "Yes, Your Highness. I won't allow such a thing to happen."

His lips curled into a grin. "Then please eat one of these elixirs daily—they will conceal your pointed ears and sharp front teeth. They will make you appear human." As he spoke, he held out a marbled oval disc that was the size of his thumb. When she hesitated, he gingerly grasped her wrist and closed her fingers around the elixir. "Eat this, then meet me in the dining hall for breakfast. I'm loathe to see you in such a skeletal state any longer."

With these last words, he left the room, shutting the doors behind him.

Nadia fell to her knees, drained of energy. Her thoughts swarmed her like insects to rotting flesh, and fresh tears stained her cheeks. She knew not the meaning of her sobbing, for her situation was far from bleak, but she knew she lost a part of herself. Perhaps the prince had stained her goodness with his cruel smile, or maybe he'd convinced her for a moment that his love was pure and true. She wasn't sure she believed his affections for her were honest, but she couldn't refuse his kindness, not after he gave her a chance to see the sun again. 

When the elixir melted on her tongue and the colors of the room melted together until all she could see was black, a cold feeling replaced the warmth in her gut. If she had any drop of magic in her before, it was now completely stamped out.