Kaelith stared at him.
Then at Irielle.
Then back at him.
For one absurd second, she genuinely wondered if maybe the entire elf bloodline had eaten the same cursed herb and lost all contact with reason.
“You’re what?” she asked.
The elf king did not so much as blink.
“I am letting my daughter live with you.”
Kaelith let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“That is not a sentence a sane man says over lunch.”
Across the table, Elysia went very still.
Malvoria, on the other hand, looked almost entertained, which meant she had already decided this was about to become someone else’s problem in a way she personally found enriching.
Kaelith pointed at herself.
“No.
Absolutely not.
I just got here.
I am still adjusting to the fact that I apparently have a wife.
I do not need the wife included as part of the luggage.”
The king folded his hands together with infuriating grace.
“This is not a matter of convenience.”
“It is extremely a matter of convenience,” Kaelith shot back.
“Mine.”
Irielle had not moved since her father spoke, but Kaelith noticed the stiffness in her shoulders.
Not surprise exactly.
More like recognition.
The sort that said she had not known the exact words, but she had known something like this was coming.
That irritated Kaelith too.
Everyone in this damn palace seemed to know things before she did.
Malvoria finally set down her glass.
“You intend to send your daughter to the Demon Realm, permanently?”
The king’s expression remained composed.
“For the foreseeable future.”
Kaelith barked a laugh.
“You say that like she’s a decorative vase.”
Irielle’s green eyes flicked to her then, unreadable and quick.
The king continued as if nobody had interrupted him.
“The marriage is legal.
If it is to be respected, then practical arrangements must follow.”
“Respectfully,” Kaelith said, and the word came out dripping with disrespect, “I don’t give a shit about practical arrangements.”
Elysia murmured, “Kaelith.”
“No, because what the fuck is this?” Kaelith said, turning slightly toward her mother before swinging back to the king.
“You trap me into a marriage and now you want to send your daughter to live in my home like this is a charming cross-kingdom exchange program?”
The king’s gaze sharpened.
“Mind your tone.”
Kaelith smiled without warmth.
“Mind your daughter.”
That landed.
The room chilled.
Elysia inhaled softly, the way she did when she was trying very hard not to let a diplomatic disaster become an international one.
Malvoria’s mouth curved by the slightest degree, because apparently this was a lovely way to spend an afternoon.
The king looked at Kaelith with the frosty dislike of a man forced to acknowledge another predator at the table.
“If you are old enough to marry, then you are old enough to deal with the obligations that follow.”
“I was drunk enough to marry,” Kaelith corrected.
“That is a completely different qualification.”
Beside him, Irielle’s face did not change, but her fingers tightened once near her napkin.
Kaelith noticed that too, which annoyed her.
She should not be noticing anything about this woman except the fact that she was the reason Kaelith’s life had turned into a legal farce.
Malvoria leaned back in her chair and looked at the king with smooth demonic calm.
“You are eager to send her away.”
The king’s jaw tightened by a fraction.
“I am honoring the agreement.”
“No,” Kaelith said before anyone else could answer.
“You’re getting rid of her.”
That made Irielle look at her again.
Properly, this time.
The king’s voice cooled even further. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“Be careful, Kaelith.”
Kaelith laughed under her breath.
“See, that’s the thing.
Everybody here keeps telling me to be careful, and somehow I’m still the only one who sounds honest.”
Elysia placed her hand gently over Kaelith’s wrist again, but Kaelith was too angry now to settle.
She pulled her hand free and stood up from the table, unable to remain seated while everyone discussed her future like she was not the one trapped inside it.
“I am not taking a stranger home with me,” she said.
Irielle’s chin lifted.
“I am not eager to go.”
That stopped Kaelith for half a breath.
Not because of the words, but because of how flatly they were spoken.
No self-pity.
No dramatics.
Just the cold clean statement of a woman who had long ago learned that wanting had nothing to do with what happened next.
Kaelith hated that sentence for reasons she did not have time to unpack.
“Good,” she said, turning toward her.
“Then for once we agree on something.”
The king rose then too, and suddenly the entire table felt smaller.
More brittle.
He looked down at Kaelith with all the collected arrogance of the elven crown, and Kaelith, who had been raised by a demon queen and a woman who could burn kingdoms with love in her eyes, was not especially impressed.
“This is not a matter for childish resistance,” he said.
Kaelith stared at him.
“Childish resistance?
You sold your daughter into a marriage plot and you’re calling me childish?”
Elysia closed her eyes for one second.
Malvoria, traitor to maternal support, looked like she might actually enjoy this.
The king’s voice lowered.
“Watch yourself.”
“No,” Kaelith said.
“I am done watching myself.
You want honesty?
Here it is.
I didn’t ask for this marriage.
Your daughter didn’t ask for it either.
So don’t stand there and dress this up as dignity when what you’re really doing is pushing her out of your kingdom and into my lap because it suits you.”
The silence after that was vicious.
Even the servants had gone completely still, which was smart of them.
Irielle had not moved.
But Kaelith saw the smallest shift in her expression, something tight and sharp and gone again too fast to name.
It felt, absurdly, like confirmation.
The king’s mouth flattened.
“This arrangement is appropriate.”
“For who?” Kaelith demanded.
“You?”
He did not answer that.
And there it was.
Malvoria’s gaze, golden and terrible, moved lazily between them.
“Perhaps there is another option.”
The king looked at her.
“Speak.”
Malvoria folded her hands in her lap.
“A trial period.”
Kaelith turned her head so fast she nearly hurt herself.
“Mother.”
Malvoria ignored her.
“Six months.
Let them live together.
Let them see whether this marriage can function as more than a legal inconvenience.”
Elysia, bless her for being the only person here whose heart still beat in a useful rhythm, looked startled.
“Malvoria.”
“What?” Malvoria said smoothly.
“It is practical.
They are already married.”
Kaelith wanted to scream.
The king considered it.
That was worse.
No offense.
Just calculation.
Which meant her mother, demon that she was, had just said something strategically viable.
Kaelith turned to Elysia in betrayal.
“Do not let her do this.”
Elysia looked torn, which in itself was terrifying.
“It may buy time.”
“I do not want time.
I want freedom.”
Irielle, still seated, said softly, “Those are not always the same thing.”
Kaelith shot her a look.
“Do not get philosophical with me in the middle of my crisis.”
Something very faint passed through Irielle’s eyes.
Not a smile.
The memory of one, maybe.
The king finally spoke.
“Very well.”
Kaelith felt all the blood leave her body.
He looked at her, then at Irielle, his face as cold and formal as carved stone.
“Stay with her for six months.
If, at the end of that time, you both want a divorce, then I will agree, and you can divorce.”
The words settled over the room like a sentence.
Six months.
Not forever.
Not immediately.
Six months.
Kaelith stood absolutely still, staring at him while her mind reeled through horror, rage, disbelief, and the sudden smallest, strangest thread of possibility.
Six months.
She could survive six months.
Probably.
She had survived university.
She had survived family banquets, drunken scandals, and professors who smelled like moldy despair.
She could survive one tiny cold elf princess for half a year.
And more importantly, there it was.
A way out.
Not elegant.
Not fair.
Not remotely sane.
But a way out.
She slowly turned her head and looked at Irielle.
Irielle was looking at the table, face unreadable again, but Kaelith noticed the tension still locked in her posture.
She did not look pleased.
She did not look relieved.
She looked like a woman who had just been told where she would be caged next.
Kaelith’s anger shifted shape.
Not smaller.
Just sharper.
Fine.
Six months.
If the condition was that they both wanted the divorce, then all Kaelith had to do was make sure Irielle wanted it just as badly as she did.
That was easy, wasn’t it?
She was annoying.
Loud.
infuriating.
Entirely too much.
Irielle clearly already thought she was a drunken catastrophe with legs.
Kaelith could work with that.
She could be unbearable if necessary.
She could turn that beautiful frozen life upside down until the woman begged to be rid of her.
Really, it was almost generous.
Kaelith sat down slowly, pulse still pounding, and reached for her abandoned glass of water with the grim calm of a woman accepting war.
In her head, she thought, I just need to make her want to divorce.
It can’t be that bad.