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He met my gaze steadily, studying my features long enough for me to wonder if he would answer at all. “I am neither cold nor distant. He made my feet too small, and I wouldn’t stand that way.”
I looked down at his feet, glanced over at the statue’s, and laughed. “He did.” Then, realizing what I had done, I clapped my hand over my mouth. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. That was rude.”
“Don’t apologize.” He regarded me with amusement lightening his eyes to silver, but, strangely, he didn’t smile. “It is funny. You are the first to react honestly to it since its installment forty years ago.”
I frowned up at him. “How old are you?”
He laughed then. A soft chuckle that was so fleeting I wondered if I had heard it at all. “We haven’t even exchanged names yet. Discussing ages before names seems a bit forward, don’t you think?”
Emboldened by his lack of offense at my bluntness, I shrugged. “We have discussed far more unmannerly topics already. My height, your feet, and my rudeness, a discussion of ages would hardly be amiss. Besides, I have already told you mine.”
“My name is Emrys Elian Iston.”
“That is quite a mouthful,” I observed, feeling strangely bold.
“I have three additional names, but I keep them a secret from everyone.”
“Why?”
“To keep the very situation we are in now from becoming worse.”
Then it dawned on me. “You are the elf king!” Horror stole my breath. Sitting down on the edge of the pedestal, I attempted to breathe normally in order to calm the erratic flutter of my heart. Not only had I been bold and rude, but it was to the elf king. Oh! My brother was going to lose his mind and possibly his throne.
“I am. You are just realizing it?”
I nodded.
His hand settled on my back between my shoulder blades. Radiating warmth and a strange tingle, it made my heart thunder all the harder. Specks danced along the edges of my vision as I prayed I wouldn’t pass out. Fainting came frequently enough that I had become somewhat accustomed to it. However, dropping senseless at the feet of the elf king I had just insulted by not recognizing him would be a new low, even for me.
“Your heart isn’t beating normally for a human,” he observed.
My chest hurt. My vision was darkening. “I know,” I gasped. “It happens.”
The tingling coming from his hand intensified. Then, almost as though something was forcing it to behave, my heart settled into a regular rhythm. Then it slowed.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.
“Does this happen often?”
I lifted my head, preparing to reassure him it wasn’t anything to bother about. I had dealt with these episodes my whole life. But when I met his concerned gaze, I hesitated. “At least once a week, of late. There is nothing our healers can do. Usually, I pass out. When I come to, I feel better by the next day.”
He nodded gravely. “I will summon an elven healer then.” The king rose to his feet.
“No, please!” I followed him, stumbling in my haste to stop him. To my utter humiliation, he caught me by my upper arms before I could fall. “I can’t.”
“Why?” His features tightened.
“My brother has forbidden me from seeking outside help. You shouldn’t even know. He doesn’t want anyone to suspect I might not be completely healthy.” I closed my eyes against the shame. “He is hoping I will marry and produce his heir.”
The king blinked down at me. His hands tightened slightly where he continued to grasp my upper arms, although I could easily stand on my own now. As though realizing the contact, he released me and took a step back. Then, crossing his arms over his chest, he demanded, “Why does he hope you will produce the heir and not himself?”
Steadying myself with a deep, slow breath, I explained. “My brother is fifteen years my senior. A confirmed bachelor, he has no desire to marry, yet he needs an heir. There is no next in line to the throne. So, he has set his heart on marrying me off to an eligible man capable of raising the next king of Solderland.”
“And you are amenable to this?” He sounded displeased.
“He has promised me my choice of a husband.”
