The Dark Pretender Read online

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. Thank you for respecting the rights of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Nikki Jefford

  Cover design by Najla Qamber

  All rights reserved.

  For anyone who ever lost themselves along the way.

  May you stay strong and find your way back to you.

  PROLOGUE

  Alok

  A kingdom of my own.

  For a fraction of a moment, a glorified future was within my grasp. I’d held a jeweled crown of Dahlquist in my hands. I was about to take control of the castle.

  Just as quickly, I lost it all.

  But the worst thing was losing her.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alok

  Ice crystallized each windowpane in Hailshadow Manor’s chilly front parlor. The wind outside blew falling snow into swirls of white curling ribbon that spooled into the snowdrifts blocking the main road.

  Oreal sat straight-backed on a stiff navy sofa with her sister-in-law, Lady Yasmine, drinking beetberry wine from chilled glasses. Both women were tall and thin with sharp features like icicles. Oreal, whom I couldn’t bring myself to call Mother, was six foot three, like me, with hair black as night. While the women gulped their wine, my twin sister and I huddled in front of the hearth, taking in what pockets of warmth the dying embers offered.

  Lady Yasmine tipped her glass back, narrowing her eyes at us over the rim. “Look at them shivering like rabbits.” She sneered.

  Oreal’s upper lip curled, her face as pale and cold as the snow outside. “They have their father’s blood.”

  “A grave disappointment to you, my dear. Such a shame you got stuck with two Elmray spawn.”

  Oreal nodded. “Utterly useless, both of them.”

  The harpies knocked back more beetberry wine. It was a specialty in Frostweather—bitter and cold like everything else in this Sky-forsaken kingdom.

  “My brother was kind to take them in. I would not have allowed Dahlquist dirt into my home.”

  Rage burned up my spine. Suddenly, I was no longer chilled. Anger was a constant companion at Hailshadow, always simmering beneath the surface of my mind, ready to flare up and burst out of me like the geysers in Swampia.

  My sister stepped closer to me. Whereas Oreal was all sharp edges and reedy hair, Reyna was soft curves and silken black locks. The press of her shoulder begged me not to act out. We had nowhere else to go. No one to take us in. Reyna had lived at Hailshadow all her life. She’d hardened herself to Oreal and our blackguard of a stepfather, Bhevac. Schooled herself to appear obedient. If Reyna wasn’t leaning against me, I’d storm over to Lady Yasmine, grab the glass from her bony fingers, and smash it against the wall.

  Frigid bitch. Even exiled, I was still a prince of Dahlquist.

  Lady Yasmine made a slurping sound as she finished off her wine before snapping at the nearest attendant to refill her glass. An unsmiling male dressed in black left his post beside the doorway to pour her a full glass.

  “Top off Lady Oreal while you’re at it,” she instructed. “Where are you scampering off to?” she snapped when I started toward the door. “Your mother has not given you permission to leave.”

  More likely they’d have nothing left to entertain them if I wasn’t around to insult. “Very well, since you find my presence so agreeable, I shall grace you with my continued company,” I said mockingly.

  “Don’t get smart with me, boy.” Lady Yasmine narrowed her eyes.

  “Go then,” Oreal said, waving me off. “I already have to see you more than I care to.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. Head lifted, I swept out as though I were lord of the manor.

  Once I reached my chamber, I picked up a carved chair with clawed feet and launched it at the wall with enough force for it to crack. I snatched it back up and smashed it again and again until it resembled kindling more than furniture. Looking down at the splintered wood felt like a preview of my life. How many more insults could I take before I broke apart? The only thing that kept me sane was sneaking away to the elven realm with my sister whenever Oreal and Bhevac left Hailshadow on holiday. As the children of a deceased king, my sister and I had the power to create portals.

  In the elven realm, we were treated with reverence. We were Fae royalty, welcomed by all the high elves to their house parties and fetes. An open invitation issued for whenever we found time to drag ourselves away from our “charmed” life in Faerie.

  It didn’t matter that we brought little coin. The high elves were happy to feed and entertain us. Having a Fae prince and princess in attendance was the real prize.

  I flexed my fingers, wanting nothing more than to leave this wasteland behind once and for all.

  Oreal had issued a severe warning that if she ever caught us portaling out of Frostweather, we shouldn’t bother returning. As if I wanted to return to this frozen cesspit. But Reyna had pointed out on numerous occasions that our status in the elven realm would crumble apart faster than a dry snowball if we were known as refugees turned out by our own mother. It was one thing to spend a weekend, or even a week, at a house party; it was quite another to beg asylum. We were both too proud for that. And forget travel in Faerie. Oreal was fond of reminding me that King Liri had issued orders to kill me on sight with a hefty reward awaiting any who delivered him my head.

  I walked up to my vanity, gripping the edge of the dark table. My black hair hung over my forehead, prickling my eyes. It looked a mess—like me. Lulu would have offered to trim it. She’d ask if she could add highlights.

  I didn’t want to think of my adoptive mother and the love she’d given me. I hated how I’d left her at Dahlquist Castle without a goodbye. I’d betrayed the one female who’d loved me unconditionally. I blamed Oreal for abandoning me at the Fable Festival in Dahlquist when I was seven with orders to infiltrate the castle, free my uncle Malon from the dungeons, and steal back my crown. I blamed Uncle Malon for turning out to be a wretch, just like my mother. I blamed Lark Elmray for messing up my plans. But mostly, I blamed myself for going along with any of it in the first place. I’d had a happy home. An adoptive mother who loved me. An elf girlfriend who had made me happier than I’d ever dreamed. I’d been prepared to give up all my mother’s plans for Fraya Keasandoral—until Lark humiliated me in front of her. He’d forced my hand. I couldn’t let her think I was some low-life servant. She deserved better. She deserved a prince, just like her mother’s first mate, Cirrus Elmray. Granted, it was all a bit messed up, but when it came to Fraya, my feelings had been as strong and sound as pure gold.

  I thought back to the first time I met Fraya.

  I was twelve years old, my lower lip trembling as Lark made fun of the purple highlights Lulu had applied to the top of my head.

  “I should start calling you grape head or eggplant.” Lark had laughed. When I squinted at him in confusion, he sighed and informed me that an eggplant was a type of vegetable in the mortal realm. “Not that you’d know,” he said in a haughty tone.

  He was always flaunting his world travels, especially when his cousin Fraya was visiting. Such a prick. He wouldn’t have been so smug if he’d known we were family, but that was a secret I was sworn to keep until the timing was right. I couldn’t wait to put the blond jerk face back in his place.

  Instead, I stormed out before I lost my cool and spoiled everything.

  Fraya found me in the nursery on the window seat, arms wrapped around my knees. On the grounds below, R
eed and Ronin, Lark’s six-year-old twin brothers (my first cousins!), chased one another while their nannies watched.

  On noticing Fraya’s arrival, I turned my attention back to the window. She joined me on the ledge, brushing right up against my back. I kept still, hardly breathing. Unlike Lark, she never put on airs. She was dressed in cobalt leggings, a cream blouse, a black leather waist cincher, and knee-high boots. Smooth, sunny blonde hair reached practically to Fraya’s waist. I always felt tongue-tied around the beautiful elf.

  “Lark’s just jealous because you look cool and you were getting all the attention.” She spoke with sweet confidence. “I love how it looks. It’s stylish and bold. Not everyone is brave enough to pull it off.”

  She shocked me by running her fingers through my hair. My scalp buzzed beneath her touch. Tingles traveled down my neck. I wanted to lean in to her, but I was afraid she’d stop if I made the slightest movement. On the next stroke, she scraped her nails gently along my scalp. It felt like she was pulling me apart one thread at a time, exposing feelings and sensations I couldn’t keep up with—not when she continued touching me so brazenly.

  “I bet blue highlights would look striking with your black hair,” Fraya said as she pulled her hands away and folded them in her lap.

  Afraid my voice would sound raspy, I gave a nod. Blood pounded in my ears. My heartbeat thumped in warning against my ribs. What was this feeling? It was like a stomachache and celebration all wrapped together in one jumbled mess.

  After that, I asked Lulu for blue highlights. Fraya didn’t see them right away. When she next visited Dahlquist Castle, she was fourteen and I was thirteen. I was ready that time. I’d asked Manga, the flirty eldest daughter of the head cook, for instructions on kissing. She’d agreed, saying we both needed the practice—me more than her. She had her sights set on one of the younger royal guards. We were both determined to make ourselves irresistible.

  The next time Fraya touched my hair, I kissed her. And in that moment, my heart claimed hers. Naively, I’d believed we were destined for one another. Fated.

  Now, I was the last male Fraya would ever choose.

  My focus returned to the present. Coal-black eyes glowered back at me in the mirror. There wasn’t a trace of color in my midnight locks. My lips no longer knew how to smile. My heart no longer had the capacity to love.

  But still, that dark Elmray obsession, embedded deep in my DNA, vowed to make Fraya mine.

  I hadn’t moved on, even though she had, years ago. I’d never move on. Never give up. Never get over her.

  And if I ever had even the smallest chance with her again, I wouldn’t relent until our heartlines were sliced open, our blood was mixed, and we were bound together as forever mates.

  I caught my reflection in the mirror—my head shaking at my insanity.

  I had a better chance of storming Dahlquist Castle and stealing the crown off King Liri’s head than I did of winning over Fraya Keasandoral. I’d blown my chances at the crown and with her. And still, I couldn’t let go.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fraya

  I’m pregnant.

  I’d watched the healer perform the test—saw her mix my urine into a solution that turned irrevocably blue.

  I should have felt excited. Joyful. Upset. Scared. Anything. But I was no longer me. Just an empty husk going through the motions.

  Once upon a time, I would have shared the news with my mother, but I could already see the look on her face. The disappointment. The worry. Instead, I planned to tell the baby’s father first. That’s how it ought to be, in any case. It was one of the reasons I agreed to marry him. But something had given me pause in sharing, knowing that once I spoke the words, there was no going back. Helio was crazy about me. If he knew I was carrying his child, there would be no walking away. Not that I had anywhere to walk to. I didn’t feel like there was anything I truly wanted anymore.

  Inside my room in Pinemist, I packed a trunk for Goldendale while my parents stuffed clothing into suitcases.

  Mom walked in and frowned at the gowns I’d laid out on my bed. It wasn’t my usual fashion, but I wanted to make a good first impression when I met my future in-laws, the esteemed Moongolds, high elves of Goldendale.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come watch the solar eclipse with us in the mortal realm?” Mom asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

  Aunt Mel had organized this trip with my parents over a year ago. They were all attending a week-long festival.

  Mom already had on human clothes: bleached jeans, a yellow tank top, and sandals. Her thick blonde hair had been gathered into a large golden barrette and secured at the nape of her neck. All my life, I’d seen Father look at Mom like she was some kind of sun goddess. I’d felt so lucky to have parents like them, until now. Now it hurt knowing I’d never experience that kind of pure and blinding love.

  “Helio’s been planning this house party for weeks,” I reminded Mom.

  That information did nothing to ease the wrinkles in her forehead.

  “This all seems so quick.” I swear I’d heard this from her a hundred times before. “I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for.”

  “I’m more than ready.” I folded my arms. I was twenty-three, old enough to have my own life and family. I didn’t want to remain under my parents’ roof, watching the sad glances they cast my way forever. Their careful words and kind gestures were killing me. At least with Helio, I was able to smile a little and forget my tragic past for hours at a time.

  Part of me looked forward to having a child to focus on. What else was I supposed to do with my broken life? Mine was over. I might as well nurture someone else. The thought of ever picking up a bow and arrow again made me sick to my stomach. My glory days were over. No more tournaments. No more floral championship crowns. I’d left that life for good.

  “I just want you to be happy,” Mom said softly.

  My spine stiffened. There was no real happiness to be had. Not after Conall’s death.

  “Helio worships the ground I walk on,” I reminded her.

  Everyone in the archery circuit cooed over our romantic tale—how Helio Moongold had taken one look at me during a tournament in Goldendale and been “struck by Cupid’s arrow.” He’d become my biggest fan, showing up to cheer me on at tournaments all around the elven realms, sending great big blossoming bouquets to the podium each time I won. The fact that I was hopelessly in love with Conall had never once deterred him.

  After Conall’s death, Helio had respected my grieving period. I’d been the one to come on to him. Well, I’d been a bit tipsy at the time, but still. Once I crossed that line, Helio increased his attentions. It had been serenades, poems, delicacies, and gifts. None of that stuff mattered to me, though. Helio had proven himself to be a loyal friend, before and after the tragedy. Most elves wanted to avoid me afterward, treating my depression like an infection they might catch. Not Helio. He didn’t care if I was standing on top of the world as archery champion or crawling around in a pit of despair. His devotion never flagged. His energy helped drag me out of my doldrums.

  Still, I would have waited longer to become engaged if not for the pregnancy. I’d taken a tincture after meeting up with him at an inn. But it had taken a little too long for me to procure one. My cycle was now six weeks late.

  It didn’t matter. I’d marry Helio Moongold. We’d start a family. And that was that. Mom and Dad could stop worrying about me all the time, and I could stop feeling guilty for causing them pain with my gloomy presence. They’d already turned down too many trips, not wanting to leave me alone. The only reason they were going now was because I would be away in Goldendale.

  Mom continued to frown as I folded my gowns and packed them inside the trunk. “Peridot offered to accompany you.”

  I groaned. Peridot helped look after my boy cousins when they were younger, and now my youngest cousin, Melody, who was seven.

  “I don’t need a nanny.”

 
“She’d act as your companion.” Mom huffed and rolled her eyes. At least it loosened her frown.

  It was my turn to scoff. “I don’t need a chaperone, either. And shouldn’t she be watching Melody?”

  “Kaylin is more than enough,” Mom answered.

  It was true. My twin cousins, Reed and Ronin, had kept their Fae nannies busy. Sweet little Melody, on the other hand, treated her babysitters like close friends rather than caretakers.

  “Mom, I’ll be fine. Helio’s parents will be there. You have to stop worrying.”

  “A mother never stops worrying.”

  I hid my wince as her words struck home. What kind of mother would I be? Protective. I knew that much. My life and my mistakes were mine. I wouldn’t let them affect the love and care I gave my child.

  I grabbed another short dress from my armoire. The sun was always shining in Goldendale. It was time I stepped away from the shadows of my past and took my place beside Helio.

  Amberhill Manor was a gorgeous country estate lined with windows in light stone trim, terra-cotta brickwork, balustrades, pillars, and high chimneys. The parkland surrounding the estate looked like something out of a fairy tale with symmetrical gardens, charming benches, stone water pools, statues, and trellises teeming with climbing hydrangea, blue moon wisteria, and morning glory with their heart-shaped leaves.

  Tourists called the region “sunshine for the soul,” as Goldendale boasted blue skies year-round.

  I stared out the carriage window at an enchanting forest in the distance. A sudden longing rose up in me to gallop across the field, touch one of the trees, and gallop back. Helio had written to me of organizing a hunt. I wasn’t interested in chasing down a fox so much as going out for a ride.

  Servants in cream linen pants and tunics stood waiting on the front steps of Amberhill. As soon as the carriage stopped, one of the younger males hurried forward and opened my door.