I tuck a strand of white-blonde hair behind my ear. It was an enormous relief when I woke up this morning to find it back to normal. For the past couple of days it had remained resolutely black, no matter how many times I washed it. I was beginning to fear that the change was permanent.

I've been closeted at home, which has been a mixed blessing because I've not had to deal with the elven court, but it's also kept me away from Aren. I didn't dare face him looking like a dark elf. I miss him and feel the ache of separation.

I bite the end of my pencil and scrunch my nose at the sketch before me. I'm not very good and just can't get the perspective right. Father is working quietly beside me on a pencil drawing of a horse's head, which is so lifelike I can almost imagine that it's looking at me. I certainly haven't inherited his artistic flare.

It makes me reminisce about Kate; she would doodle on napkins and on the back of envelopes capturing ideas for her paintings. I miss her and Tabbi too. The closest thing I've got to a girlfriend here is Darish.

The bell echoes through the hallway and sends my heart stuttering. Yesterday, Nero tried to call upon me. Thankfully father had sent him away saying that I was unwell and not up to visitors.

Darish enters the room. "Your Highness, the queen has sent a messenger to invite you and Princess Elissa to join her and the Lords of Vega riding."

Father gives me a questioning look, evidently leaving the decision to me. Having been cooped up indoors I'm starting to go a bit stir-crazy and could really do with getting out, so nod eagerly.

"Tell the messenger we will gladly ride," Aldebaran instructs.

I race upstairs and change. There is one thing about living at Alfheimr, the clothes are exquisite. They are so beautifully tailored and made with such gorgeous material that I can't help but love my new wardrobe.

My riding outfit is like a cross between a dress and a cloak with a split up the front to mid-thigh to allow easy mounting of a horse. I stroke the green material, which is as soft as cashmere and decorated with elven patterns embroidered in gold. I've paired it with knee-high black riding boots.

Outside, the sun is trying vainly to penetrate the thick cloud and the air has a sharp bite to it. Celestia presents a visage of an ice sculpture, pale skin and hair, clothed in a white fur cloak and mounted on a pure white mare. I can see why they refer to her as the White Queen.

Deneb and Altair are both riding chestnut brown stallions with pale manes. Two more pure white horses are being held by grooms.

As I approach my mount, he stamps at the frosted ground and his breath comes out in a cloud of steam. I can tell that he is a spirited creature, yet as I hold his gaze, it doesn't take long for him to accept me as his mistress.

I nimbly spring into the saddle and as a group we set off at a sedate walking pace. Soon, Altair urges his horse forward and I give chase. The feeling of speed is exhilarating and grants me a brief sense of freedom. The sun wins its battle over the cloud, melting it away and shining down upon us.

Grinning, I glance over at the others who are maintaining a gentler pace. Deneb's eyes meet mine and I resist the urge to shudder, for there is something vaguely unsettling about him. He is so very different from his son Altair, who is charming company and proves a welcome distraction from my worries.

However, I'm not so naive as to not notice my grandmother's little smile and wonder whether some machinations are afoot. I'm going to have to tread carefully.

......

My respite is short lived, for barely has Altair helped me down after our ride, than a black liveried servant informs me that the king urgently requires my presence. I look appealingly to my father and Aldebaran nods, wordlessly agreeing to accompany me.

When we get to the king's informal reception chamber, Morpheus is fully reclined on a large day bed, propped on a bank of plush black cushions. He has the appearance of the King of Sin.

Several scantily dressed females are attending upon him, including one kneeling submissively on the floor beside him. The female peels the dark skin from a fruit and offers it to the king. He bites into the tender flesh.

Standing there waiting for him to notice us, I find myself growing rather impatient and fight the urge to tap my foot. I could have had a shower rather than rushing here.

Licking lips moist with juice, Morpheus looks up at me through his lashes, taking his time to cast his eyes over my riding attire. "Did you enjoy your ride? The flush upon your cheek suits you."

Refusing to rise to the bait, I curtsy and try to keep sarcasm from my tone. "My king. You have an urgent matter to discuss?"

"Tell me, are you well versed with a whip?"

"I have had no need, for my mounts always do as I command." The words rush out of my mouth before I can think.

Amusement sparkles in his oft-stormy eyes. "Indeed. I can imagine."

Aldebaran coughs; attracting the king's attention and in the politest way urging him to get on with it.

"Where are my manners? Please sit." The king waves a hand and two servant girls rush forward; one carrying a cup of tea for Aldebaran and the other a cup of coffee for me.

Once we are settled, Morpheus addresses Aldebaran, "Lord Nero is very taken with your daughter. He has petitioned me to court her."

"Do you not think that a little premature?" Aldebaran interjects, raising an eyebrow.

"She holds such promise and Nero covets power," Morpheus responds, discussing me as if I wasn't sat just across from him. My magic stirs within like a creature with dark velvety wings.

"I do not covet him." My voice is brittle as I lose the battle to subdue my irritation.

That silver gaze swings to me. "I have seen the vision you shared with Nero. One could infer that you will become lovers."

"I beg to disagree," I respond sharply. Again I have a bit of trouble with my filter, but I refuse to have anything to do with Nero.

Morpheus clicks his fingers and everyone in the room freezes, including my father with a tea cup hovering at his lips. Then one moment the king is reclined and the very next he is standing, towering over me.

He is beautiful yet utterly terrifying and I am so out of my depth that it is not funny. Somehow I muster the courage to rise to my feet, plastering my hands to my sides to hide their trembling.

"I am sorry if you feel it disrespectful, but I cannot agree to a future with him." I can't even bring myself to say Nero's name.

"So defiant today." While his voice seems to hold an edge of amusement, his stance promises danger.

He places his hands around my throat with a grip that is firm yet not crushing. His mercurial eyes are completely unreadable and I have no idea if he means to hurt me or is merely trying to psyche me out. Stilling my frantically beating heart, I stare back refusing to be cowed.

My magic slinks back and coils up in slumber. When Nero threatened me, it rose up to protect me. So either it is impotent against the king or I'm not at real risk.

A hint of a smile plays around his lips. Slowly, almost like a caress, he slides his hands down my neck and rests them on my shoulders. Bending his head to my ear, he whispers huskily, "My rose, you should know that I would normally punish disobedience."

A shiver runs through me. I really don't want to know what he gets up to.

Pulling back, he clicks his fingers and the other inhabitants of the room reanimate. "Do not fear. If you do not wish to entertain Lord Nero's advances, then I will protect you."

Yeah, but who will protect me from you?

Morpheus smirks, almost as if he can read my thoughts. I wouldn't put it past him.

"I shall have to put my mind to finding a more suitable match for you," he offers magnanimously, though the thought gives me little comfort.

It is a relief when he directs his attention to my father and asks, "Pray tell me, who is Elissa's mother?"

I hold my breath awaiting the answer.

Aldebaran visibly flinches. "I do not know."

"Ah yes, I recall hearing that you do not look upon the faces of your lovers. It gives me hope for you." Morpheus puts an arm around Aldebaran and walks him to the door. "I am curious. Do you make them wear a mask?"

I am caught between being mortified for my poor father and wanting to giggle. The king goes on to make all sorts of helpful suggestions on things father might wish to try. Its all far too kinky for my innocent ears, so I hang back.

This place is a minefield and I grumble under my breath, "I need a blooming manual on dark elves."

The pair are waiting for me at the doorway and I avoid eye contact with either of them. As we are making our escape, Morpheus calls out, "Aldebaran, perhaps you should come to one of my parties."

Father noticeably balks. "I must decline your kind offer. I am not that interesting."

............