Niamh held her breath.

“I beg your pardon?” King Lorcan asked the drunken elflord.

“I said,” swayed the elf. “You can’t be our King, no matter how handsome you are. He has an ice-cold heart that longs for war. No elfmaiden would marry such a King.”

“You are handsome,” Niamh agreed quietly.

King Lorcan’s eyebrow twitched.

“Indeed,” he said.

Then, suddenly, Lorcan clapped the elf on the shoulder laughed, and turned to ...