3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Malkov

"W here the hell is my bride?" Malkov Ulric Tybalt Cerel, King of Lions Grove and Ruler of the Human Realm, threw the latches on his study open and stormed inside. It was far too late at night to be dealing with this crap after a full day of wedding festivities. She should've been returned hours ago.

He didn't know how she'd avoided his guards, but when his mage sensor had gone off earlier that afternoon…it must have been her. There was no other explanation.

His cunning little wife had figured out a way to outsmart his tattoo. A lead weight settled in his stomach. He'd have to consult with the Master Artificer to make sure whatever loophole she'd exploited was closed immediately.

Baron Larimar scuttled into the room behind him as the doors swung shut.

The four Larimar sentries stood at attention in front of his desk. Two had singe marks and rips in their cloaks and trousers. All stunk of smoke and sulfur.

Brooks lounged off to the side, his arms crossed. His black uniform was unmarred except for two holes in the corners of his cloak. The magestone in his hand sparkled as it pulled a steady trickle of power from Malkov's tattoo.

Malkov turned his best glare on the baron's men. "Well?"

They didn't move, their eyes downcast.

At least they had backbone, if not much else. He let the silence linger and become uncomfortable.

Finally, the captain's throat bobbed. "Forgive us, Your Majesty. She had help. An archer…"

"The four of you couldn't handle one noblewoman and a bowman?" His rage flared, heat flooding his veins. "This reeks of a conspiracy. I think you helped her." He glowered at the baron, who lingered by the door looking as though he would bolt at any second. The coward. "You surround yourself with fools and incompetents. Guards!"

Three of Malkov's men, dressed in the royal black and vermilion, appeared. They elbowed past his new father-in-law into the center of the room. He smirked and turned to his soldiers. "Escort the Larimar sentries to the dungeons."

The baron squeaked. "All of them, Majesty?"

"All of them." Malkov draped his arm over the other man's shoulders. "Relax, Walter. It's just until Aliya's back where she belongs." Using the leverage his grip provided, he steered the man through the door after the guards, closing and latching it before Walter could annoy him further.

With a muttered curse, the king collapsed into his chair. He rested his elbows on the desk and massaged his temples. This was a disaster. She could be anywhere by now.

This is what he got for trusting in the competence of greedy, self-absorbed aristocrats like Walter Larimar. How that man had worked his way up through the noble ranks was beyond comprehension.

From Walter's description, Aliya had the self-preservation instinct of a lemming. She was supposed to go meekly along with the flow and do as she was told.

So much for that.

"Mrow?"

Four soft paws landed on the table. A fuzzy head butted his arm, asking for pets.

"Hello, Shadow. No little kitty friend this evening?" It seemed everyone was disappearing these days. He paused, narrowing his gaze as he studied Shadow as it clicked into place.

It couldn't have been…

That was how she did it! The kitten! It was just his luck that the most powerful mage remaining in his kingdom was also a shapeshifter. Walter had promised if they kept Aliya dehydrated, she wouldn't be able to change shape. Clearly, her father didn't know what he'd been talking about. Or he'd been flat-out lying.

Malkov cursed and slammed his fist against the armrest. Shadow arched her back and skittered to the far side of the desk.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. The wedding festivities must have addled his brain. But the other feline had been so small he hadn't even considered the possibility.

Narrowing his eyes, he studied Shadow. But, of course, she couldn't have known…she was just a cat.

Reaching for her, he threaded his fingers through her long black fur. He exhaled as the vibrating purr chased the headache away.

She shifted from side to side, massaging the edge of his desk with her front feet.

"What am I going to do?" he asked her. "If I can't even control my wife, how can I expect to maintain power?"

He had to get her back. Even as a shapeshifter, there were few places in the realm where she could hide from his tattoo or Brooks' magestone. The Mage College was an obvious choice, but she had to know that would be the first place he'd search.

Shadow licked her nose and tilted her head, moving his hand to scratch under her cheek. She purred louder as he hit the desired spot.

He leaned back in the chair and studied the oval-shaped skulls mounted above his door, their elongated canines on full display. The remains of the two sun elves who'd killed his parents.

Already the vultures at court circled, sensing weakness. The King's Guard were loyal, but he couldn't risk having them scattered across the realm in a search for Aliya. He needed them here.

And as the Master Artificer constantly reminded him, he required a power boost to finish the construction of the Whisperers…his ultimate weapon, and the only way he could hope to defeat the elven army.

Perhaps a visit to the Mage College would kill two birds with one stone, allowing him a decent volume of magic and eliminate a hiding place for his new wife.

Malkov glanced at his ledger book. On the off chance he failed to find her there, he could bring in outside help. With a high enough reward, he'd have eyes in every city, on every road, in the kingdom. How much could he afford to offer? The alchemists developing his new weapons devoured the crown's excess funds, and that was no less of a priority.

A tight smile stretched across his lips. No one said he had to pay the reward. If the hunter and the bounty both disappeared upon delivery, no one would think twice, assuming the unfortunate left quietly to enjoy their prize unmolested.

"Mrow?" Shadow protested when he withdrew his hands and stood. It was time to refresh his magic, too, or Brooks' magestone would die. There were still a few prisoners below with sufficient levels of power to meet his needs.

He unlatched the door. "Send a message to the scribe. One thousand gold pieces for the safe return of Her Majesty, Aliya Larimar Cerel. The reward is void if she is returned… damaged." The guard outside saluted and pulled the door closed.

Turning to the one remaining man in the room, he said, "Brooks, get her back. Alive. She can't have gone far." Shoving himself from his chair, Malkov stepped past him. "I'll be in the dungeon."