9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Zadé

T wo nights later, Zadé sat at the far edge of the bar, close enough to easily order another round, but far enough to the side to have a good view of the room. Taverns in this part of Westcliff were more likely than most to produce a decent fight or other sort of entertainment, but the patrons had to keep their wits about them if they wanted to wake up the next morning. The World's End was no exception.

She only picked them out of the crowd because they were such polar opposites. The young girl was practically made of sunshine, from her golden hair and tan complexion to the fancy blue dress she wore under the nondescript cloak. Good thing it was night. Zadé chuckled. If she wasn't careful, the human would blind her.

The elf, on the other hand, with his dark skin and clothing, and the black hood pulled over his head to hide his ears, personified darkness incarnate.

How long since she'd seen a mountain elf? She shrugged. Eh. It didn't really matter. The last two centuries were a blur, anyway.

She chugged the final swallows of her ale. Patting her hair to make sure the dark curls still obscured the pointed tips of her ears, she hollered, "Barkeep! Another!" She threw a few more random coins on the counter.

The girl sat at the first empty chairs they encountered. Her companion shook his head and gestured to the far end of the room, where there was a free booth against the wall.

Zadé squinted past her double vision. They were arguing. She frowned. The elf had the right of it. Sitting in the middle of the room was only smart if both people could watch all directions at once. The girl had no clue how things worked here.

The male ushered the human to the unoccupied table he indicated earlier and signaled a barmaid to bring dinner and drinks. He didn't quite act like a bodyguard, though that made the most sense in a place like this. And since when did elves work for humans? Last she checked, there was a war going on.

Zadé scoffed. If he was a bodyguard, he was a terrible one.

Prompt as always, another mug slid into her hand.

"Here's your tenth tonight," the bartender said.

No, surely it was only her fifth. Maybe sixth. How much money did she have left, anyway?

Whatever. She shrugged and took a healthy swig of the new drink.

Well, she'd never satisfy her curiosity if she didn't go say hello.

She pushed herself up from the bar and gave the floor a few seconds to settle down. Grabbing her tankard, she swayed her way over to the newcomers.

Borrowing an unattended chair from the adjacent table, she turned it backward and straddled it, slamming her mug down in front of them. She frowned for a second as the ale splashed over the rim and onto the ground. Such a shame, to waste good booze.

Zadé looked at the startled pair. "Whooo are youuu," she asked the mountain elf. She pointed her finger at him, to be extra clear.

Alarm flashed across the bodyguard's face, but it was gone in a heartbeat, replaced by the wariness of a soldier appraising an enemy. The human woman froze, ready to flee.

That was interesting. Maybe.

Zadé waved her hand carelessly toward her. "Don't worry, princesss…I ain't gunna hurt ya. I just wanna know what th' elf iz doing here."

If possible, the girl's eyes widened further as she paled. "Princess?"

"Well, yer noble, aintcha?" Perhaps she was slow, too. Many human nobles were, after all. "Princesses're pretty high up. Take th' compliment."

When the girl did nothing more entertaining than blink a few times, Zadé turned her attention back to the man. "Fer a bodyguard, yer doin' a mish-mash job o' it."

He finally opened his mouth. "Excuse me?"

"Yeh sat yer charge down in th' wrong seat. Yeh should've taken the corner booth." Zadé gestured to the alcove, where three burly men played cards. "That way, yeh can watch all directions at once. Yer a terrible bodyguard." Turning her focus back to the other one, she said, "Yeh need t' hire better help if yer goin' t' be comin' int' places like this, Princess."

The noble got huffy. "Who are you to speak to us like this?"

"Oh, sorry!" She held her hand out, but mis-aimed. It flopped against the table before she was able to do more than brush the human's fingers. "Name's Zadé. Nice ta meetcha!" She managed to grab the Princess' hand and give it a friendly yank.

The girl reclaimed her limb, shaking it, and glanced at her escort. Zadé almost missed his subtle nod.

"I'm, um…B-Beth." She licked her lips.

"Beth, huh?" She dipped her head. "Fine name, Princess." She turned to the elf and held out her hand. "Zadé, pleased ta meetcha!"

The man reluctantly shook her hand. "Elessan."

She settled into her chair, set her elbows on the table and propped her chin up with her hands. "Izzz been a long time since I seen a mountain elf, Elsan. Whatcha doin' in these parts?"

Leaning forward and matching her deliberately relaxed posture with his own, he hissed, "Keep your voice down."

Zadé blinked at him. Of all the bars in Westcliff, this is the one that would be least likely to care that they were elves, as long as their money was good. If he didn't know that, then why'd he come here?

Leaning back, he crossed his arms and muttered, "And I haven't laid eyes on a moon elf in ages."

She barely heard his words over the din of the crowd.

He blinked as his face went momentarily blank. "Wait. Zadé…Brightleaf?" He widened his eyes. "What's a Brightleaf doing in a place like this?"

Well, crap on a cracker.

She was saved from having to come up with a retort when, behind them, a group of local mercenary thugs filed into the tavern. They split into groups, each going in a different direction. That was unusual—most nights they came to drink like everyone else. This time, they were definitely looking for someone. A man dressed in black with a dark crimson jewel stuck in the middle of his forehead followed them in.

Zadé smiled. Tonight's entertainment was about to begin.

Elessan paused when Zadé's attention shifted, and an anticipatory smile crept over her face.

He turned, keeping his movements slow and smooth. Seven men with matching red cloaks lined the front wall of the room. They fanned out around the edges of the space as Brooks, Malkov's Arcane Inquisitor, stepped through the door.

Elessan's heart skipped a beat. They'd tracked Aliya so quickly…

The humans didn't move like professional soldiers, but they were more organized than a common street gang. Bounty hunters or mercenaries then. Brooks gestured in their direction. As one, they moved closer.

Valek.

The oval jewel embedded in the Inquisitor's forehead flashed red, illuminating the whole room. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed like the light curved like an arrow caught in the breeze, bending toward them.

Brooks met his gaze from across the room. Elessan's gut churned as his heart leaped into his throat. The man's eyes were milk-white, but he navigated as though he could see perfectly well.

Elessan hadn't done anything noteworthy—lately—to earn himself a price on his head. Besides, Westcliff wasn't exactly known for its law-abiding nature, or for its loyalty to the crown, so the bounty must be exorbitant to catch attention here. He needed to get Aliya out. Closing his hands around his sword handles, he loosened the weapons for an easy draw.

The red cloaks stood between them and the main entrance. Maybe there was an exit through the kitchen? He didn't want to take that bet without being certain.

He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "Zadé, is there a back way out of here?"

Aliya's eyes went wide, and she froze as she noticed the thugs across the room.

Zadé shook her head. "Nope. Why'd ya ask?"

Because he'd hoped that some small part of the Zadé Brightleaf of old, the best tactician in the elven army, was still there, buried beneath the drunkard. He could use some of that strategic genius right now. "We need to leave. Can you create a distraction?"

"What, like start a fight?" At his nod, she broke out into a huge grin. "Yeah! Sure! I love bar fights!"

Howling with glee, she jumped up, knocking her seat to the floor. Pulling her hair back to reveal her pointed ears and grabbing Aliya's mostly finished soup, she threw it with all her might. The contents rained down on several of the patrons before the bowl disappeared into the crowd.

Elessan grabbed Aliya's wrist, urging her to her feet and away from the red cloaks and inquisitor.

Someone from the next table stood and turned on Zadé, drunken rage on his face. He balled up his fist and swung. She tripped over her overturned chair, avoiding the other man's punch. As she flailed for balance, her hand connected with another patron's nose, which collapsed with a loud crack and a spurt of blood.

Elessan shook his head. Zadé was an incredibly lucky drunk when it came to brawling, it seemed. He pitied those who'd fought against her two hundred years ago, when she'd been sober.

Someone on the other side of the room screamed, "Bar fight!"

That was the cue the rest of the tavern was waiting for. A chorus of screeches like fingernails on slate assaulted him as several people stood, scraping their chairs across the floor in unison. Food and fists flew.

Valek. Who would have thought it'd be so easy to start a room-wide brawl? Tensions in the region must be simmering more than he'd realized.

Nudging Aliya behind him, he drew a sword and backed toward the corner furthest from the red-cloaked mercenaries. The two closest to him brandished their blades.

His fingers tightened as they slid into the worn grooves in the hilt. He could handle a couple local thugs, if Aliya stayed out of the way. It was the Arcane Inquisitor that worried him.

Zadé's whoop of joy carried over the din. She was several paces to his left, holding a bar stool and spinning as fast as she could. The seat acted like a club, dropping unconscious bodies at her feet. Then she tripped over one. Her chair went flying, smashing into the face of the nearest red cloak. The mercenary dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Woo-hoo! I got him, Elsan, I got him!" She flashed him a gleeful smile before twirling and slamming her fist into another patron's gut.

Elessan managed to back Aliya underneath the stairs, out of the crossfire. She peeked around his side, wide-eyed as the red cloaks creeped ever closer. Her shallow breaths caressed the fine hairs covering his arm.

One of the mercenaries, still by the door, drew a crossbow and shot a bolt over the crowd. It landed with a loud thunk in the stair frame above Elessan's head.

He ducked.

Valek!

He pressed his sword into Aliya's hand. "Hold this for a moment." Drawing his bow, he notched an arrow. Aiming at the inquisitor, he fired through the crowd.

The arrow buried itself in his target's lower left abdomen, missing the vital organs.

By Abaddon. Of all the ill luck.

Brooks stumbled to a knee, dropping out of sight.

Hopefully the wound would slow him down so they could get away. Sliding his bow over his shoulder, Elessan reclaimed his blade from Aliya.

"We're trapped," she said. "What now?" Panic pitched her voice higher than usual.

"We need a way out." He scanned the room. Surely there was a window or door with a clear enough path for them to escape.

Across the tavern, the fire in the hearth exploded as though someone had spilled some high-proof alcohol near it. The flames scaled the wall. Elessan's stomach plummeted to the floor.

Zadé slammed into the panel beside them. "Elsan! Princess! Let's go!" She gestured to a tiny porthole off to the left. "Help me get that open!"

Elessan turned to the too-small opening he'd overlooked. It was impossible—they'd never fit. From the corner of his eye, crimson flashed. Bringing his sword up, he intercepted the red cloak's blade as it sliced toward his neck.

"Zadé, stand back!" Aliya's order barely registered. Seconds later, a wave of heat broke against his shoulder blades, followed by the shattering of glass and timber. Her quiet "Oops" drifted through a momentary break in the din.

"Don't let them escape!" Brooks screamed from halfway across the room.

The red cloak's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he stared at something behind Elessan. Taking advantage of his opponent's distraction, Elessan dragged his weapon across the other man's throat.

"Holy houses, Princess!" Zadé sounded much more sober than she had before the bar fight started. "Yeh should warn a person yer gunna be blastin' holes in walls."

"Elessan, come on!" Through a refractile burst of pink sparkles, Aliya waved her hand at him, urging him forward.

Waiting another second to make sure the red cloak would stay down, Elessan heaved himself up.

"Duck!" Aliya screamed, her eyes wide.

He dropped to the ground as another crossbow bolt shot through where his torso had been a heartbeat ago. The arrow sailed through the sparkling rosy cloud and the new hole in the wall.

He rolled as she tugged him to his feet. Hand in hand, they ran through the breach, escaping into the fresh air of the evening. Smoke and several patrons flooded out after them. Half the building was engulfed. A twinge of guilt at the owner's devastation settled in his gut as he shook glitter from his hair.

Aliya sat on top of a hill beyond Westcliff, where Zadé had led them. Below, the tavern burned. The townspeople scurried around like little ants, throwing water on the fire, trying to protect the surrounding buildings. To her inexperienced eye, the inn was going to be a total loss. The flames jumped to the mercantile next door but were quickly smothered. The pit of guilt still gnawed at her insides.

"I feel so bad," she said. The tavern's owner had lost his livelihood because of her. She should've stayed in the forest like Elessan had asked her to.

Elessan sighed. "It's not your fault, Aliya. I'm the one who thought Westcliff was safe."

She shook her head. "This isn't your doing, either."

Emerging from the trees and plopping down in front of Aliya, Zadé crossed her legs, rested her elbows on her knees, and braced her chin with her hands. "Don't worry." She paused. "AH-lee-uh. A brawl would'a broke out sometime tonight, no matter what. The World's End is always up for a good rumble." She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Yer much more interesting than I originally thought, Princessss. What's yer story?"

"My story?" Her blood froze as her heart skipped a beat. The last thing she needed to do was share her history with every person she came across.

Her attention flicked to Elessan. Though it had worked out well for her in his case, eventually her luck would run out.

"The Red Cloaks are ‘xpensive. No offense, Elsan," Zadé said, with a brief head-bob, "but Princessss here's more likely ta have connections with money ta hire ‘em." She turned her gaze on Aliya. "So…who wants ya, and what'd ya do?"

Aliya toyed with not answering. After all, Zadé was a stranger, and an elf. She had no idea where her loyalty lay.

Elessan glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. The silence stretched and became awkward.

Aliya rubbed her temples and sighed. The woman had been instrumental in their escape. The least she could do was answer the question, but in as few words as possible.

"I ran away to avoid a bad marriage." And to not have her magic carved out as her husband murdered her.

Zadé guffawed and slapped her knee. "Took off ta be with yer boyfriend here, more like!"

Aliya's skin flooded with heat. She studied the ground at her feet, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. Just because he was attractive and looked good with his shirt off didn't mean she wanted to court him.

Beside her, Elessan stammered and shook his head. "No, nothing like that. At all."

Zadé punched him in the shoulder. "Relax, Elsan. I's pullin' yer leg. But Princess here blushed!"

Aliya peeked at him through her tresses.

His solemn gaze flicked to hers before turning back to Zadé.

"Hey! Rumor sez the king's man was in town lookin' fer somethin'." Zadé leaned forward, squinting. "Or someone." She waved a finger victoriously in front of Aliya's face. "I betcha he was searchin' fer you!"

Elessan slapped her hand away. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed, drawing his blade and putting it against Zadé's throat.

Zadé blew a raspberry and laughed so hard she nearly bowled over backward. "Don't worry, Elsan. I got better things ta do then turn Princess here over ta the law."

With a frown, Elessan glanced at Aliya as if trying to see what she thought. She shrugged as he lowered his sword.

It seemed like all Zadé really cared about was brawling and drinking. She was hardly a threat, and she had probably saved their lives.

Zadé pushed herself back upright. "Speaking of, Princess, pick a different pretend name. Yeh stammered like ye'd never said Beth afore."

Aliya turned her attention back to the burning tavern below, hiding her face from the others as she waited for the heat to fade.

"Tell us about the Red Cloaks—" Elessan paused— "General."

Aliya almost kissed him for his kindness in changing the subject. She almost missed his last word. Squinting, she eyed the other elf. Nothing in Zadé's attire or demeanor indicated any military training. At least, based on what she'd seen of human soldiers.

Zadé glared. "Don't call me that."

Elessan lifted one shoulder in a shrug, then looked away, breaking eye contact.

With a deep breath and a quick glance at Aliya, she leaned back, staring at the sky. "Not much ta tell, really. They're a bunch'a local thugs-for-hire. Good fer bullyin' folks weaker ‘n them when they're bored, or as hired muscle when they're paid." She shrugged. "Like any human with a little bit o'power."

Turning her attention back to the flames below, Aliya swallowed. "What do we do now? You still have things you need to do in town. And I need to get to the college." A weight settled across her shoulders at the thought of leaving Elessan, but she'd be safe there.

"Ya mean the Mage College?" Zadé shook her head emphatically. "No, Princess…ya don't wanna go there. They'z all murdered last night!"

Aliya's blood turned to ice as she whirled to face Zadé. "Killed? By who?" The ground dropped from beneath her—all those people, and her only safety net…gone.

Elessan's voice rattled her bones as his fingers tightened around the grips of his swords. "Malkov." His jaw was so tense the snapping tendons were audible.

Aliya's head spun. Her husband must have decided to forgo the rest of the wedding festivities after all.

Dropping to the grass, she buried her face in her hands. Her throat swelled, choking off anything she would've said. Their deaths were on her. She pressed her eyes closed against the stinging.

A hand squeezed her shoulder. "This isn't your fault." Elessan's breath tickled her ear. "There was nothing you could've done."

"What do ya mean, not her fault?" Zadé paused, and the turf in front of Aliya rustled. "Unless you're the one who killed them…?"

"What?" Aliya dropped her hands and glared at the other woman, who was leaning forward, inches from her face, eyes narrowed. "Of course I didn't!" She slapped the tips of the grass with one hand and turned away. "I'm no murderer." Though she may as well be…if she hadn't run away, Malkov would never have come to the Mage College.

Zadé smacked her palms together like she was brushing off dirt. "Well, then, Elsan's right…not yer fault."

Aliya bit her lip to keep from arguing. There was nothing she could say that would convince them otherwise, even if they were wrong. Her shoulders curled forward as she sighed.

Elessan cleared his throat. "Let's hunt down somewhere nearby to camp. If we don't light a fire, we should be hard to find. We can set watches during the night. Even the Arcane Inquisitor will need a few days to heal from an arrow in the gut." He raised an eyebrow at Zadé. "I assume you're planning to join us for the evening?"

She shrugged. "Sure. I ain't got nothin' better ta do tonight since th' waterin' hole burnt down, and nowhere ta sleep, so…" She plopped down and patted the dirt beside her. "How about right here?"

King Malkov stood on the balcony outside what had been Aliya's room in the palace. The stone beneath his feet still radiated the day's warmth. Brooks and the Red Cloaks had found Aliya in Westcliff, in the company of two elves. He shuddered. Elves. Dreadful creatures. And his new wife seemed to be allying herself with them; the kingdom's sworn enemies for over a hundred years. Who knew what he'd do if she fled his kingdom for theirs.

Or if they took her prisoner. It was what he would do if he was an elf. Even the dim-witted beasts would recognize her significance as a political prisoner.

The Red Cloak Mercenaries were the best bounty hunters in the realm. Hence, their high price tag. Truth be told, he'd have paid any cost for the return of his bride, whether or not the treasury could afford it. Any expense would be worth it once he'd used her magic to eradicate the pointy-eared miscreants.

He clenched his fists until his fingernails cut into his palms.

"Mrow?" Shadow came up behind him and rubbed against his calves.

"If the blasted Red Cloaks are so good," he said, crouching to run his hands down the silky fur of her back, "why, then, did she escape? Again."

Aliya was not supposed to be self-sufficient enough to evade both Brooks and trained mercenaries on her own. According to her father, she had no experience in combat, or in the wilds. She should've been easy to recover, even with her errant magic.

Shadow leapt onto the banister and tilted her head, blinking at him.

He scratched the cat's chin. He'd never admit it in public, but… "I'm starting to get worried, Shadow."

She purred and arched her neck to move his fingers until they were underneath her ear.

"I'm beginning to think those elves accompanying Aliya may be more competent than I expected." Too much so. "What will I do if I can't retrieve her?" If he couldn't access her power for his artificers' new weapons? His hand stilled as lead congealed in his gut. If that was the case, the war was lost.

The cat opened her eyes and pouted at him. When he didn't resume petting her, she flicked her whiskers and redirected her focus to the garden below.

Malkov sighed. "I wish you were human. You're the only one I can trust. You've never let me down, my one, true friend. You'd bring Aliya back for me, wouldn't you?"

Shadow's tail swished against the railing as though agreeing with him before she jumped down and strolled into a darkened corner of the balcony.

He turned his attention from the cat and glanced at the sky. Perhaps his wife could be reasoned with. Everyone wanted the chance to contribute to saving the world, right?

He rubbed his hands up and down his forearms. The energy he'd taken from the mages at the college tingled as it danced over his skin. He'd intended it to be used to infuse more of his new weapons, but if he could use a small amount to dream walk and convince her to return of her own free will, it would be power well spent.

He brushed the energy from his arms as though wiping off cobwebs and crushed it into a tiny ball between his palms. Keeping Aliya's form firmly in mind, he tossed the magic on the balcony floor by the railing.

Light flashed with a pop of released pressure in his ears.

Aliya stood several paces away with her back to him. She frowned as she turned her head left and right. "El? Zadé?" She glanced at the stars above, and the edge of her frown pulled up into a smile.

"Mrow?" Shadow jumped onto the banister and stared at her expectantly.

Malkov scowled, biting back the growl that rumbled in his throat. Traitor cat.

"Hello, pretty. What's going on?" She scooted forward, threading her fingers through the animal's scruff. Shadow's purr carried through the air as Aliya wrapped her in a hug and buried her face in the black fur.

"Aliya." He stepped up beside her, resting his hands against the balcony rail and staring into the darkened gardens below.

She startled.

A smile stretched across his face as warm satisfaction spread through his gut. "I've summoned you via dream walking so we can have a conversation." Unfortunately, the spell was only temporary, at best lasting for just a few minutes. He needed to be quick or the magic would run its course and she'd disappear again.

Shadow leaped down and scurried into the darkness.

"Do you remember the last time we stood here?" he asked. The night before their wedding—when he'd been less than twenty-four hours away from setting everything in the realm to right.

She gulped.

He nodded. "I see you do. I meant what I said that night, and I don't find this stunt you've pulled amusing at all." His stomach tensed at the thought of his nobles laughing behind his back. Great King Malkov…left at the altar by his blushing bride. The outer corners of his lips tightened.

She squinted and glared at him. "Why did you wed me then?"

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You don't have to marry someone to steal their power. You proved that when you massacred everyone at the Mage College."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. A burning sensation erupted in his chest, flaring through his muscles as he ground his teeth. Forcing himself to unclench his fists, he took a deep breath. "Reappropriated, Aliya. Magic I reappropriated. For use in the war, as is my right as king."

She gestured to the north. "You gave up all the land around Taldea Pass, and control of the Northern Port, in exchange for my hand. If you only wanted my magic, why didn't you just take it?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the subtleties of politics." He groaned and stared at the heavens. "The elves attack our borders every week."

She raised her eyebrow. "I know."

"They steal our food, kidnap our women and eat our babies."

Pressing her lips into a frown, she shoved her hands into her pockets. "They're not all like—"

He sliced one hand down through the air, cutting her off. "What would you know of it? Have you ever been to a battlefield? Surveyed the site of a recent raid?"

"Well, no."

She chewed the inside of her cheek as his heart fluttered, speeding energy to his muscles at his impending victory. "I have. I've seen it all, and the atrocities must stop."

Turning away, she studied the shadowy garden below. "I'm sure the elves would say the same," she muttered.

He clenched his teeth against a growl. Heavens save him from stubborn females. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his jaw. "As rulers, it's our job to do everything we can to protect our people. Do you agree?"

"Of course." She turned to face him, crossing her arms and leaning one hip against the banister. "Everyone in our kingdom deserves royal protection. Including the mages you murdered last night!"

He opened his mouth but she stepped forward, the brutal expression on her face sucking the words from his lips.

"Don't give me your hypocritical ‘one dies to save the rest' speech, because I don't believe for a minute it will end with me. You are far too drunk on magic to give it up, even if the war ended."

A dull ache thudded between his temples and behind his eyes. He fought the urge to massage the area. "Why can't you just see reason? Our realm will be free! We'll no longer have to worry about elven spies and assassins lurking in our midst, or raids along our borders, the mutilation of our women and children." He swallowed past his suddenly dry throat as his ribs constricted. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pulled her toward him until they were eye to eye. "Surely one death is worth that. Think of our people in the borderlands. You could singlehandedly save them all."

Squeezing her eyes tight in a grimace, she turned her head to the side as far as it would go. "I won't be responsible for the genocide of an entire race."

Something snapped in his mind. Heat flooded his veins, tinting his vision crimson.

If only he'd been able to keep his nobles under heel like his father had, through sheer terror and force of personality. Then he'd simply do what needed to be done, rather than mess with this political song and dance. "Listen, wife. " He fixed her with a hard glare. "If you don't cooperate, your father will die…it'll be painful, tragic and quite unexpected. A hunting accident, I'm thinking. With no one else to inherit, all assets belonging to the Larimar barony will revert to the crown. Of course, I'll make sure you both receive a proper burial, with full honors, as befitting your stations." He chuckled. It would be amusing, watching the court dance to his song as they fervently thanked the gods they didn't share the Larimar's fate.

Aliya blanched.

"If you come home now," he continued, "I'll make your father's death quick and painless."

She studied the stars, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. Her breathing was shallow and rapid as she leaned against the banister as if her knees would no longer support her.

She wasn't even paying attention. If threatening her father wasn't sufficient motivation, he'd have to find a different trigger to leverage.

Heat flooded his chest, turning his vision crimson. He grabbed her chin and yanked her head around to face him. She tried to jerk away but he held her fast. "You will look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway inside, followed by a gentle tap on the door.

Malkov glared at the noise, as though his eyes could bore through the wood and fry the intruder on the far side. The magic that crawled over his skin and infused the spell started to fade. He turned to Aliya and grabbed her arm. "I've declared you a traitor to the realm and placed a bounty on your head high enough to tempt even the most sympathetic peasant. You'll be hunted throughout the kingdom, and the longer it takes me to find you, the angrier I'll be." He tossed her to the floor.

She gasped and pulled her wrist against her chest.

He spun, heading back inside. "Think about my offer, because one way or another, I will have your magic for the war effort." He blinked as she disappeared with a pop of displaced air.

The knock echoed again.

"What?!" Marching across the balcony, he reached the door and yanked it open. "What do you want?"

Garrick, his master artificer, squinted at him through spectacles that made his eyes seem bigger than they had any right to be. His frizzy gray hair stuck out in all directions like a cloud of smoke that encircled the old man's head. He nodded, nudging his glasses a little higher on his nose as he cleared his throat. "My king, I've brought the next three Whisperers, as you requested."

Malkov dropped his attention to the serving tray. The silver canisters sparkled in the starlight.

They were the most beautiful things he had ever seen, and the key to his kingdom's salvation.

"They are ready to be infused, Your Majesty."

Malkov smiled. "Excellent." He certainly had enough magic leftover from the Mage College to fill two of them. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he'd be able to top off all three. Gesturing inside, he glanced over the edge of the balcony. "Leave them on my desk, thank you."

Garrick bowed, heading back inside.

As he sat the tray down as indicated, Malkov came up behind him, wrapping his arm around one shoulder. "I have a new task for you."

The master artificer raised an eyebrow, a spark of interest glimmering in his eye. "Oh?"

Malkov steered the man toward the exit. "Do you think it's possible to design a magical device that will prevent magic from being used against the owner?"

Garrick frowned, coming to a stop. Tilting his head to the side, he studied Malkov as he stroked his chin. Finally, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and nodded. "An interesting challenge. I suppose that would depend on the nature of said magic?"

Hmm. Malkov peered at him. "Elves. Specifically, something that would allow a wearer to pass through their forests unhindered." It was past time to take the fight to them, deep into the heart of their territory.

The artificer stared off into space for several heartbeats. "That would be challenging… it's never been done before."

Malkov bit back a snarl. Of course it hadn't. If it had, he'd have wiped out the elves long ago.

"Are you planning an invasion, Your Majesty? Will we need to come up with something that will protect the entire army?"

Chewing on his inner cheek, Malkov shook his head. As tempting as that would be, it wasn't practical. "No. Just a small group, no more than three to five people, I would imagine."

A surgical strike force armed with whisperers would be more likely to succeed than a full-scale attack.

The corner of his lips pulled up into a smile as Garrick nodded. "Very well, Majesty. I'll get started right away and let you know what I come up with."

"Excellent." Malkov guided the man through the door into the hallway. "Oh, and Garrick."

"Yes?" The man turned.

"This request is both time sensitive and secret. Work quickly and tell no one."

He bowed and strode down the hall.

Malkov sighed. The order was a tall one, something never before attempted. But if anyone in the realm could pull it off, it would be the Master Artificer. Hopefully, if all went well, he'd have Aliya's magic and the means to destroy the heart of the elven territory before the next season.