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“My blade!” he shouted. Another soldier moved in her path, reaching out to grab her. She slashed at him. He threw up his forearms to block her strike and she dragged the dagger’s sharp edge across them and shoved her foot into his belly, sending him flying back. All she saw was Tenebris, the bastard who needed to die. He deserved to suffer and plead for his life, but she would have to make this quick. He slowly backed into guards, grabbing several to push in front of him.

“I need her alive.”

Coward. She moved through them, stabbing and kicking and slicing. Ducking under blows and blades, taking them down with speed and precision. She didn’t think; she moved like a storm taking down all in her wake. She thought all elves could move as quickly as her, but they were seconds behind her. Until a string of bodies lay behind her and she was in front of the coward king, his eyes wide with terror. With a roar like a wild beast that belonged in the cursed forest, she swung down at him. Aiming for the soft flesh between his neck and shoulder.

“Stay that weapon, Layala!” Mathekis’s command washed over her, freezing her muscles. The blade stopped a breath away from landing. His power pulsed through her, like her skin throbbed and invisible talons groped her flesh, pulling her back.No! He wouldn’t take this moment from her. The one thing she’d wanted since she was a child, her sole obsession. She grunted, pushing with all her might, her arm shook with the effort, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her gaze flicked to Mathekis, who stood among the soldiers, partially hidden under his hood but the strain on his face was noticeable. Was it only a battle of wills?

Tenebris smiled wickedly, the huge grin of a mad elf, and he started laughing. A dark, mocking chuckle.

“Now step away from the king,” Mathekis commanded.

“No,” she said through clenched teeth, muscles straining once more to force the strike. She broke through his persuasion and hacked down as Tenebris backed away. The blade slid across his tunic, but she didn’t puncture his flesh. Several guards grabbed her arms and around the waist, and no matter how she jerked and kicked, she couldn’t break free.

“You might be a warrior, Layala but you’re no match for Mathekis’s power,” Tenebris said.

“You’re dead already,” Layala growled. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Chapter8

Thane opened his eyes to a wood-planked ceiling above him. He sat up quickly, heart thundering. The soft ivory blanket covering his bare torso was unfamiliar as was this room. Dark curtains were drawn over the window, a small white table with a single burning candle gave off the only light, casting shadowed corners.Where am I?he thought, glancing around the strange room.

He set his bare feet on the wood floor and stood. The boards creaked under his weight no doubt giving away that he was awake.And why am I only in underwear?He hadn’t woken up almost nude in an unfamiliar place in a long time. His fingertips glided over a brown wrap tight around his middle. And it struck him that the pain was nearly gone. He hadn’t even struggled to get out of the bed, hadn’t felt the sharp twinge when he moved or had to grit his teeth at the aching throb. He tugged at the corner of the wrap and began to unravel it until it dropped to the ground. The scar was still there but smaller and matched the color of his skin rather than an angry pink. His abdomen was slick with oils that smelled strongly of pine needles, mint, and something else he couldn’t name.

He remembered now that he was to meet someone at an apothecary. Sensing he wasn’t in danger, the muscles in his back and shoulders loosened. His clothes sat folded neatly on the trunk at the foot of the bed, and his weapons were laid next to them. He dressed quickly, smiling that it barely hurt every time he moved. Whoever was here knew a great deal more about healing than Vesstan did.

Pulling aside the window’s dark-gray curtain, he spotted the bright pinks and blues of the morning sky. He’d been there all night then. He paused with his hand on the door handle and listened to the faint call of morning birds outside and the rumble of voices from somewhere below. Two males, two to three females were nearby. The door clicked when he opened it, and he stepped into a bright hallway. Stained-glass windows on the right overlooked the street and buildings from the second floor. At the end of the corridor was a set of stairs he silently descended. He peeked around the corner into the main apothecary. Weeping plants hung from the wood rafters and potted in colorful containers on tables and plant pillars. Tifapine sat on a bench set up against the large floor-to-ceiling window, swinging her little legs as she looked outside. She giggled to herself. Leif and Gunner relaxed on brown leather couches in a small lounge area. They held white cups of steaming liquid in hand, and with them was a female with red roots flowing into blonde tips—Pearl. “Do you have news about Layala?”

The group turned to face him, and Leif and Gunner stood. “Sire,” they both said. Pearl slowly rose, keeping her eyes down, and nervously fidgeted with the hem of her apron. This wasn’t new behavior; she was always like this in his presence.

A lady with hip-length black, curly hair and light-tan skin stepped out from a door behind the countertop. She and Evalyn grinned and chatted like two old friends. “I find poppy oil best for deep injuries, but I’ll have to give the rose oil a try next time,” she said. “And what about fennel seed? Have you used that in your tonic?”

“I haven’t,” Evalyn’s eyebrows raised. “Sounds like I should be.”

Wisps of smoke from incense sticks swirled and moved along behind them. Just noticing him standing in the room, the healer started and then smiled. “Good morning, your highness. How do you feel? Is there anything I can get you?” She stopped next to the shelves of different colored bottles lined on the wall behind her. Some amber, others red or blue or green. All different shapes and sizes, from skinny, tall beakers to bulbous bottles with cork stoppers.

With one hand on his torso that was only lightly tender now, he cleared his throat and stepped out. “I feel much better. I think I owe you a thank-you.” Not only for healing him but for keeping quiet when his presence here would put her life in danger.

She put a fist on her hip, and brown eyes trailed over him. “Works like a charm every time.” She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Madam Adley and this is my apothecary.” She shook his hand with a firm grip that said she was confident in who she was, and nodded toward the four on the couches. “They didn’t believe you’d be up this morning. But they don’t know what I do.”

“What did you use?”

She winked. “A little pine, a little frivalla, poppy oil for the base and a touch of magic.”

Thane’s brow furrowed. “You’re a mage?” He supposed it was possible that others still existed or had never been tested. Especially after what people saw happen to Layala’s parents; they might hide their children.

“That depends on your definition of mage. Was I born with innate magic? No, but there are other sources in this world. I lived among the dragon shifters for a time. They have tapped into a power that doesn’t come from within. Since we elves rarely associate with other races, or more they won’t associate with us, we can’t learn from them.”

Thane knew the power of dragon shifters all too well. The humans and elves were lucky they preferred the mountains and the gold within rather than conquering lands below. “I hope to remedy that someday.”

“I know you do. It’s why I helped you, young king. Your father has lost his way. Many of us know what he has done, others will remain loyal to him. We need someone to lead and stop his madness.”

“We do, but what news from Pearl? Is Layala alright?”

Leif’s mouth twisted, not the reaction Thane wanted.

“Sire,” Pearl started. “I was able to see Layala yesterday. She has been locked in the tower for nearly a month. They weren’t feeding her or giving her water. I wanted to go to her, but there was no way I could make it without being seen—”

Holding up a hand, Thane said, “I don’t blame you for that. Where is she now?”