Page 38 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

37

FINNLEAH

E lves.

We were surrounded by actual elves. The creatures they straddled were terrifying, but still not as ferocious as the feral elven eyes on us. Somehow, amidst all that, I felt as if for once, I wasn’t ignorant; I wasn’t lost or unaware, I was ahead of them.

Because I understood.

I understood everything. Not just the words, but their glances, their slight snarls. Their calls for their god, their silent curses as they assessed the clear, warrior-like General’s figure.

They were not here for us.

They were here for the same reason we were.

Looking for answers.

They were distressed about the demons, just like we were.

Their pointed ears twitched at every bird call and gust of wind. I counted one after another, watching every elf, ignoring their silver spearheads pointed at my throat, and praying that the General wouldn’t pull some dumb Destroyer shit right now.

There were truly only two ways this could go.

Death and Fate were playing another game.

And I was ready to roll the dice.

I swallowed hard, straightened my back, and then took one step closer to the spears, until their sharp ends were touching my skin, almost breaking it. My previously racing thoughts hushed as I twisted my tongue in the familiar fashion as I spoke Elvish.

“I invoke the rights of every living creature in Elfland and demand to address the King.” I stifled a small victory within me as their eyes flashed with horror and reverence as they listened to me speak their language perfectly, just as they did. They also realized that I understood them.

However, not a single strategy in my mind that I so vicariously ran through, not a single thought, could have prepared me for the words that sounded next.

“Well, trespasser, you are in luck, because the King is here.” The deep voice sounded from behind the animals. The elves opened up the circle as the Elven King strolled towards me.

My original plan to escape as they took us to the Elf-King disintegrated terribly quick.

His perfectly straight, charcoaled hair dipped down almost grazing his knees. He wore exquisite armor with a large, thorn-like crown that was woven into his hair, his needle-like sword sheathed at his side.

I dropped to my knees immediately, bowing my head low, hoping that Gideon would follow suit. He begrudgingly did so, only after a threatening grunt from the large, four-legged creature near him.

The Elf-King’s white, porcelain-like hand extended, pulling my face up in a tight grip. His long, black, claw-like nails scraped my skin, yet didn’t break it.

“What is it you want from the Elf-King, human filth?” he irritably hissed in Elvish.

I raised my eyes, about to answer, but no words came out. My mouth turned completely dry as the color left my face. Not even a thought would conjure in my mind.

Because there, locked with my eyes, were the same turquoise, ocean eyes I had spent seventeen years of my life staring at. Eyes, I could easily recognize among a million others. Eyes that, even now, I so often dreamt of in my sleep.

He bunched his brows, and the sharp features matched the ones etched in my brain.

Like a thunder loudly roaring, realization came crushing down on me, and I knew in that moment.

It wasn’t just the Elf-King standing in front of me.

It was Tuluma’s twin brother.

Her eyes. He had her exact eyes.

I blinked once, then twice. His features were harsher, more masculine, but such resemblance was uncanny.

Tuluma. My mind scattered between the cherished memories, the shattered pieces of my soul, and the ultimate desire to stare at those eyes again, because somehow, the gods granted me this chance to see the pitch-black hair against the porcelain skin and the timeless ocean eyes, as if she was standing here with me.

“Speak , human filth,” he muttered again, releasing his grip on my chin.

Human filth. My chest stiffened, those two words pulling on hidden strings within my heart. I took a long breath, drawing on the somber energy within me, realizing that there was only one thing left to do.

He was Tuluma’s brother.

And I was the closest thing she had to a daughter.

Perhaps there was something more that we had in common.

“Your Majesty, I’d like to play a game with you in exchange for our lives and freedom,” I uttered, a part of me already regretting the words. The King’s eyes curiously narrowed on me.

“You’d like to gamble?” He almost laughed.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Isn’t today the day of Luck, anyway?” I replied after frantically counting the days, relief rolling through me because today was indeed the twenty-sixth day of the month, and elves considered that number, that day, to be the luckiest day of them all.

Elves were also terrible gamblers.

One, two…three . I frantically counted the seconds.

There, he was hooked.

“I shall grant your request, but I will pick the game,” he replied, turning to walk away from me. The notes of panic sliced through my frozen mind, but I nodded obediently, praying to whatever gods were listening to help me. “We shall play chess,” he declared at last.

I purposely widened my eyes and let the panic show on my face, but deep inside, the anxiety settled a bit.

Chess.

Today was indeed a lucky day.

Because at cards? I was shit. But chess?

That, I could bet my life on.