Page 39 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

38

FINNLEAH

I looked up at the cold stars, barely flickering high above me in the night sky. The chilly air prickled my skin, and I wondered. I wondered how wrong I could have been about my maid. Everything I had guessed over the years, everything I had assumed about her past, was wrong.

The few elven soldiers carried out a small table with two chairs to the center.

I glanced behind me to see Gideon, his eyes viciously scouting the camp. His face was blank, without a single emotion, but those eyes, gods, they were ready to devour them all.

My chest tightened, aware that he had no reason to listen to me; I endangered us both, I knew that. He knew that, and still, he bent the knee for me. He kneeled in front of the Elf-King because I asked him to trust me. I couldn’t resist gazing over at him once more. This time, his eyes caught mine, silently asking the same question.

Are you okay?

Yes. I lowered my head in a tiny nod. He blinked in relief.

A little shiver ran through my body from his encompassing gaze, but I returned my eyes to the few curious elves gathered around us now; my mind realizing, at last, that I wasn’t about to gamble our lives…but theirs instead.

The Elf-King took a seat first, motioning for me to sit across from him in a similar chair, and I obeyed. He then pulled out a large, exquisitely engraved board with red and black square marks and black and white carved pieces. It was a work of art. Each piece was meticulously cut from bone, some bigger, some smaller. He started placing the white pieces on the board, motioning for me to do the same with the black.

She would’ve loved this set. So magnificent; spectacular.

Whenever Tuluma and I played, we had only ever used rocks, and a few tiny, wooden pieces. We never even had a permanent board, instead we used chalk, or if we didn’t have that, we just marked it in the dirt.

“You know how to play?” The King pierced me with his eyes as I slowly put pieces down, each one of them feeling heavy in my hands.

“I…a bit,” I supposed.

“You speak the language, know our traditions, and play our games. One begs the question of how?” he asked suspiciously.

“I grew up with an elven maid who taught me, Your Majesty.” His long, sharp nose crinkled with dissatisfaction, clearly not liking my answer.

I avoided looking at him, not because he was the King, but because each time I did, a part of me ached with agony remembering that I’d never see Tuluma again.

“One game. Two lives. Let the Luck sway your odds.” An elf refereeing our game motioned the start.

“Let’s hope your maid knew what she was doing,” the Elf-King hissed as he moved the first piece on the board.

She did , I wanted to say, but instead, I moved a similar piece into a new square.

There was a certain level of restlessness in the air, and I couldn’t stop myself from nervously clenching my clammy hands. My mind was overheating as I imagined every single possible move available to me. A large pile of black and white pieces discarded from over an hour of play warningly laid on the side of the board, indicating the undoubtedly approaching ending. The chilly night now felt blazing hot, my cheeks burning red while cold sweat ran down my back.

The Elf-King scoffed, taking another of my pieces off the board, and my heart raced at unspeakable speeds within my chest.

“Check,” he declared. Satisfaction ran through his cold features as he threatened my last few standing pieces.

A tension headache was making my vision blur. The few torches lit around us were casting shadows on the board, not helping my diminishing focus.

It’s almost over, I promised myself. Then my sweaty hand executed a move that I’d seen Tuluma make so many times, I could remember it even in my sleep.

It was rather poetic, sacrificing the queen, the most valuable piece, just like Tuluma sacrificed herself for me.

“Foolish human.” He chuckled, eagerly taking my queen without a second thought, quickly making his next move. The surrounding elves cheered him on. But I dared to raise my eyes at the King, hoping that he’d see, that he’d understand, as I moved another piece.

His face snapped, changing from one of premature victory to one of anger-filled shock.

There was only one move left. His turquoise eyes darted from the board back to me. Again, and again. But there was nothing left to do; no moves on his part that could save him now. So, he moved his king one last time. I took a long breath, letting it out slowly, as I made my last move.

“Check mate, Your Majesty,” I said tranquilly. There wasn’t a feeling of victory within me, because in some twisted way of Fate, this felt as if it was the one last game I had wished I played with Tuluma.

I sat there in silence as the King and his referee stared at the board, at the last few pieces still standing.

“It seems you’ve somehow won, human filth...” the Elf-King finally jeered. “What is it that you are doing in the Elf Lands, human?” he snarled at me.

“Same as you, Your Majesty, simply looking for answers,” I replied honestly. He picked up the sacrificed queen beside the board, glaring at it as he twisted it with his fingers.

“I was told to come here to find my sister.” He put the piece down, narrowing his turquoise eyes at me. “My father, the previous Elf King, exiled her over a hundred years ago. Now that he is gone, and I am the King, I plan to reprieve the order.”

Exiled by her father. I winced from that truth.

“You say you were raised by an elven maid…who was your maid , human?” he asked as the suspicion in his eyes grew heavy.

My heart ached, and I wanted to tell him. But if I were to tell them that Tuluma, their princess and his twin-sister was killed by Destroyers, that she died for me, he’d wage a war.

So, I told him the only thing I could.

“I am sorry to hear that, Your Majesty, my maid was no princess, but she was the most fearless, courageous, intelligent, and devoted elf I have ever met. She loved the elves till her very last breath, and she taught me how to love them too,” I replied, swallowing the heavy lump stuck in my throat.

“She is gone then?” he asked solemnly.

“Yes. Almost six years ago,” I replied, my voice laced with sorrow. His ocean eyes shattered with grief.

“You’ve won your match, human. Now leave. You have until dawn to be gone from Elfland. If you are still here by tomorrow, we shall hunt you down and kill you,” the King commanded, storming back into the shadows, his charcoal hair wavering in his step.

The flood of emotions choked me from within, but I pushed past it, assertively marching up to the silent General standing behind me. Without a word, I grabbed his hand and led him away from the Elves, deep into the jungle.

My breaths were uneven, and my hand must have been shaking because the General squeezed it tighter, reassuringly, soon taking the lead through the dark rainforest. I wasn’t sure how he knew where we were going, because our compass was broken. But a part of me didn’t even care as I held on to his hand tightly and blindly followed his footsteps, feeling feverish and numb. The dark mysteries that I tried to solve for so long now laid open and clear. The muddled water stilled as the sand settled.

Tuluma was a princess. An actual Elvish princess.

She starved and she scavenged for food with a human babe. She was hated, spat on, cursed, and endured so many other things she attempted to hide from my child’s eye.

And all this time, she had a brother that loved her, that was going to save her, bring her back to the lands she so deeply cared for; to her home she often dreamed of.

Only to be six years too late.

A minute in the Elven timeline.

That was the sad part about timing—it was never on our side.