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R yton stared up at his captors. His head felt full of seaweed, and every breath was fresh torture. But now that the deed was done, now that he’d betrayed his queen, his heart was…

It was twisted.

Grystark would’ve done the same as Ryton. There was no way Gry would’ve let Astraea treat this young human the way she had. No matter what the human had done. It had been too cruel.

Right? Ryton wanted so badly to believe it.

And Gry would’ve killed Astraea for sending the army into that tunnel to die if he hadn’t been struck down himself. Death during war was one thing, but dying for the tyrant they followed, no, he wouldn’t have agreed to that, not when he left a grieving Lilia.

Ryton gripped the rough growth that sprouted from the ground, his knuckles going white and his jaw aching. He’d been tortured at the hand of his queen. He’d lost his only friend.

Sadness welled up through his chest, spilling over his ribs and pulling him to the earth again. He lay there, defeated in every way one could be beaten. All was lost to him. Nothing mattered. He had stopped one creature’s torture only to throw his entire kynd into jeopardy.

The elves, all looking wan save the tallest, the one they were now calling king, approached Ryton’s new cage of golden threads.

“I am Arcturus.” The Elven King’s voice rumbled like distant thunder, and magic hummed around him, violet and golden swirls of air magic that put Ryton on edge.

This creature was in his element. Ryton, of course, was far from it.

They could kill him so easily, so quickly.

“I know we have been enemies in the past, but the Earth Queen tells me you made her rescue possible. I am endlessly grateful, although I’m guessing you don’t care about my thanks. ”

The Earth Queen—they called her Vahly—leaned forward and stared into Ryton’s eyes.

She smelled strongly of ancient power, a counter to Astraea’s scent and foul to his gills.

“Thank you, General Ryton. I don’t understand why you did what you did, but truly, thank you.

Now, we have a little problem. I’m sure you’d like to return to your realm, but we can’t release you to fight us again.

We are left with the problem of what to do with you. ”

“Just kill me.” Ryton took a wheezing breath, the beast on his upper back clicking its pincers. “This thing will do it anyway, in its time. And I think I’d rather not wait for that experience.”

Vahly pursed her lips and raised both of her light eyebrows.

“Don’t blame you. But…” She looked to Arcturus, who tilted his head and held out a hand toward Ryton.

They seemed to have some sort of unspoken communication.

“We can’t kill you.” She stood, brushing off her trousers and then starting to braid her hair.

“Agreed,” Arcturus said, waving the other elves over. They reached into the air magic cage and touched Ryton’s wounds.

Ryton froze as they whispered in elvish and a warmth traveled up his legs, into his torso, along his arms, and over his head. A wave of relief crashed over him, and he stretched out on the smelly ground as the magic barriers disappeared.

The silver-haired elf, Rigel, perhaps, snagged Ryton’s dagger. Ryton wore no other weapons they needed to worry about. His spear was long gone. Ryton winced. Who was he now without Gry, without Astraea, without his magic?

Dragging himself to standing, he held out his hands. “If you’re going to keep me alive, then will you listen to my thoughts about our kynds and this world?”

Vahly was already walking up a winding path. She waved at everyone to move on. “Fine. But we have to get to the Jade palace and find some dragons to carry us to the Lapis quickly. Before your queen comes for us again.”

Ryton struggled to keep up with the elves. The female, Ursae, followed him, nudging his steps with blasts of air magic that made it easier for him to walk quickly. The magic felt like a strong current sweeping underfoot. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He cleared his throat. He would bare all.

Just give them his truth. He had no more energy or will for deceit or strategy.

Not now with Gry’s death still punching his chest every other heartbeat.

“Astraea will be incensed when she realizes both you and I are gone. She will strike again, and it’s a solid guess that she’ll go for your Lapis. ”

Vahly glanced over her shoulder. “She questioned me about where Matriarch Amona sleeps in the palace.” The Earth Queen’s lip curled. “Of course, I lied, but I don’t think Astraea expected the truth. She wanted to frighten me. It was only more torture.”

“But I beg of you,” Ryton said, his throat burning, “to consider the way in which you fight the sea. I want to hate you, Earth Queen, but I can’t seem to manage it.”

Arcturus chuckled, though the sound still held the gravity of grief. He had to be low knowing that his kynd was all but gone. Ryton shuddered. The sea kynd could lose this war, and then Ryton would know the feeling too, if the evil thing on his back let him live to see it.

“What I mean is, not all of the sea kynd are as foul as you might believe.” Nausea pushed against Ryton’s senses, and he had to stop and struggle through three full breaths before they could continue.

This wretched place. How were they comfortable here?

It seemed impossible. He swallowed roughly and continued, Lilia and the scout Echo specifically on his mind, “I thought all of land kynd were foul. But I was wrong. I ask only that if there comes a point in the battles ahead in which you can somehow spare a portion of the ocean for my kynd, please consider it. There is a female. The widow…is that the correct word for a grieving mate?”

“Yes,” Ursae croaked out behind him.

Rigel spun and glared. “Ursae. King Mattin was not your mate.”

The female elf raised her pointed chin. “Not in name but in deed. I know he was bent, but I loved him, and he loved me.”

“He used you,” Rigel snapped. “Canopus—”

Arcturus held out a hand. “She knows her own business, Rigel. Let it go.”

Ryton’s stomach lurched, and he vomited into the dry dirt.

If they didn’t kill him, this place would do the job well enough.

With no more energy for talking, he walked in silence until the sun blessedly diminished in power and the cored hillside that had to be the Jade dragon palace emerged from a row of jagged, gray trees.

It was mind-blowing that he was here, walking into the heart of his kynd’s most feared enemy.

Perhaps the Jades weren’t as crafty as the vile Lapis, and Ryton didn’t hold exactly the same hatred toward Matriarch Eux as he did Matriarch Amona, but the Jade palace remained horrifying.

He was out of his element. Weakened by the black beast’s magic that used to make him stronger.

Would the Jades even listen to Vahly long enough to hear why Ryton was there and not bleeding out on the ground?

Jades struck first and asked questions later.

But there was little he could do about it.

He had to follow Vahly into the dark and pitted cave they called a palace, or else the elf at his back would kill him immediately, before he’d had time to figure out what his new plan needed to be and what he had to live for.

He wanted that time, he realized belatedly. He wasn’t yet ready to give up on life.

But he doubted the Jades cared much for his inner philosophical debate.

Matriarch Eux would most likely burn him alive on sight.