Page 20 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

The protector tilted his head and offered his hand, keeping his movements slow, as though careful not to frighten her.

Gentle. He had a gentle nature. She imagined his hands were gloved.

The link imbued on the weapons tugged at her, willing her to accept.

Carefully, she placed her hand in his, surprised at how real he felt.

Despite the age sitting in his shadows, a flicker of warmth burned beneath.

The protector pulled her up with ease and supported her waist when she wobbled on her feet.

Elisara pulled back at the foreign touch.

Kazaar was the only person who could touch her.

The protector bowed his head in understanding and gestured with his hand to cross the onyx and marble floor.

None of the army made to follow them. He did not spare a glance at the two thrones as they walked between them, approaching the black waterfall.

He pointed at it, and she understood his request. With a wave of her hand, the waterfall parted, revealing the hidden corridor.

The army moved again when Elisara glanced back, mingling and pausing before each other, as though having silent discussions.

She tilted her head, wondering if they could communicate and did so now, acknowledging there was no current duty.

A gentle touch of shadow captured her attention, and she turned back around as only a wisp from his arm reached out to her.

He hadn’t touched her; he understood not to.

Elisara nodded and followed him into the hidden room.

It was the same as when Elisara and Kazaar were last there.

The thick white blankets remained strewn across the bed from where neither of them had thought to make it, assuming nobody would ever use it again.

Paper no longer littered the writing desk after the pair had taken them all.

Cushions remained scattered before the unlit fireplace, which she set alight with a single glance, promptly warming the smaller space.

Elisara looked at the tapestry hiding the entryway to where a room of statues would greet her.

She ground her teeth at the reminder of the gods and Sitara’s statue.

She did not wish to see them again. What had they done for her?

She inspected the tapestry. Last time, she had been too focused on following Kazaar to pay it any attention.

It was almost as dark as the onyx clashing against marble on the floor, but on closer inspection, it was the deepest dusk blue—a scattering of stars woven into the night sky.

Below it were two thrones: a sun engraving on one, and a moon on the other.

Something was scattered across the thrones, drifting into the night, but she could not discern what.

It reminded her of the stardust on the throne room floor with Sitara.

It was rather ominous for a bedroom piece.

Threads of shadows trailed Elisara, who twisted to face the room.

The protector stood by the entryway, watching.

He was taller and broader than the other shadows, moving with purpose and command.

Perhaps he once had held a higher station in life than the others trapped in the Sword of Souls.

When he gestured to the bed, Elisara narrowed her eyes.

He simply bowed his head and turned, watching the entry to the room that was now apparently hers.

Elisara assessed him as she slowly slid under the covers, pulling the thick blankets to her chin.

Curling herself into a ball, Elisara tried to fall asleep while watching the fire, imagining she could see herself and Kazaar dancing amongst the flames.

** *

Slowly, Elisara opened her eyes. She blinked several times at the embers in the fireplace. Footsteps sounded over the floor, and she instantly shifted, backing up against the headboard and pulling the dagger from the inside of her boot. Elisara waved it at the man approaching from the doorway.

“I cannot hurt you here, nor can you hurt me.” His voice was smooth, and she detected no ill manner in his tone.

“You are still sleeping. This is one of the few places I can talk with you as… myself.” His voice trailed off, and he winced.

Elisara narrowed her eyes, keeping her dagger high.

“You are wise to be cautious, especially as you cannot normally see our faces.” He attempted a reassuring smile, but Elisara was not swayed by it.

“I have protected you in the real world and will continue to do so here.” As he bowed his head, Elisara’s hold on the dagger wavered.

Slowly, she lowered her hand. It was him, the shadowed man who had immediately fought by her side in the second battle and kept Caligh away.

But why was he so intent on protecting her? She was nothing to this man.

Elisara had not even considered how he might look beneath his shadows.

He wore loose black trousers tucked into dark brown leather boots with mud-caked soles.

A loose tan jacket partly concealed his white linen shirt.

He wore no set colours—no clear indication of his allegiance to a realm.

There was nothing significant about his clothing at all, but his features told another story.

He looked as though he had lived through a thousand epic adventures.

His skin was tanned, except for the pale skin beneath his collar.

Scars littered his arms, and his hands were calloused.

A light black stubble, seemingly well-maintained, concealed his firm jaw, and amber ringed his dark eyes, just like those on Osiris and Arik, a mark he was bound to the Sword of Souls.

Despite their shade, there was no darkness in them.

Crinkles formed around his eyes, and Elisara could read the jokes he likely told in amongst the lines.

His black hair looked like it had once been short but was growing out, flopping to the side as he combed his fingers through it and scratched the back of his neck, glancing at her through his lashes.

He was nervous. He was not the person Elisara had expected—the man who so selflessly defended her and stood by her side.

She had expected a soldier, or royalty, but this man seemed…

normal. Laughter erupted from behind him in the throne room, disrupting her analysis and making her jump.

“I apologise, your Majesty. They have not had the opportunity to socialise in so long. I can ask them to lower their voices?” said the protector.

“They?” Elisara swallowed, realising she had commanded real people into war for revenge.

The laughter filtered through again. Human—they were all humans once, with lives and families, and now they were stuck in a sword to do whatever she instructed.

Perhaps Sadira had been right about finding a way to free them. Her protector nodded with a smile.

“They are your army. You granted them some life when you released them from the sword, though it is certainly a saddened existence. When you are awake, they must watch silently as shadows, but when you slumber, you give them the greatest gift.” He gestured to the chair by the desk in a silent request to sit. Elisara nodded.

“They awaken in their real bodies when I sleep?” she asked, and his smile faltered.

“Unfortunately, we do not have access to our corporeal bodies in the waking world. Still, we are but walking shadows, but here—” He gestured around himself. “Here, our minds come alive again.”

Elisara nodded slowly. “And you are?”

“Sallos, your Majesty. I am yours to command.” He smiled, watching her through his lashes. “I have been waiting an eternity to speak with you. ”