Page 7

Chapter

Four

NIKOLAS

T he woman absorbed my statement with the same air of skepticism she’d worn since we fended off the villagers.

“If you work with luxury goods,” she said, “why did the sheriff want to hang you?”

“Because he’s crooked,” Dain said. “You heard that attacker. The sheriff set us up.”

The woman—and I really needed to get her name—looked between us. “Sounds convenient.”

“The truth usually is,” I said, letting my smile spread. It didn’t seem to work on her, though. But, damn, I wasn’t tired of trying. I’d spent all of forty-five minutes with her, and I needed to see her soften.

Dain continued talking, his low rumble quiet in the hushed forest. I let him go so I could study the elf.

She was delusional if she thought the cloak could hide what she was.

No one with half a brain would mistake her for anything other than a noble from Ishulum.

She was gorgeous with her dark hair and honey-gold eyes flecked with tiny specks that looked like a star had burst inside her irises. Her beauty was otherworldly.

Her mouth was sinful.

She pressed her lips together when she was irritated, and I had to wonder if she was aware of the tell. Probably not, and if I were a better man, I would have told her. But that meant losing the privilege of seeing the pink, plump flesh folded inward while her smooth forehead furrowed.

I shifted my gaze to Dain, who watched her with the same still, coiled focus he used when he meant to steal something—or protect it. He dipped his blue gaze to her mouth. No surprise there. She was stunning, and he was elfkin. Maybe that explained whatever connection was sparking between them.

And there was a connection. I didn’t need magic to know something had happened up on the platform. The question was, how? As an elfkin, Dain’s magic was weak but always present. But the she-elf should have shed her gifts the second she crossed the Covenant.

Still speaking, Dain caught my eye, and we had one of the silent exchanges we’d perfected when we were teenagers surviving on the back alleys and side streets of Saldu.

Are you going to tell her you’re elfkin? I asked with a tilt of my head.

He flicked a look at me. I don’t know.

I rolled my eyes.

Dain stopped mid-sentence. Then he sighed. “I’m elfkin,” he told the woman. “So I know you shouldn’t have any magic on this side of the Covenant. But you do, and I’d like to know why.”

Before she could respond, a ball of light shot from behind a cluster of trees. As Dain and I ducked, the ball halted beside the woman. And it wasn’t a ball.

It was a…man. Sort of. The size of a child, he was made of fire, everything from his hair to his snug-fitting jacket formed out of flame.

He hovered a few inches off the ground, his lower half rounded off and trailing smoke.

Round spectacles perched on his snub of a nose, and his fiery brows drew together as he zipped in front of the woman like he meant to protect her.

“Stay back!” he shouted.

“Wow, you’re fast,” I said, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

The apparition glared at me. “I’m made of light, idiot. I travel faster than you can blink.”

I raised a brow as I leaned forward, peering at his bottom half. “Do you have legs?”

“Who are you?” Dain asked.

“ What are you?” I added, hunching to get a closer look.

“Helios!” the woman exclaimed, stepping around him. She embraced the flaming figure before holding him at arm’s length. “How did you cross the Covenant?”

The little man shook his head. “I don’t know. I was so worried. I raced up and down the barrier. Then I heard shouting, so I took a chance and barreled through.”

She looked thoughtful. “You’re part of me. Maybe that’s why you were able to cross.” She turned to Dain and me. “This is Helios. He’s a sunsprite, and my best friend.”

The little man gave me a smug look, his eyebrows arching above his spectacles.

“Helios?” I asked, amusement tripping through me.

His expression turned irritated. “What?”

“Your name is Helios?”

“Yeah. What of it?”

I scratched my cheek. “Nothing. It’s just…a little on the nose, isn’t it? You know, the sun . Sunsprite. Helios.”

The woman glowered at me. “I named him when I was a child.”

“And how long ago was that?” I couldn’t help asking.

Dain eyed Helios, curiosity on his face. “You don’t burn people when you touch them?”

Helios gave him a dark look. “Not unless I want to.” He shifted his gaze to me. “It’s rude to ask a woman her age.”

“She’s immortal,” I said.

“So?” Helios snapped.

“I’m twenty-six,” the elf said, apparently tired of our bickering.

Relief washed through me. Rumor had it that age tended to make elves lose their moral compass. Death didn’t mean as much to them when they had little reason to fear it. And human lives were short by comparison. Some elves viewed us as insects, our lifespans too brief to care about.

“I’m twenty-eight,” I said. “Dain is thirty.”

Helios pursed his lips. “Congratulations.” He turned to the woman. “Can I talk to you? Alone? ”

They moved a distance away and then engaged in a whispered, agitated conversation.

I looked at Dain. “This is an interesting turn of events.”

“Understatement,” he mumbled, observing the pair with narrowed eyes.

“Watch,” the woman said. She turned from Helios and strode away, her cloak flaring behind her. She got about a dozen steps before she stopped. Her shoulders stiffened, and she swung back around.

Dain winced, then rubbed at the center of his chest.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

Eyes on the woman, he answered in the same tone. “I wish I knew.”

Clearly frustrated, she spun and marched away from us again. Just as quickly, she whirled and hurried back to the sunsprite’s side. “See?” she whispered, darting looks at us. “I can’t resist it.”

I caught Dain’s eye, and we had another silent exchange.

Can we use her? I asked.

He hesitated.

Dain? I pressed.

His chest lifted. Then he gave a slight nod. Maybe. Probably.

Triumph surged through me. I’d told the woman Dain and I were in the business of finding rare things. It wasn’t a lie. The elf was pure magic. Maybe she’d fallen into our hands for a reason. If we played this right, she might be the solution to our most pressing problem.

She crossed the leaves, stopping before Dain and me with a disgruntled-looking Helios at her side.

I spread my hands. “I can’t help but notice you seem, ah, torn about traveling with us.”

Helios huffed. “Because it’s a terrible idea.”

The woman pressed her lips together, and I ignored the way the gesture tightened my groin.

“Take the night to think it over,” I said, risking a wink. “I know I always feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

Helios scowled at me.

I gestured to the sky, where the sun flirted with the horizon. “It’ll be dark soon. As you already know, these woods are full of bad guys.”

The woman snorted. “Like you. You’re both criminals.”

I pressed a hand to my chest. “Dain and I were falsely accused. As you’ve pointed out, we’re in your debt. Let us make it up to you.” When she hesitated, I gestured to Dain. “And Dain is elfkin. He’s on your side.”

She and Helios exchanged a look. Then she met my stare. “Fine. I’ll stay the night. And if either of you try anything, Helios will burn you to ash.”

I bowed. “Fortunately, that won’t be necessary.” I straightened. “Before we find a place to camp, may we know your name?”

She gave Helios another look. “Bel,” she said finally.

“Bel,” I repeated, not believing her for a second. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s almost sunset,” Helios said, drifting forward. The wisp of flame on top of his head flared higher as he stared up at me. “And I don’t trust you.”

Likewise, you little shit.

I smiled. “Fair enough, Helios, but the sun doesn’t lie. If we don’t get moving, we’ll have to make camp in the dark. So I suggest we talk less and walk more.”