Page 100 of To Kill a King
Elessan waved the human away and grabbed Zadé’s shoulder, turning her to face him. “Listen to me. Your aunt’s dead.” His throat bobbed and he lowered his voice. “The king sent your bard, Stephen, with a band of assassins and his Arcane Inquisitor to kill everyone in Filathas and kidnap Aliya. There’s more to tell you, but not here.”
Cress? Dead? She snorted. “Not likely. Cressida’s a warrior-mage. She held the Shadow Mountains by herself for a whole week at the beginning o’ the Human War, ‘fore reinforcements got there. No assassin could get the best o’ her.”
Something flickered in Elessan’s eyes.
If only everything would quit splitting in two. Her head hurt. What else did he say? “Princess is gone? You sure she didn’t find some cute elven lad and decide to move on? Lindir seemed pretty into her.”
“Zadé!”
Oh. He was serious, then. She focused on her schooners and sighed.
He grabbed her arm. “If you don’t give a damn about Aliya, you should at least care that they killed your aunt.”
Something inside her heated until she couldn’t breathe. Her vision turned watery as she shrugged free. “Why? That woman ain’t had nothing to do with me in two centuries.”
But she cared, alright. Even if she didn’t want to. Of all her family, Cressida’s refusing to stand up to General Raloven and the others in that officer’s meeting had stung the most. They’d wanted her gone, so she’d left before they could reject her to her face. If her own kin couldn’t be loyal, there was no reason to feel guilty about not reciprocating.
None at all.
She imagined smashing the lump of ice that had settled in her stomach to a thousand pieces and took a hefty swig of ale to wash away the shards.
Elessan ran his fingers across the surface of the bar. “I don’t know what happened to you, or between you and your clan. But this is partially your fault—you’re the one who told the human bard where we were going. Don’t you think it’s time you quit wallowing, and did something? Regain your honor?”
She wrapped her hands around the nearest schooner, staring into the drink, unseeing. She had nothing to reclaim, no coming back from her mistakes. Zadé Brightleaf would never be welcomed back into elven society.
“Please. Help me rescue Aliya. We can avenge Cressida and end this war once and for all.” He swallowed. “I don’t think I can do it alone.”
Zadé’s gaze flicked to Elessan, then back to her schooners. “Princess iz really in trouble?”
He nodded.
“And it’s that human…Stephen?”
“Yes. Along with the Arcane Inquisitor.”
She sighed. “Okay, Elsan. I’ll help you.” She chugged one of her ales. “But first, I need to hit somethin’. Meet me outside in five?”
His body deflated, as though someone cut a puppet’s strings. “Thank you.” He stood, pushing his stool back.
She smiled at his departing back, letting him get to the door before she chucked her empty glass across the room with a “Whoop!” Laughing, she flashed her fangs at the barkeep as she yanked her hood down, putting her semi-pointed ears on full display.
“Bar fight!”
The last bit of golden light disappeared from inside Aliya’s wagon as the sun dipped below the horizon. She pulled her legs close and wrapped her arms around them. Tonight would be chilly.
The longer she stayed in this prison, the less likely Elessan would come rescue her. But even if he’d survived the Whisperer, why would he? He wasn’t beholden to her…he served the elves and had every right to hate the humans.
She put her chin on her knees and sighed. He was so capable, and she made a mess of everything. She stared up at the barred window. Elessan could survive in the forest for years, if he needed to. Assuming he was still alive.
She was being stupid, hoping he’d lived, and that he’d come. There was a reason they said hope was always the last thing to perish. If she sat here waiting for him to rescue her, she’d die, too.
Outside, Brooks and Stephen were setting their camp up for the evening, judging from the clanking and swearing.
Aliya blinked, frowning. Elessan taught her a lot in the weeks they traveled together. She was skilled in lighting fires, and knew which plants and berries were safe to eat. If she didn’t have to hunt or skin anything, she should be okay in the woods, too. At least, for a little while. Long enough to evade her kidnappers.
A loud thud sounded, followed by a string of creative curses.
“Stephen, what’s wrong?” Annabelle’s voice floated across the campsite.