Page 106 of To Kill a King
Brooks bent down out of view. When he stood again, he brandished Elessan’s own sword in his hand. Spinning it around so it flashed in the sun, he raised his eyebrow.
“It seems fitting for an elf to die by an elven blade, does it not?”
Elessan groaned. His vision turned black at the edges until the only thing he could see was the flash of the weapon and the red glare from the inquisitor’s magestone.
He coughed up more blood, the spasm sending shooting pain through him.
Brooks’ steps were unhurried, almost lazy, as they approached. “I can feel her, you know. Our errant queen.” He gestured to the gem embedded in his forehead. “Courtesy of my king, I’ll be able to track her no matter how far she runs. And I will kill each and every person who stands between her and me, until I drop her at my king’s feet, so she can fulfill her destiny and help us eliminate all the knife-ears, once and for all.” Holding the sword above Elessan, point-down, he smiled. “Death to the elves!”
He plunged the blade into Elessan’s stomach, pinning him to the ground.
Chapter 22
Aliya
Aliya shook her head. She couldn't believe she'd ever end up back in Westcliff. A new bridge spanned the ravine her magic had gouged just a few weeks ago. The smooth-cut timbers were still shiny and untouched by weather or use.
She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, making sure the hood hid her features. Her ebony arm flashed in her vision. At least this visit, she looked nothing like the last time.
Aliya wore the form of a serving girl, the same one she changed into the first night with Elessan. This time, however, her skin was a shade comparable to his. The dark tone was less common in the human kingdom, but not so rare as to draw unwelcome attention.
The World's End was no longer a pile of cinders. A wooden frame stood proud, though the rough-cut boards for its walls still lay to the side.
She’d need somewhere else to sleep for the night. Taking a deep breath, she wrinkled her face in distaste. By the seven gods! She reeked. After several days in a sweltering prison wagon, followed by traveling at top speed through the forest for over a week, it was expected. So, bath first, then dinner and bed. Tomorrow morning she’d hunt down the mage underground and call in a favor.
Another inn loomed at the end of the block. The Velvet Rose. Aliya bit her lower lip. A handful of well-dressed ladies lingered outside. It appeared more comfortable than any of her previous inns. Something high-class like this should offer hot baths, and decent food.
That probably made this lodging’s rates exorbitant, assuming they even let her in given her current state.
She reached into her cloak, weighing her purse and the coins. One night of luxury wouldn't be so terrible, would it? As a gift to herself for escaping the king's assassins.
Aliya stepped up to the porch, meeting the gaze of several of the women lounging around.
“Hello, sweetheart,” one of them called to her in a husky voice. “Looking for some company?”
“Er, no, thank you,” she said, walking past and heading inside. “Just a bath and bed for the night.”
High-pitched titters followed her.
The owner draped the entrance in opulent fabrics as fine as anything to be found in the castle. Rich reds, purples, and golds overwhelmed her eyes as the scent of orange and jasmine clogged her nose. Other ladies, dressed in silks and satin lounged on various couches around the room. Their gazes latched onto her as she entered, following her with an almost predatory intensity.
This was, without a doubt, the oddest inn she had ever been in. Where was the bar? The food? The patrons?
An attractive young man met her inside. “Looking for something in particular, miss? We have men available, too, if you would prefer?”
What?
“A room for the night, with dinner and a hot bath, please?”
The man blinked a few times and glanced around as though expecting someone else to accompany her. “A room? By yourself? You are aware you cannot provide your own companions here?”
What an odd thing to say. Aliya spread her arms out to the side. “It's just me. Is this not an inn?”
The attendant snapped his mouth shut. His throat bobbed.
A woman dressed too opulently for the weather—she wore peacock feathers in her hair—came up to them. “A room, dear? Of course!” Her voice dripped with honey. She cast a pointed glare at the man. “Room six, please.”
Lips still clamped together, the man handed the woman a key, which she dangled in front of Aliya's face. “Here you go, love. Up the stairs, take a left, last door on the right. The servants will prepare a bath for you. Dinner will be in an hour.”