Page 11 of To Kill a King
“You’re a skilled archer. You were smart to not kill my father’s guards.” Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her cloak tight and leaned her head against the rock behind her. She closed her eyelids halfway but kept a wary eye on him. “And thank you for helping me escape.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, pulling his pack from his shoulders and putting it down.
She glared at his backpack, sitting innocuously on the ground.
He studied the campsite, such as it was. “I’ll be back.” Putting one arm through his bow, he stood and strode into the night.
Dry firewood wasn’t as plentiful in the spring as in high summer, but anyone with an ounce of woodcraft knowledge still knew where to find some. His mother owed Aliya’s…he paused, mentally counting off human generations…great-great-grandfather a life debt from the beginning of the Human War. He’d stumbled upon a chance to repay the century-old favor, then he could get on with what he’d been sent to do, and get the elven royals off his back. He added another branch to the bundle he carried.
He’d kill to know what his mother would make of her old friend’s great-great-granddaughter. Aliya was an intriguing paradox—clearly she didn’t have the same elven sympathies as her ancestor, yet she’d still gone to the effort to become fluent in his language.
Perhaps there was hope for her, yet.
He shook his head. How would the sun elves react if he allowed himself to be delayed? Princess Tsara’s temper, and lack of patience, were legendary. He was lucky she had a soft spot for him. Invasion plans and war strategy, however, would not be so easily swayed. Even for a potential high-placed informant.
He frowned as he made his way back to “camp.”
Aliya’s eyes bored into him as he put down the armful of firewood and started building the fire into something that would keep them both warm tonight.
He smiled as he pretended to ignore Aliya’s covert surveillance. He focused on the flames. This time, when he peeked from the corner of his eye, she was staring at his hands, watching him stack the wood.
“I saw the symbol on your pack. The one with the mountain and swords etched into it. What does the design mean?” Her voice was hesitant. She still didn’t trust him, and likely never would.
That was probably wise, considering their races had been at war for nearly two centuries. Elessan paused his work and turned his attention to the medallion she indicated. His family crest. “What do you think it means?”
She licked her lips and reached under her cloak, pulling out a matching emblem on a silver chain around her neck. “My mother told me it meant friendship.”
He bit his tongue to hold back his grin as his mother’s old necklace dangled from her fingers. That explained her sudden lack of hostility.
“And so it does.” At least, for the Larimars. “Shouldn’t that pendant belong to your father?”
Her expression blanked as she shook her head. “The Larimar title goes through my mother’s line. Father’s always been,” she paused, “upwardly mobile. His parents were fishmongers. Somehow, he convinced my mother to marry him, and he became Baron.”
Elessan frowned as he chewed the inside of his cheek and made a mental note. Aliya’s father was someone the elves should be watching more closely.
Her throat bobbed. “Can I ask you something? Not to sound ungrateful, but…why are you helping me? I told you I can’t offer any reward. I don’t have access to my family’s coffers.” She crossed her arms. “Not to mention we’ve been at war for centuries.”
Finished with the fire, Elessan lay back and stared up at the stars. He remained silent for a long moment as he formulated his response. “I know what it’s like to run from one’s home. As a mage, perhaps you have ample reason to flee yours, too, if those guards were willing to go through what they did.”
Aliya flinched. “Do you think they’re all right? I didn’t…I’ve never done a spell like that before. I panicked, and the magic just spilled out.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “My father’s men are good people. I didn’t mean to hurt them, just to get away.”
Elessan frowned, resisting the urge to scoot away. “Can you not control your power?” That didn’t bode well, for her, or anyone in her proximity.
She winced, like she’d been struck. “No. Not always.”
He forced a chuckle and made a deliberate show of relaxing. “I best not upset you then. Magecraft isn’t my strong suit, so I have no right to judge.”
Her shoulders dropped, though she still watched him with suspicion. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she asked, “Can you, maybe, teach me how to light a fire?”
Sitting up, he eyed her, arching an eyebrow and accepted the olive branch for what it was. “I suppose I could.”
She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. He didn’t notice before, but the color in her gray irises moved, like smoke trapped under glass. Perhaps some aspect of her magic.
She licked her lips. “I’m sorry for any problems I’ve caused you.”
“It is no large inconvenience to me. It would pain my mother to no end if I were to leave a damsel in distress to be eaten by wild animals or starve to death.” If said damsel was a Larimar. “I’ll show you a few things, like how to hunt for your own food.” He’d just have to convince the sun elves’ royals his delay was unavoidable and curse the consequences.
“Hunting,” Aliya said, half to herself, blinking as if he’d just hit her on the back of the head with a wooden beam. “Yes, I think I could learn that.”