Page 111 of To Kill a King

Hopefully, no one here was a spy for Malkov. Otherwise, she’d just given up any benefit of surprise. Her eyes roamed over the crowd before once more landing on Jalius. She’d have to trust he’d suitably vetted the attendees. “If you’re tired of living in the shadows, join me. You can only improve your station, and the position of every mage in this realm. I await your answer.” She pinned Jalius with a hard stare and dropped her voice. “And I expect you to uphold your end of our bargain.”

The gnome nodded. “You’ll have our response tomorrow.”

One of the hardest things she’d ever done was to turn her back on the cavern and walk out the way she came. No one followed her.

Chapter 23

Elessan

Elessan’s head slammed against a hard surface as the world jostled. He opened his eyes with a groan. The pounding between his temples became knives as sunlight flooded his vision. He lifted his arm to shield his face, only to cause a whole new explosion of pain across his chest and in his shoulder joint.

By Abaddon…

He was so thirsty. His cracked lips split as he opened his mouth. Hopefully Brooks intended to give him some water soon…it must be days since he drank anything.

Wheels creaked around him as wooden planks slammed against his head again. He was in a wagon, lying on the floor while the driver steered them over what was undoubtedly the road with the deepest ruts in the realm.

He took a deep breath. Aliya’s faint floral scent filled his nostrils.

Aliya!

He opened his eyes and fought to sit up. “Agh!” Fire exploded from his stomach.

His head smashed back into the floor, sending a burst of light across his vision.

Valek. Aliya wasn’t here. The windows were up near the roof and covered in bars. This had to be the prison transport Brooks had been hauling her in. Which meant he was now the Arcane Inquisitor’s prisoner.

What had happened to Zadé? Hopefully she was alive, and Brooks had let her be.

As long as he was dreaming, he’d like one million gold crowns and Aliya’s ability to shapeshift. He sighed.

The first thing to do was take stock of his injuries. Then figure out an escape plan.

Taking two deep breaths, he centered himself. His collarbone stung from the cut he’d received. His right shoulder ached, like it had been dislocated at one point. Rotating the joint, he frowned. Sore yes, but not currently out of place. His stomach…

Carefully poking and prodding, he found the edges of the gaping hole the sword had torn when Brooks stabbed him. The wound had been sutured together in what felt like a relatively straight line.

Interesting. His captors would hardly bother with that…unless the purpose was to keep him alive long enough to deliver him to Malkov.

He curled his fingers into fists. He’d kill himself before he gave the human king the satisfaction of doing so. He knew too much, was too valuable to be tortured, or it could undo all the elves had achieved in the war.

He couldn’t sit up. At least, not without risking tearing his stitches and falling unconscious from pain. But he needed to come up with a plan to escape, and that started with figuring out where he was and how long he’d been out.

Rolling onto his stomach with a suppressed groan, he raised himself onto his hands and shifted his legs until he was on all fours.

The transport shook again, nearly upending his balance. He grunted as his muscles protested.

Grabbing the bench with one hand, he heaved himself to his knees and then on to his feet.

Clinging to the bars, he peeked through to get his first glimpse of the front of the wagon.

His legs went weak.

“Zadé?”

The moon elf spun around in the driver’s seat, a smile bursting across her face. “Elsan! Iz about darned time yeh woke up. I was startin’ ta think yeh were a goner!” She pulled back on the reins, bringing them to a halt.

“You threw me back here?”