Page 19 of To Kill a King

Elessan stopped digging through his pack and gaped at her. He met her eyes and closed his mouth with an audible snap. After a deep breath, he said, “I’m sorry. I thought you were being cheeky. That amount of money could buy us food and lodging for a month. Two silvers should be plenty. I’ll bring you the change.” He paused as he set a round-cut polished moonstone on the table and rubbed his hand over it once. “You probably shouldn’t let anyone know you have so much coin on you.”

She frowned. Really? Five gold was a lot? A single ball gown cost three times that.

He glanced around the room. “I know this isn’t ideal. I’ll give you your privacy while I go out. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. You’ll be okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Go do what you need to do.” If she knew half what he did about surviving in the wilds, she’d stay there and avoid coming into town at all. Surely the forest had enough supplies to meet his needs?

Handing her his flint and steel, he gestured toward the exit with his thumb. “Jam these underneath the door after I leave.” His eyes flicked to her. “Just in case the man downstairs gets any untoward ideas.”

Aliya’s pulse skipped a beat. Swallowing past a suddenly dry throat, she nodded.

He stared at his backpack for several heartbeats, patting the swords on his hips. Undoing the intricate knot, he pulled out a dagger. “Here, keep this, too.”

Her heart leaped into her throat as her hand tightened around the hilt. She held it to her chest. “Thank you.”

With a nod, he closed the door softly behind him.

She followed, jamming the rocks beneath the door as he’d directed.

Once his footsteps faded, she studied the weapon he’d given her. The design emblazoned on the sheath matched the medallion on his backpack. Gingerly, she slid it out of its scabbard. About a foot long, the blade was covered in delicate flowing patterns, and the metal reflected blue when she flashed it toward the light. An elven dagger. Weapons forged by the elves never dulled or rusted. This was likely worth more than her father made in half a season.

Maybe he’d let her keep it? Something like this would be useful when she was on her own, at the Mage College. Just in case the king came looking for her.

The handle was wrapped with worn leather, with imprints from Elessan’s hand. Placing her fingers in the same grooves, she swung the dagger back and forth. Adding her other hand to the grip, she thrust forward as though she were shoving the steel through Malkov’s gut. The sharp edge would slide between his ribs nicely. Maybe she’d even feel a pop as it pierced his heart.

She sat on the bed and stared at the weapon in her lap. It would be beyond amazing if Malkov died, and she could be free to live her life, magic and all. She scoffed. As if the king’s mage-detecting tattoo would let her near him with anything like this, even if she had any clue how to handle it.

She ran her hands over the broad side of the blade, tracing the etched patterns. The metal felt cool and smooth.

Ouch! She put her thumb in her mouth and sucked. Surprise, surprise, the edges were sharp. Cramming the dagger back in its sheath, she set it beside her on the bed.

Aliya bit back a sudden yawn. All the stress and the unusual amount of walking today were catching up with her. She folded her cloak into a pillow and laid down, letting exhaustion take her.

Chapter 5

Elessan

The sun had dropped two finger-widths in the sky as Elessan crouched on the edge of the roof, studying the sentry posted outside the storeroom door. A breeze ruffled his cloak, sending his scent directly toward the man.

But since the guard was a human, his nose was worthless.

Elessan relaxed and pushed a few wayward strands of hair from his face.

The lookout leaned against the support beam, chewing on a stalk of wheat.

Elessan narrowed his eyes and snorted in disgust. Humans were stupid to waste what grain they had in such a way, even if the crop was immature and covered in protein. The lookout was not very focused on his task, which only made Elessan’s job easier.

But the man didn’t look like a mage, either. It was possible his informant had gotten his information wrong, though the graffiti in town indicated the presence of a mage somewhere nearby.

So, what was the sentry? Magic user, or lazy soldier? He’d kill to have access to a magestone like Malkov’s Arcane Inquisitor. The Mage Underground had been persecuted for so long, they’d become far too cautious for the elven royals to easily contact.

But the Mage Underground were crucial allies if the sun elves were going to be successful in removing the Cerel family from power. And he had no idea how numerous they actually were.

The wheat drooped lower in the human’s mouth as his muscles relaxed.

Two figures approached, a muscular man dressed as a farmer and a petite girl with frizzy hair that her braid only just managed to control.

“Ahoy, Therolis!” The farmer extended a hand and waved at the sentry, who straightened and spit the stalk onto the ground.