Page 27 of To Kill a King
Her eyes widened. “No!”
He shoved aside the anger that boiled through his blood like crossbow bolts, focusing his attention on the woman in front of him. “Entire mountains collapsed, burying vast cities beneath them. Few survived.” He shook his head. “My parents and I lived because we were already with the sun elves when Aeth Esari fell.”
Aliya bit her lip. “Elessan. I’m…I’m so sorry.” She reached out, but he looked away, so she dropped her hand.
He took a deep breath, locking away the memories of that day. “Why did you run?”
The blood drained from her face. Fixing her gaze on the floor at her feet, she swallowed hard. Her voice was so quiet, he strained to hear at first. “Yesterday was my wedding day. Well, the dress belonged to me, everything else was really for my father.”
“All those white banners in town were for you?” Something had gone terribly wrong. Most women looked forward to their nuptials.
Or, so he’d been told.
She grimaced. “A trade route runs from the southern tip of my father’s lands, over Taldea Pass. From there it’s a quick trip to the port. My father has coveted that passageway for as long as I can remember. Two months ago, he informed me he’d managed to negotiate possession of the whole area in exchange for my marriage. He said I should be happy, because I’d be marrying well above my station.”
Elessan frowned. “Were you?”
“Happy? No. I was more nervous about having to marry someone I’d never met. Being the adopted daughter, I always knew I was going to be bartered for something he wanted, so it was no surprise.”
“Adopted?”
“The Larimars are human. I’m not. There’s no magic in their bloodline, nor in my father’s. No matter how you look at it, I’m clearly not theirs. I don’t know the identity of my real parents, or how I ended up where I did. They claimed me, raised me in a comfortable lifestyle and treated me well enough.”
Aliya swallowed. “We came to Lion’s Grove a week ago, for the wedding festivities. I met my husband-to-be, King Malkov. From the start, something was troubling about him.” She glanced at him, meeting his eyes before looking away.
He choked on his ale.
Valek! The human queen?
His knees buckled as the floor dropped out from under him and the room wobbled dangerously. The human’s monarch was here! Imagine the possibilities. They could use her to destroy Malkov’s realm, and the humans, once and for all.
His people would finally have their revenge. Then he’d be done wandering this wretched kingdom doing the sun elf king’s dirty work. He could go home, see his mother, and find a profession he wouldn’t be ashamed of.
But he’d have to explain to Princess Tsara and her father how as their spy he missed something as big as a royal wedding. And he’d never be able to look his mother in the eyes if he allowed her friend’s descendent to be used in such a way. Even if it meant justice for her murdered mate.
Aliya was still talking. With an effort, Elessan calmed his thoughts and turned his attention back to her.
“It’s hard to describe,” she said, “but I felt like someone splashed gold paint over rotten wood. Objects below the surface didn’t reflect the shiny exterior. Even his attendants seemed off.
“But I trusted my father, and that he would have thoroughly investigated any match. So, I went through with the wedding. Afterward, as we were on our way to the reception, a servant found me. She slipped me a note and whispered that the king was going to steal my magic that night, to advance the war effort somehow.” She shrugged. “I didn’t believe her. Until I was escorted from the party before the feast started and locked in my chambers, under armed guard. By then, it was too late.”
He swore beneath his breath. “Valek.”
She raised an eyebrow at his interruption.
Did she not know what the word meant? Her tutors mustn’t have taught her the more colorful aspects of Elven.
She squeezed her empty mug, her fingers turning white. “My father told me this was the sacrifice I needed to make to erase his debts and preserve our family. He didn’t care if I lived or died.” Her voice trailed off as she studied her glass. “Um, is there any more ale?”
“I can go downstairs and get more if you’d like?”
She deflated and shook her head. “No, that’s okay.”
He bit his lip as his gut twisted at the choice looming before him. “You’re special, Aliya. And I do see how that could be exploited. But the gift is yours. Protect it.” He handed her the bowl of stew the inn offered for dinner.
Once they both finished their food, he drew a sword. Keeping an eye on her, he twirled it in the twilight, flashing the designs on the blade. He added the second. “Is it your turn or mine? If we’re not being polite anymore, how old are you?”
He spun the weapons as she sat, entranced. She almost missed his query. “What? Me? I’m eighteen. And that’s not impolite—I asked you your age first.” A wicked, mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “If you are looking for an impertinent question, how about this? You said you had no family of your own and sounded sad. Why?”