Page 28 of To Kill a King

Font Size:

Page 28 of To Kill a King

Elessan rotated the blades again, considering his answer. Suddenly, the world shuddered, sending him stumbling into the stool at the table. A quick glance showed her brow wrinkled in concern. She wouldn’t have noticed the tremor, just his misstep. Peeking outside, he stared at the darkening sky.

His heart thudded against his ribs.

He needed to get out of here. This could be another opportunity to earn her trust.

“My race is long-lived,” he answered, distracted. “Too long. And perhaps I haven’t met the right person yet.” He slid both swords into their sheaths. “Can you keep a secret?”

Too polite to mention the stumble, she rolled her eyes. “I’m a shapeshifter who’s spent her entire life among humans. Of course I can.”

He tossed her the cloak he’d stolen from the market. “Then shift. We need to go back into the forest.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Aliya hesitated before she swung the black fur-lined fabric around her shoulders. “Why?”

“You’ll see.”

While she faced the other way, he unbuckled his armor and strapped the blades to his hips. When he turned back, she was the nondescript girl she resembled when they’d first arrived. She followed him as he slunk out of the now-bustling inn and into the woods, back the way they’d come.

He needed to get away from people as quickly as possible before he was forced to justify something he had no explanation for. Even after two centuries.

Away from the lights from the village, she pulled the woolen cloak tight and peered at him from the corner of her eyes. “Are you not chilly?”

The sky was darkening overhead, but no storm clouds rolled in. Even the full moon disappeared. He almost missed her question. “No, not tonight.” His blood rushed in his ears, as if his pulse said hurry, hurry, hurry.

He broke into a jog.

“Elessan?” Aliya’s voice drifted to him from several feet behind. “I can’t see anything.”

The heavens were completely black now, like some god had dropped a velvet blanket over the world. For all he knew, that was exactly what was happening.

Chapter 8

Aliya

“Everything’s okay, Aliya.” His voice drifted from somewhere in front of her.

She tugged the cloak tighter around her neck. The soft fur lining did little to ease the sudden chill in her bones. It shouldn’t have gotten dark so quickly. Sunset wasn’t for another hour yet.

As she stumbled forward, a faint glimmer appeared ahead. Letting the glow guide her, she made her way to a break in the trees.

Elessan stood, his tunic discarded at his feet. His skin gleamed, now pitch-black. Small points of light, nebulae and stars, drifted across the plains and valleys of his body. The patterns glowed, casting a pale phosphorescence throughout the clearing.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she ran several steps toward him. “Elessan!” He didn’t appear concerned. In fact, for someone standing half-naked in the woods, he was remarkably calm. “Elessan?” Her hand reached out on its own accord to touch, but she pulled back at the last moment, face flushing at the liberty she’d been about to take. Tucking her hands firmly back into her cloak, she threw him an apologetic glance.

She turned her attention to the celestial patterns etched across his skin. “This is stunning.” Her gaze remained fully focused on the stars as she circled him.

It was more than that, actually. It was amazing—magic more glorious than she could’ve imagined.

He watched her, clearly giving her time. After her second pass, she met his eyes. His irises were no longer lilac-colored. Instead, they reflected the exact shade and brightness of the full moon.

“You’re not afraid?” He sounded surprised.

On the contrary—this was the most unique expression of magic ever. Aliya shook her head. “What’s happening?”

He reached out his hand. “I don’t know. This has happened every few moons since the day I was born.” He paused for a moment before continuing, dropping his voice. “It’s why we left.”

Taking the hand he offered, she pushed her finger into his palm, tracing the wrinkles. His hand felt warm, the callouses rough. Her muscles trembled at the urge to touch more, like an addict craving their next fix of night-weed.

“What are you doing?”




Top Books !
More Top Books

Treanding Books !
More Treanding Books