Page 41 of To Kill a King

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Page 41 of To Kill a King

Aliya’s temple thwacked against something as she bounced in a steady cadence. She took a deep breath. The scent of sun-baked pine needles flooded her nostrils.

Elessan.

She’d smile if everything didn’t hurt so much. Her ribs felt as though they were bound in steel, making it hard to breathe.

She groaned and tried to shift so her head didn’t bang into his collarbone with every step he took. Opening her eyes only made the world spin, so she squeezed them closed and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Shhh,” he said in her ear. “Stay with me, Aliya.”

She took a breath to ask him to run more smoothly when he stopped.

His weight shifted. Wood split with a crack.

A gravelly voice called out from inside. “What the…Elessan?” Footsteps approached. “We’re not due to meet until tomorrow. What’s going on here? Who’s this?”

“Kavol, I need you to put me in touch with the Mage Underground. She needs a doctor.”

Mage Underground? What was he going on about? She opened her eyes. The floor tilted sideways, her vision blackening around the edges. Or maybe the room was just dark.

The other person inhaled sharply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Elessan’s voice dropped an octave. “Don’t play stupid with me, dwarf. She’s a magic user on the run from the King, and she’s dying. I know they’re here somewhere. Make the introduction, or I’ll tie you to a boat and float you over Ithabasa Falls.”

Kavol harumphed. “I’d like to see you try, elf.”

A hard surface pushed into Aliya’s back as Elessan set her down. Metal scraped over leather. She cracked her eyelids open. Elessan had his sword pressed against the neck of a dwarf with mahogany hair down to his waist and a curly beard decorated with teal beads.

Kavol frowned and crossed his arms, disregarding the blade at his throat. “I know who you work for. You don’t have the authority to kill me. The sun elves can’t afford to fight on two fronts.”

“She’s the human’s monarch, and our best bet at ending this without further bloodshed.”

Kavol studied Elessan’s face as tension stretched between them.

The stocky man broke the silence with a loud sigh. “The human queen. I heard she’d gone missing. Bobbleshanks. Stay here. Don’t let her bleed all over the place. And you’d better not be lying to me, or you will have that war on two borders.”

The dwarf’s footsteps receded. The door slammed, sending daggers of pain through her temples.

She winced.

“Hang on.” Elessan lifted her head and shoved something soft under it. “Help will be here soon.”

She gave him a faint smile and closed her eyes.

A rich tenor voice mumbled from somewhere above her. The steel bands fell away from her ribs. She stirred, taking a deep breath.

“Hold her, elf.”

Firm hands pressed down on her shoulders.

The image of Malkov grabbing her wrist careened into her thoughts. No! She jerked one way then the other.

Someone cursed.

Elessan’s soothing voice rumbled near her ear. “Be still. You’re safe.”

“Hmm. It’s well-bandaged, at least,” the unfamiliar person said.

She peeked between barely open lids. A wizened old man, no taller than four feet, leaned over her. His wire-rimmed spectacles slid down his knobby nose. Pointed ears, less distinct than Elessan’s, peered out from the cloud of gray hair.




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