Page 65 of To Kill a King

“Yes,” Aliya answered. “My father guarded the secret jealously, but he let it slip to sweeten the pot in negotiating my bride price.”

Cressida blinked and shook her head. “May the Light spare you, child.”

Chapter 13

Aliya

Lindir led them to their lodgings.

“I’ll return later with more food, maybe some venison if there’s any leftover from breakfast,” he said. Pausing, he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more. Shaking his head, he snapped his jaw closed and turned away, leaving them to their own devices. His footsteps faded.

“I’ve never seen a tree this huge, Elessan.” Aliya stood in the door, staring at the ceiling many feet above, trying not to gape. Inside, the trunk was hollow. It seemed like the wood grew that way, rather than being carved out. The graceful lines of the interior walls gave way to several flat surfaces, either at seat or table height, spaced around the room. Oversized pillows lay about for any who didn’t want to use the wooden chairs. Two smaller rooms branched off in the back, large enough to serve as sleeping quarters.

“Both the sun and the moon elves utilize buildings constructed in this manner,” Elessan said, sitting on one of the seats and leaning back against the wall. He rubbed his hand where the bench seamlessly blended with the rest. “It takes centuries for the landscape architects to shape wood like this. The process must be started when the tree is a sapling, or it’ll die.”

Aliya glanced back at the curtain of ivy covering the doorway, and the luxurious carpet of moss. Nothing appeared to be in danger of dying anytime soon. Everything around Filathas was green, thick, and lush. The city’s architecture put her father’s immaculate gardens to shame.

“Wow.” She ran her hand over the door frame. “Is this magic?”

Elessan shrugged. “Possibly. Not every elf possesses the skill. Or the patience.”

Zadé chortled and took a deep swig from her flask. “At least the beds are more comfortable than the humans’.” She took a few staggering steps toward one of the bedrooms.

Surely, she couldn’t be drunk already? Aliya shook her head. Who was she kidding? If she wasn’t still drunk from the night before, then she was probably just pretending. Either way… “Zadé, it’s not even noon.”

“Can’t help it,” Zadé answered, turning her unfocused gaze in their direction. “My aunt brings out th’ worst ‘n me.” She tripped into one of the cubbies. “Don’t worry—I’ll sleep the booze off.” Moments later, heavy snores echoed from the bedroom.

Aliya raised an eyebrow.

“Her flask must be enchanted to stay full,” Elessan said. “I don’t think she’s had the chance to refill it for the last two weeks, but she still drinks freely.”

Aliya bit her lip. The contents weren’t her secret to reveal. “A magical canteen? Is such a thing possible?” If that was the case, it may very well still be Stephen’s Pálinka.

She’d kill for one she could keep filled with water. Then, she could change shape whenever she wished.

“Many feats are achievable with enough magic.” He paused. “Including your freedom. If you decide to fight for it.”

She frowned as the change in topic chilled her stomach. “Fight? You mean, kill Malkov?”

Elessan shrugged. “You know him better than I. Would anything less convince him to leave you in peace?”

She sighed. No…it wouldn’t. Plus, she’d made an Irrevocable Vow, and if she didn’t fulfill it by the summer solstice, both of their lives would be forfeit. Her arm throbbed as she thought back to her dream this morning. “No. I don’t think I can, though—murder another person. Even one as evil as him. I’d freeze up at the last second.”

“You’re not alone. I’ll help you. So will Lady Brightleaf. The Mage Underground also pledged their support. We all have a vested interest in ending this war and having someone reasonable on the human throne.” His hand settled on her shoulder and squeezed. “And I’d rather he dies than you.”

She flinched at the sharp ache from her bruise. She tried to pull away, but he caught her elbow.

Widening his eyes, Elessan slid her sleeve up. His nostrils flared at the discolored skin, and he bared his teeth and growled, “Valek! Who did that to you?”

She jerked out of his grip and smoothed the fabric down over her arm. “I told you, I was dreaming.”

He paled. “The king did this? In your dreams?”

Well, at least she couldn’t fault him for not believing her.

He clasped her shoulders, careful to avoid the sore spot, and turned her to face him squarely.

“How many times has this happened?”