Page 81 of To Kill a King

Aliya’s stomach crashed to the ground. She flung out her arms to keep her balance.

No. Not Elessan. He wouldn’t. Such a backhanded, self-serving move was expected from her father, or the other nobles. But El was nothing like them.

She paused. Was he? How well did she really know him? She had been blind and naïve to trust him so easily, just because he helped her in the woods.

Her vision turned watery as her eyes brimmed with tears. Lindir reached for her, but she jerked back out of his reach. “No. He wouldn’t. You misheard.” She slapped a few strands of loose hair away from her face.

Lindir’s face softened. “I’m so sorry. I stayed long enough to confirm it. But don’t worry—my aunt believes you’ll make a more valuable ally. She’ll talk to Princess Tsara, remind her you’re not in sun elf lands and thus not in her jurisdiction.”

Lindir kept talking, but she wasn’t listening. He was wrong.

She grabbed his hand, cutting him off. “Come with me. I’ll prove it to you.”

He bit his lips as though that could hide the pity in his gaze.

Aliya narrowed her eyes and growled deep in her throat. She’d show him. Elessan had nothing planned today, and was going to sleep in. He’d told her so this morning.

Lindir followed, not resisting as she yanked his arm and doubled her speed. The heat of fear had been replaced with ice by the time Aliya shoved the curtain of vines out of the way. She lunged into the tree she shared with Elessan and Zadé.

“El!” She should’ve been worried that he might not be dressed yet. Barging into the bedroom with Lindir in tow would be awkward, to say the least. But she didn’t care.

The bed was empty, the covers thrown aside as though he’d leapt from them suddenly. Butterflies fluttered in her gut. Something had happened. He had to be okay.

“Aliya.”

Lindir’s tone caught her attention. She pivoted, nailing him with her gaze.

He nodded toward Elessan’s pack, tipped over like he’d kicked it and abandoned it there. Which was odd. El was always so protective of his backpack. The loosened knot unraveled as she grabbed the canvas bag. Her wanted poster from Westcliff tumbled onto the ground, followed by a large piece of parchment rolled up like a scroll and something about the size of her head covered in padded leather.

Aliya reached down and picked up the object. The material was soft and supple, like fleece-lined suede. She undid the buttons and peeled off the cover. “Wow.” The mirror was a little larger than her hand and bordered with an off-white crystal. Quartz.

Elessan was full of surprises.

The handle turned warm and glowed a dull purple where her hand warmed it. The glass cleared, revealing a desk chair in front of a shelf of books and scrolls.

Valek.

She wrapped the mirror back in its protective case and shoved it with a little too much force into the backpack. Scrying mirrors were rare, and dangerous if one didn’t know who was watching.

Elessan should have no need of such a thing… Unless he was more than a common messenger.

Lindir raised an eyebrow but didn’t inquire further. He snatched the rolled parchment from the floor. He had the document open and rolled out on the bed before she could blink. “What’s this?”

Aliya’s jaw slackened as her fingers brushed over the lines inked in Elessan’s own hand. “Lions Grove, Troutdale, Westcliff, Farnfoss…” All the towns she and Elessan had passed through since they met weeks ago.

“What’s that flame-thing mean,” Lindir asked, pointing at a symbol above Lions Grove.

Aliya consulted the map’s legend. “Suspected presence of the Mage Underground.”

“And the flame with the squiggle under it?” He directed her attention to Westcliff.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Confirmed location of the Mage Underground. Was he hunting for mages? For me?”

Lindir leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear as he looked over her shoulder. “I don’t think so. At least, not just for you. See? He’s got names written in various cities…Kavol Bluntforged by Westcliff, Danshor Torra by Ithabasa…”

Aliya blinked. Her memory of Westcliff wasn’t the best, but she’d swear Kavol had been the name of the dwarf Elessan brought her to when she was wounded. He’d said something about not meeting until the following day. She sighed.

Lindir was still reading off names, but she quit listening.