by Terry Spear
He was, after all, son of the king’s chief advisor. That position elevated him above everyone else his age, but the prince. Even most shadow elves revered him.
He puffed out his chest. She wasn’t scared, like she should have been. She was downright rude.
If she’d been frightened, he would have reassured her that she was safe in his presence. But no. She acted as though he was no one of consequence. Dracolin Rossover, the Warrior Chief, from a long line of Warrior Chiefs.
He frowned at her. She glanced at him and glowered back.
Annoyed, he clenched his fists. He quickly surveyed the area ahead, hoping they wouldn’t encounter the river elves. He’d intended to investigate the Ro River from the top of the cliffs, not next to the river, where the elves might suddenly appear.
Somehow he had to persuade her to not go any farther. Somehow he had to convince her to join him at the top of the cliffs. But would she next try to drown herself in the river if he attempted to grab her? Her actions confounded him. “It’s dangerous for us to be down—”
“For you. Return home before whatever you fear gets you.”
Her words were spoken with malice and yet the sensuous, sweet lilt to her voice entranced him, reminding him of the tales of the mermaids of Lorena Cliffs. He’d seen illustrations of them, all picturing the mer-creatures with green eyes and red hair. He glanced down at her legs. And silver-scaled tails.
But another matter concerned him…she knew the elves’ speech. How could she, when they had no record of a creature that looked like her ever existed?
When he looked up, she was watching him with those almond-shaped eyes that looked suspiciously like the Angoran cats of the jungles of Nubia. Was she one of the fabled shape-shifters he’d heard tell of?
Her lips turned up slightly at the corners, as if his thoughts had amused her.
His aggravation grew as his stomach knotted into rope. How dare the girl act as though he existed only for her amusement!
***
As angry as Persephonice felt concerning what she suspected her people had done to her, she couldn’t help but be amused by the elf’s confusion as to what she was. She couldn’t read his mind, but only sense his bewilderment. Poor elf. If he knew she could read him that well, his masculinity would suffer another earth-shattering defeat.
She stopped in her footsteps suddenly, and it took Dracolin a couple of lengthy strides forward before he realized she wasn’t keeping up with him any longer.
He turned to face her and waited for her to speak.
She glanced up at the top of the cliffs where Dracolin’s two companions ran back to watch them. She folded her arms and turned her attention to Dracolin. “What’s down here that you fear?”
Again, she sensed her voice washed over him, warming him like a heated wave on a summer’s day.
“Who are you?” he asked. His eyes shifted from hers to her hair, then back to her face.
She couldn’t believe her mere voice would affect the shadow elf so profoundly. Or maybe it was the color of her hair. “Persephonice.”
“What are you?”
She took a ragged breath. “Listen, none of that matters. I have places to go and things to do. I just thought you worried about some trouble we might find ahead. If you’re anxious about me, don’t be. Just run along at the top of the cliffs with your friends. Be safe. I’ll be fine on my own.” At least she hoped her abilities would keep her safe. But she figured the shadow elf wanted to take her prisoner as some kind of prize. That’s what primitive peoples did on other worlds.
If she couldn’t discourage him nicely though…
He took a step toward her, and for an instant she panicked. Was it because he still held onto the hilt of his sword that forced a chill down her spine? Maybe he wished to take her prisoner now.
She punched her wristband again, but the transporter didn’t respond. Her blood heated as hot as their engine did when it burned up in a planet’s atmosphere one time.
“Forget it.” She attempted to skirt past him, but this time he grabbed her arm. His strong, firm touch flustered her. “Either release my arm, or lose your fingers.”
This time he grinned, but he let go of her arm. “Can you tell me how you would accomplish such a thing?”
“I thought you were afraid of something down here.”
His face turned dark. “I fear no one.”
“Ah, good.” She rushed past him, intending to reach her ship before her people repaired it. They would not leave her behind!
“You know our language,” Dracolin said, as he fell into step beside her.
“I know many languages.” An inner ear transplant made it possible. She smiled. No sense in letting the shadow elf know her secret. On some worlds the overseers were thought of as gods and goddesses because of their special abilities, some inborn, some computer chip enhanced. That’s why they tried to oversee only worlds where the peoples were less primitive.
She wasn’t sure why she said it, but the words slipped out before she could stop herself. “You’re very handsome.”
She sensed an overwhelming pride swelled in that already big head of his. He moved closer to her, brushing his arm against hers. She raised a brow, surprised at his actions. Watching what she said would have to be tantamount.
Used to her people sharing his or her feelings on a telepathic level, she only felt it fair to tell Dracolin what she thought of him, because she sensed what he felt about her. It seemed to her now though it was better to keep such things a secret from primitive peoples.
“We have a tradition that shows how shadow elves feel toward one another, when they think the other…handsome,” he said.
“Indeed.” Now she knew she’d made a mistake in telling him he was handsome.
“Maybe your people do something similar.”
What had he in mind? She quickened her step and ignored him. Getting to her ship was all that concerned her now. Well, and the idea something along the riverbank might suddenly appear concerned her, too.
She glanced at him. She didn’t want him to get hurt, just because he wanted to protect her. He would have stayed on top of the cliffs out of harm’s way if it hadn’t been for her. Besides, if she had to use her abilities, the fewer who knew of them in a primitive world, the better.
“We call it a kiss,” he persisted.
She couldn’t help the smile that slowly appeared on her face. He appeared to be a warrior, but he seemed to have some strong girl charming qualities, too. How many hearts was he breaking right this instant?
He chuckled. “You seem to know of this.”
“A universal affliction.”
His dark brows rose. “An affliction? You do not like the practice?”
Of course she liked being kissed by a handsome man. But her lifetime mate had died. She frowned and shook her head.
“You have been hurt by a…a, well, what are you exactly?”
“An overseer.” She said it because, genetically, that’s what she was born to be. Though it wasn’t the correct answer to the question he had asked. He’d no more know what a langolar was than she knew what a shadow elf was since they didn’t have any substantial data concerning them.
He rubbed his smooth as silk chin. “It sounds like an occupation not a race of people.”
He was smarter than her kind led her to believe, but she felt the less he knew about her, the better off she would be.
He studied her way too closely when she wouldn’t say, and her skin warmed with chagrin. “You were hurt by this male…overseer?”
Speaking about losing her lifemate wasn’t something she wished to do with a shadow elf or anyone else. How could he understand how important it was to be chosen and to choose in return, the companion she would share her life with forever? Now she couldn’t even have the job she was trained for without him. In an instant, she had lost her future partner and her lifelong job.
“He was killed.” She couldn’t explain how. A shadow elf wouldn’t u
nderstand about the hazards of space travel and the dangers of other worlds.
“A warrior?”
She sensed Dracolin wouldn’t see her intended as anything respectable unless he was a warrior like him. She tilted her chin up. The man had been an overseer like her. They didn’t fight. They acted as observers in strange new worlds, documenting, then transmitted the information to their archives to educate their people. A dangerous job to be sure on some worlds. However, they were not warriors. No matter how she wanted to protect his image from the shadow elf, she couldn’t lie about his occupation. “He was an overseer.”
Dracolin smiled. “It is an occupation. But not a warrior’s one.”
She frowned. Was he pleased her intended hadn’t been as worthy as he felt he was? Didn’t he realize he was a shadow elf, for heaven’s sakes? And langolars didn’t mix with any other races? Plus she’d already been caught up in a lie. How could she rectify herself now? Maybe he’d think she was afraid of him, just a little. She straightened her back. That would probably suit him fine.
He reached over and touched a lock of her hair as it bounced when she walked. “I have never seen hair that is red like yours on a land bound creature. I’ve seen mermaids though, who were redheaded like you.”
“I have no fishtail.”
He glanced down at her legs and smiled. “No, much better. So where do you intend to go?”
They had already walked for a mile when she suddenly noticed the sound of water rushing at breakneck speed around the bend of the canyon. Dracolin heard it, too. He grabbed her arm, then headed for the cliff face. If the water had been released, it meant the ship had already been repaired and had escaped its watery grave.
With Dracolin pulling her toward the canyon wall, she attempted once again to transport herself to her ship. When there was no response, she sank to her knees in despair, her heart pounding like the water did against the boulders in its wake.
Dracolin quickly crouched at her side. “Persephonice?”
She sobbed, hating for the shadow elf to see her so desolate. “Leave me to drown!” She felt so alone, knowing her own kind had abandoned her. How could they be so cruel? So…so, barbaric!
“You loved this man so much, that it distresses you?”
“Love?” She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands, as she stared up at Dracolin, not sure what he was getting at.
He pulled a soft blue cloth from his shirt and dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “You must have loved him greatly.”
She stared at him blankly. What had love to do with it? They were lifemates, perfectly matched in temperament and skills. Love never entered into it. She shook her head.
He tilted his head to the side, seemingly perplexed. “You must have loved him.”
“We were perfectly matched.”
“Ahhh, I’ve heard of marriages like this where there’s no love, only mutual compatibility. Although sometimes alliances are made to increase one’s property holdings or stop clan fighting.”
Though he seemed concerned for her welfare still, his face brightened with the notion she had not loved her lifemate.
She couched the irritation that simmered in her blood. What did a shadow elf know about her or how important a lifemate was for an overseer?
In a sudden torrent, the river overflowed its banks with a roar. Dracolin pulled her to her feet. Pressing his body against hers, he held her close to the cliff face, away from the threat of the water. Though from what she could see, the water only spread across the rocky beach, maybe an inch deep, toward them, threatening to wet the bottoms of their shoes as far as they were from the body of the river.
She smiled at Dracolin’s actions to save her. His eyes sparkled with mischief and something more. Devilish intrigue? He leaned down and to her surprise, kissed her lips.
For an instant, she grew dizzy as his warm mouth pressed against hers, unassuming, and totally sweet. When he broke free, she stared up at him, wanting more than anything to learn of this shadow elf’s concept of love. She tilted her chin up, desiring him to kiss her again.
But then something stirred behind them close to the river’s edge.
“Watch your back, Dracolin!” Balon shouted.
“Get the girl up here quickly!” the prince shouted.
In the distance, men dressed in blue leather ran toward them, shaking moss-covered staffs in anger. Their blue hair hung to their shoulders, tucked behind their ears, revealing their pointed shapes. Their blue brows knit together as they scowled, their blue eyes shown as icy daggers.
“River elves,” Dracolin said under his breath, confirming her suspicions, as he lifted her to the first rock in the long climb up the cliff.
“Dangerous?” she asked, not wanting to hear that they were.
“Very,” he said, urging her upward as fast as he could without making her lose her footing.
Chapter 3
Dracolin chided himself for having kissed the girl, not even knowing what she truly was when he should have been more aware of their dangerous surroundings. Still, hadn’t he wished she would be afraid of his fierce warrior status? Now he felt she had lied to him about what she was because she had feared revealing too much about herself.
So why did her being afraid of him not please him?
He wanted to know what kind of creature she was, that’s why. More than ever he was determined to know. What manner of creature could fall forty feet and not suffer a scratch? What race had red hair, green eyes, rounded ears, and no silver tail? None he’d ever heard of. And yet he’d read every book his kind had on mythical and real creatures of their world.
Was she an abomination? A deformity, freak of nature? If so she was the prettiest abnormality he’d ever seen.
And then he wondered. Was she a land-bound mermaid? Her voice and actions entranced him as he’d heard mermaids lured sailors to their deaths. Her lips felt and tasted so good, he wanted to kiss her once more. She had tilted her face up to him, her green eyes and full pink lips begging him to kiss her again. Was she a deadly, beautiful siren who walked on legs?
He glanced back at the river elves in hot pursuit of them. Undoubtedly, something had detained them upstream, maybe where the blockage had occurred. They must have freed their river.
But now they were bound and determined to make those pay who dared enter their territory without permission.
If he didn’t get the girl to safety, he’d never forgive himself. Not that they’d kill her. They’d most likely want to keep her like he did, as exotic as she was. Word would soon spread of the mermaid without a fishtail. The river elves would undoubtedly think she was theirs as closely related as they were to other water creatures.
“Can you swim?” he asked, hoping she’d say no. If she couldn’t swim, the river elves would have no claim to her. At least as far as he was concerned. If she couldn’t swim, he could more than likely rule out she was a cousin to the mermaids.
“Yes, I can.”
His heart sank. She could swim. What else could she do? “Are you a mermaid?”
Her breath came quickly with the tiring climb, and he realized she had very little muscle. She most likely never climbed mountains wherever she came from. And the females of her race did not appear as strong as the females of his. At least she didn’t seem to have the physical strength.
“Uhm, it’s taking every ounce of breath I have to make it up this cliff face.”
He wanted to carry her over his shoulder. Well, maybe that wouldn’t work. She appeared lightweight enough, but he probably couldn’t maneuver her over his shoulder at this point. Maybe she could hold onto his back and he could carry her that way.
He looked down, knowing that it wasn’t a good idea. Keep moving upward—don’t look back—he told himself. But he couldn’t help it. If they didn’t reach the top edge of the cliffs, the river elves could use their tranquilizer darts on them. Both would fall and hopefully be caught by the elves, though he figured they might just let him fal
l without trying to catch him.
Once they were prisoners of the river elves, they’d be in a real bind. A prisoner exchange would result, only he was certain they wouldn’t give up the girl.
The river elves were still running, and he was glad they swam faster than they ran at this point.
“Hurry, Dracolin!” Balon urged as he leaned down over the edge of the cliff, shouting encouragement.
The prince made him move over so he could stretch his hand out to Persephonice.
But she ignored him, as he was still twenty feet above her. She reached for a new rock to help pull herself up farther.
At her slow pace, Dracolin knew they’d never make it. He could have easily climbed up the face of the cliff alone. But even so, he wasn’t sure he could go that fast, carrying the girl.
“If you tried to pry me from the cliff face, I might fall,” she said, breathlessly.
“What?” How did she know what he was thinking?
She glanced over at him, a look of worry in her green eyes. “Nothing,” she quickly said, then reached for the next rock above her.
Her comment surprised him, but the danger they were in warranted more of his attention at the moment. He didn’t want to worry her as much as he was concerned. But he felt it his duty to tell her how much trouble they were in. “I don’t think we’ll make it to the top in time, Persephonice. If they shoot their tranquilizer darts at us, we’re doomed.”
She took a ragged breath and moved a tiny bit faster, but he could tell from her movements her arms were about ready to give out.
The sound of the river elves running across the rocks grew closer, spurring Dracolin to reach for Persephonice. As many times as she paused to catch her breath and rest her arms, he worried she might fall even without being tranquilized. He drew as close to her as he could. “Can you grab onto me?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her eyes grew wide with fear and her lips quivered. “What will they do to me?”
“Persephonice, listen carefully to me. I’ll work my leg between yours and the rock face and plant my foot on the rock between your feet. I want you to grab my waist, or neck, or whatever you can get a good grip on.”
