by K.N. Lee
Nala gaped at him—at how he lifted his hand, a glowing symbol on his palm swirling with vibrant hues of blue and gold.
He was tall, as tall as Ciaran, with long silver hair that was braided down his back. In leather that reached mid-thigh with lattice work unlike any she had ever seen, he was an impressive figure. His armor matched the large, thick leather bands by his wrists, with black pants and a black shirt with a belt same warm brown of his surcoat. Gold accents decorated the belt.
Silver eyes met hers as he stepped forward.
She looked from Ciaran to the soldiers.
They were frozen.
She tried to move, and failed.
“Nala,” King Tristan said, and her heart began to race in her chest.
What was he doing to her?
Her mind became cloudy, woosy, and her knees weakened.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her.
“Do not despair. Do not have fear. I am here to help. One wizard to another.”
Her eyes widened, but she was unable to speak.
An elven wizard?
“That’s right, little beauty. I claim you as my apprentice,” he said, tracing the line of her jaw with his smooth thumb. The way his silver eyes searched hers left her feeling dirty—exposed.
He kissed her then, and all air was removed from her lungs. All time vanished, and she was drained of every ounce of energy.
The kiss sucked away her will to run, her desire to scream and scratch him across his perfect pale, white face.
His chuckle vibrated against her mind, a chuckle that haunted her as she lost consciousness.
Chapter Ten
Her head ached, and her entire body felt like it was being jostled around. Nala opened her eyes and immediately wished that she hadn’t.
Her stomach lurched, and she quickly covered her mouth to stop herself from vomiting.
She was on horseback, with someone who smelled of sweat and ale sitting behind her. Despite their stench, they at least kept her upright and maintained her position within a line of other horses.
That’s right. King Tristan had taken her.
Magnus had betrayed her, and Ciaran had been left unable to fulfill his promise to protect her.
The flood of memories washed over her as bitter tears burned her eyes. But, this time she didn’t bother to brush them away.
The world wasn’t fair—but when had it ever been fair to her?
Her back ached. With every step the horse took, a fresh shock of pain rippled through her. Although she had a thousand questions, she would not ask a single one.
All she could do as they rode rode through the thick forests, she watched the king ride his white Great Wolf, regal and graceful, her hate simmering.
The song of the trees too was too faint to drown out the chatter of the king’s soldiers, and trotting of the horses. But, she tried to imagine herself back home with Ciaran.
Just when he revealed feelings for her, she’d been ripped away.
By nightfall, they reached a black keep that nearly blended in with the dark forest. The stone building loomed above them, stoic, with a haunted aura about it. Several windows looked out to them, black and barred.
The back was pressed into the mountain, and it seemed that whoever built it wanted it to blend with its surroundings.
The king and his army halted.
“We will stay here for the night,” King Tristan declared. “We will dine.” His gaze casually met hers. “Have my guest seated at my table, by my side.
She tensed, afraid to face him and his magic again.
While two of the soldiers tended to the horses and the king’s Great Wolf, Nala was helped from the horse and taken to the set of steps that reached high up the tower.
The king marched up the narrow, stone, stairs first. Inside, guards waited and held the door open.
Inside, darkness awaited, with only the dim light of a few scant torches to light their way. The first room was the disarming room, yet the king kept his silver sword attached to his belt.
At the other end of the disarming room was the main thick, solid double doors to the inside of the keep.
They walked through several stone rooms that made her shiver from the damp chill before coming to a hall with several long tables with even longer logs laid out as chairs.
Without delay, the slaves there went about to make them an entire feast including a stuffed pig. Naturally, the king sat at the head of the table, and as ordered, she was seated beside him. The rest of his soldiers filled in elsewhere.
Servants brought out several platters of food. The king had a bite or two of every dish, ignoring her for the most part. She had no appetite, though hunger had began to make her stomach grumble far too loudly.
“Nala,” King Tristan called, surprising her.
She glanced up from her plate of roasted mutton and potatoes, lifting a brow.
“What do you know of your parentage?”
She frowned. “What king of question is that? My mother and father were kind, gentle folks, destroyed by your armies.”
When he finally looked to her, her heart skipped a beat and the color drained from her face.
Within his eyes were secrets and mysteries that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
“I am sure your surrogate family were lovely people,” he said, with a nod. “But, I am referring to your real mother and father. The wizards who passed down their magic to you.”
The fact that he’d just added truth to the deer from her dream’s revelation baffled her.
“What do you mean?”
He stared at her with such intent that she wished he could look at something or someone else.
“Interesting,” he said, rubbing his chin. “You truly have no knowledge of who you are or where you came from.”
Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head.
He shrugged with a sigh. “Very well. As your new master, and teacher, I will remedy that unfortunate dilemma. Tis a shame. I know more about you than you know about yourself.”
She leaned forward. “What do you know about me?”
He drank from his cup of wine. “Enough,” he said, dismissing her the moment he stood and left the table.
Leaping from her seat, she shouted after him. “Where are you going? You haven’t told me anything.”
“Sit,” the king ordered, his glare sending terror into her soul. His eyes burned with an intensity she hadn’t yet witnessed from him.
Never before had she felt so weak, so vulnerable. Although she knew how to wield various weapons, she could not use any against the king.
She sat down, folding her hands in her lap, pursing her lips.
“You wish to know what I know about you,” the king said. “That is simple enough. The truth is, I’ve been searching for you—since the day you were born.”
Chapter Eleven
Special?
She looked up to the king, her mind whirling with questions. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to voice any of them.
Sighing, he motioned for her to rise. “Come with me.”
Nala came to her feet, and followed the king away from the dining hall. Her feet propelled her forward, yet her heart raced.
How could he know anything about her, and actively search for her?
The darkness of the series of halls they walked through cast shadows that kept her right at the king’s heels. Though she should fear him, she found herself desperate for answers.
“You are special,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice echoed along the stone walls. “And, they had you masquerading as a slave.”
When they reached his quarters, she lingered in the doorway, unsure if she should enter, or if she had a choice. The room was large, with bed, small table piled high with books and strange orbs, and wooden chairs that faced the fire. A black, bear-hide rug lay under the chairs, where a small gray cat slept.
“They never treated me as such,” she said in a soft voic
e.
“Have a seat,” he said, holding out one of the chairs.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she did as she was told. She sat on the edge of the chair, eyes fixed on the flames that danced and crackled before her. A servant approached, her eyes resting on Nala.
“Would you like your nightly tea now, your royal highness?”
He sat beside Nala and folded his legs. “Yes. Please bring one for the young lady as well.”
“As you wish,” she said with a bow and scurried off to fetch the tea.
Once she was gone, he resumed their conversation. “You cared for Magnus and his siblings,” he said, and she nodded. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Nala asked.
“I do,” he said. “They took you in when you’d lost your home and surrogate family. However, you have wasted so many years cleaning and caring for their horses that we are almost out of time. You’re twenty-one, correct?”
“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes as the warmth of the fire seeped into her bones. “My name day was last month.” For a moment, she forgot that he was the king who took her from her home, and they were just strangers getting to know one another.
“You are at the age for which the prophecies have claimed you will reach maturity and come into your magic.”
Her brows lifted. “Prophecy?”
As if a flame had started within him that had been struggling to come to life for years, he relaxed and smiled. “You truly do not have any notion as to who you are.”
“I am a slave. I am an orphan. That is all.”
“That is not all you are,” the king said, softer than she could have hoped.
Almost reverent.
From the corner of her eye, she spied him watching her. “What else am I?”
“You are the daughter of the Grand Wizard, Eisa and her mate, Ryce,” he said, leaning forward.
“That is her name, then? My real mother?”
He nodded. “Yes. She is truly a divine wizard, one who is unmatched in power. Until now.”
She knew what he meant. She was supposedly as powerful as her mother.
“The prophecies state that you will master three types of magic. Tempting, healing, and manipulation of fire.”
Her hands tingled and she lifted them before her eyes to examine them. This information was so overwhelming she was rendered speechless.
“You mother is master of wind magic, psychic, and curses.”
“Where is she? Do you know?” Despite the knowledge she now had, all she truly wanted to know was where to find her.
“Continuing her campaign against my people along the southern coast.”
She sat up straighter. “Campaign?”
“Oh,” he said. “I suppose I should be truthful with you. Since we are doing so well with being candid with one another.”
She nodded, urging him on.
“Your mother is a battle wizard—one we are at war with—and I’m going to use you to help me stop her.”
Chapter Twelve
After her talk with the king, Nala was taken to a small room where she was left alone and locked in. She’d tried the knob, hopeful for any chance to escape.
Despite her initial thoughts of the king, he wanted to use her for his own gain.
To stop whatever war her mother had waged on the elves.
Nala couldn’t sleep. The blanket she had laid beneath her did little to protect her from the cold that bit at her throughout the night. The hard cot was stiff and unyielding against her back.
Her stomach churched at each idea of coming face-to-face with her birth mother only to meet her in battle. She looked at her hands—pale in the dark—and wondered if his assumptions about her were true.
When she finally drifted off, it seemed as if only minutes had passed before she was awakened by a tall, elven soldier with bright red hair and freckles across the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones.
“Up,” he said. “We ride with the king.”
She was directed out of the keep where the other soldiers awaited on their horses, along with the king.
“Let us ride,” King Tristan said, nodding for them to begin down the long hill back into the thickness of the forest.
The red head who had awakened her rode up and pulled her into the saddle. The duration of the ride, he whispered cruel remarks into her ear until she elbowed him hard in his stomach.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured as he gasped for air. “My elbow slipped.”
He grabbed her hair but released immediately as the king led the Great Wolf over to them. King Tristan said not a word, simply riding close by, eyes fixed on the rocky road before them.
The soldier created no further issues for the rest of their trek.
For a moment, Nala was certain the king was there to protect her from further cruelty. Still, she was unsure of what to think of the king. So far, he hadn’t mistreated her and had been forthcoming with information. But, trust wasn’t something she gave to others.
Her thoughts drifted as the miles went by beneath the horses’ hooves.
Long after midday, they arrived at the port. The hustle and bustle should prove distracting, but all Nala had eyes for was the water. So blue, calm, and vast.
She eagerly looked out to the sea. This was something she had never seen before. Such an enchanting sight, with sea gulls flying overhead, and the sun’s light glistening on the surface of the blue-green water.
The ships were amazing to gaze upon as well, with elaborately carved figureheads and painted hulls. Flags whipped about despite the calm, salt-scented, breeze.
At the end of the pier sat a massive ship. Nala was not at all shocked when the king stopped before it.
“Two days we shall sail,” he announced. “Then, we will arrive home.”
Nala’s stomach twisted. This would be her third new home. Dismayed, she closed her eyes to prevent any tears from falling. After years of hoping to be reunited with the woman she had grown to know and love as her mother, she was being taken further away from her goal.
She eyed his ship. Slender and long, far longer than most, the ship could hold all of them, including the horses. There would be no privacy at all, no area where she might be separate from the men.
This will be torture.
The figurehead of the king’s ship was that of a fierce wolf’s head. The eyes were that of red jewels that glittered in the heavy mist. They almost shone a light as if to help sailors avoid obstacles in choppy waters.
Turning her back on the wolf and the king, she stared at the next ship over. This figurehead was that of a serpent, curved, sleek, powerful, and majesty. Snakes might not have arms or legs, but they managed. They slithered around undeterred by what they were lacking.
Nala felt a certain kinship with the animal. Despite the trials she had faced, she would never be deterred. She would never be as broken as the nightmares had tried to render her. No. She would stand firm in the face of any odds.
The soldiers boarded the king’s ship first and took up posts where they could row with sleek oars of dark brown wood.
As she settled onto the ship, she wished to be alone as much as she could. Thankfully, the king kept his distance, talking to one of the elves who had waited on the ship for their arrival.
The oars on the western side all dipped. The moment they arched upward, the eastern oars dipped. Back and forth, the oars propelled the ship forward. The massive red-and-white-striped sail billowed wildly, filling with air, pushing them forward even more. Two long days.
For a moment, she wished that the ship would wreck. So that she may swim free.
Chapter Thirteen
As the hours passed by, the soldiers began to sing songs that mesmerized her with their beauty. In a foreign language, the harmony was unlike anything she’d ever heard.
Nala dipped her head, trying to make out the song’s meaning.
She glanced at the king. To her surprise, he joined in on the song, unabashed. There was so
mething about him that she couldn’t figure out. He was far older than her, but there was something mystical and youthful about him, even as he stood stoic at the front of the ship, gazing outward at the sea. The wind billowed his silver hair. With the horizon before him, he personified power and magic in a way she had never witnessed.
Despite his beauty, she was certain she had no special favor in his line of sight. Although he clearly wished to use her for her magic, he was not the kind of elf to bargain. No.
She would do as he ordered, unless she found a way to free herself.
The ship smoothly sailed through the dark waters, and Nala found herself dozing off to sleep.
As soft rain splatted on her face, she woke with a start. Stars twinkled down at her. Night had fallen, as half the soldiers rowed while the others slept.
Nala listened to the drip, drip, drip of the water from the oars each time they were raised. The sound was comforting, the rocking of the ship gently, and Nala found her eyes growing heavy once more. This time, she fought through sleep. She managed to stay awake until after they broke their fast with hard bread and some fish a few soldiers caught.
Raw fish. Such a meal was new to her, but she ate her fill. Throughout the journey, they faced only calm, peaceful waters with scattered trickles of rain.
As night neared on the second day, they finally entered the port.
Sore and in need of a bath and change of clothes, Nala was marched down to the pier.
“Escort the young lady to the palace,” she’d overheard the king ordering three guards who awaited their arrival.
The palace stood on the rocks, facing the port. Just beyond the jungle, it was bigger than any structure she’d ever seen. Despite herself, Nala gaped at it, entranced by its beauty.
White stone, huge towers, thousands of slits for archers to be posted form, the palace was a sight to behold. Arches decorated the main door frames. An air of power and authority hung in the air as she entered the palace. Light spilled in from stained glass windows that lined the upper walls. It highlighted the flutters of dust in the air.
