by Isabo Kelly
“You’ve seen him before? He’ll know you?”
“No. I’ll be new to the…job. But the cuts, none of them so deep as to be life threatening, will validate my claim. The fact that I know to go to him will also add to the authenticity. Only a pain-pleasure servant would be sent to him for the particular potions I’m going for.”
He finally looked up and met her gaze. “You’ll get something to heal your wounds?”
She shrugged. “A side benefit. I’m going for the information.”
“But the potions…?”
“Will close up all the cuts. Even the shoulder cut, though that will take a little longer.”
“How do you know all this?” His voice dropped to a low growl again.
“Because I’m a very good spy,” she said. “I have collected a lot of very valuable information in my time.” She only realized after she’d spoken that her words could be taken as an insult. He’d failed in his self-appointed mission, if his story was to be believed.
But if he took offense, he didn’t show it. “I want to go with you.”
“Impossible. No elf would be sent as an escort to a lowly servant. Even the highest-ranking servants aren’t given guards or escorts.”
“I’ll follow without being seen…”
“No,” she said, putting her hand on his chest to emphasize her point. “You are to stay here and guard that List we’ve gone through so much trouble to get. If I don’t come back before sunset, I’ve been taken and you’ll have to get it to the council on your own.”
She dropped her touch when she felt his heartbeat pick up and realized her own had sped too at the brief contact. She swallowed and forced herself to look into his eyes. “Or were you lying about wanting to end the war? You’ve said you’re good at lying. Have you been to me about your motives?”
Althir snarled and ran a hand through his hair. “No. I have not been lying to you.”
He stalked a few steps away, then turned back, stopping so close she could feel the heat of his body seeping into her skin.
“If you don’t come back by sunset, I’m coming for you. You want to see this through? Make damned sure you get back here safe.”
She blinked at his intensity and her mouth dried. Her emotions swung like a pendulum with Althir. One moment, she was so infuriated with him she could hit him, the next…her heart pounded with something other than anger. She inhaled the scent of him, felt the first tingles of reaction along her nerves.
“I have no intention of failing,” she whispered because she could no longer pull in enough oxygen to raise her voice.
“Good. Because things between us are not yet settled. And I have every intention of seeing that through.”
He left on those ominous words, closing the door very carefully behind him. She stared at the wall, taking in long, slow breaths and swallowing hard to try and rewet her throat. What had she gotten herself into with Althir?
And how would she get out without being damaged?
Chapter Fourteen
Althir stalked through the upper levels of the bakery and chocolatier the entire time Mina was away. Once cleaned and changed into clothes that were as close a fit as he could find, he’d searched the entire building. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he knew this place was different to her—not just another hiding spot. He suspected it was her family home, but she’d led him to another chocolatier before. He wanted to be sure.
She’d been gone for more than an hour when he discovered the pictograph painting of her when she was younger, at a stage when she was just starting to show the woman she’d grow into. She stood smiling with an older couple and young man nearly a head taller than her. The young man’s eyes looked just like Mina’s. He had an arm over her shoulder and a crooked smile that also reminded Althir of Mina.
The artwork wasn’t done by a great master, but the brushstrokes were sufficient to bring the small family to life. And to show a depth of love and companionship he couldn’t quite comprehend. He and Ulric had never been that close. When their parents died during the first goblin war, their relationship had grown even more distant.
Elves rarely had two children as close together as Althir was with Ulric. Usually elven siblings grew up as part of completely different generations. Althir always wished his parents had been smart enough to stick to that pattern. Growing up in Ulric’s perfect shadow had been…a lifelong annoyance.
Althir stared at the picture, knowing he was looking at Mina’s parents and brother. As he’d guessed, this had been her home before the war. Her earlier tears made sense. Returning home, seeing the remains and knowing what had been lost in the intervening years was never easy.
He returned the picture where he’d found it and continued to stalk through the building, too uneasy to rest. Being forced to wait, not being able to watch out for her, went against the grain. He wasn’t sure when it had become so important to him that she remain safe, when he’d started to think it necessary to keep her alive. But he did.
Seeing all the cuts and injuries she’d taken in their fight to get to the List had only intensified that instinct. Letting her leave without him had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. If not for her reminder that the List itself did need to be guarded, he would have followed her, despite her insistence he stay behind.
He’d lost several hundred years off his long life watching the Sorcerer’s knife bite into her throat. Luckily the knife hadn’t cut deep. He’d barely been able to keep up his casual façade, though, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure his charm—and his ability to lie—would hold out against the raging of emotion he had to contain and hide.
His emotional state hadn’t been helped by the sight of all the cuts and bruises decorating her lush body. He’d wanted to break the Sorcerer in half with his bare hands after seeing the angry slice across Mina’s shoulder. Yet, he’d seen worse. A lot worse. In previous wars as well as recently while pretending to be a traitor. None of Mina’s injuries were as serious as he feared. There were just a lot of them, and even one was too many.
He blamed his edginess for losing his temper with her, and for revealing his humiliation to her. He’d never intended to tell anyone—not the king and queen, certainly not his brother or cousin, and most definitely not Mina. The fact that he’d failed in his self-appointed quest and had to go to his fucking brother for help was probably the lowest moment of his life. Admitting his real purpose in joining with the traitors had never been an option. He’d rather be thought of as a traitor, even a coward, than face his people knowing he’d failed so spectacularly.
If he succeeded now, if they managed to get the List back to the Sinnale council and end the war, he’d at least be able to live with himself. Something of use would have come out of this disaster.
He glanced out a window, gauging the time of day. The afternoon was moving on. His restless movements picked up pace. He knew of the Chemist and had a rough idea where the man’s shop was located. Mina should be back soon if nothing went wrong. His hands flexed and he fisted them to keep from snatching up his bow and quiver and heading out after her. She was right—the List needed to be watched. It was the one thing that could redeem him. And it would end the war, thanks to the arrows his cousin had so recently created. Glengowyn would never have to fight. Something his people would celebrate.
As he moved from the residential floors to the two shops on the first floor, careful to keep out of view from the streets, he wondered what Mina would do once the war was over. She claimed to have no family left—which meant those smiling parents and brother from the painting were dead—so would she come back here and try to restart the family business? Or would she move on to something else?
He found himself preoccupied with the thought, and for some reason he couldn't fathom, a little worried too. What if she decided to leave Sinnale? What if she stayed? And why did he care so much what she did after the war was over?
The one thing he hadn’t been lying abo
ut with the Sorcerer was the effects of the Shaerta and the fact that, like it or not, after he seduced Mina, he’d only have a few nights with her before he risked her sanity. Given that fact, her future plans were irrelevant to him. Still…he wondered.
The thought that she might find a human mate and get married stopped his pacing. The very idea sent a flare of anger through him, hard and fast and strong.
But it shouldn’t. Why would he be upset with her finding a life after all she’d lost? She deserved to have a family again. He shouldn’t resent the metaphorical man who would make that happen for her.
He shook himself hard, a full-body jolt to pull him out of his own thoughts. Enough. He’d spent most of the day brooding and he was sick of his own head. Months in a cage had given him more than enough time to brood. Now he had to be ready to help Mina if she needed him.
He glanced at the ceiling, in vaguely the direction of the room where he’d hidden the vessel. There was also a List to free. He didn’t dare try to do that here—it would leave him too weak from the blood loss—but he intended to be the one to open that vessel once they were back in Sinnale-held territory. Which meant he should study it while he could, make sure he knew what he was doing when the time came.
He started back up the hidden stairway at the back of the bakery when he heard the kitchen door open. Flattening himself against the wall, he listened intently to the sound of approaching footsteps. Light, with a gentle swish of material accompanying the movements. Not a minion patrol or Sorcerer guard. He waited until she moved around the corner, her head swiveling and searching as she walked, checking her surroundings, before he stepped away from the wall.
Mina sucked in a breath at his appearance and the move made her breasts pull tight against the low cut of her bodice. Against his will, the sight captured his full attention.
“Althir, you really have to learn to alert me to your presence with some sort of noise. One of these days, I’m going to stab you on accident,” she groused.
“You’re not armed, remember? You refused to carry anything.”
“A pain-pleasure servant wouldn’t carry a short sword. And don’t count on me being unarmed to keep you safe if you continue surprising me.”
Her tart mood eased some of his worry. She wouldn’t be bantering with him if something had gone wrong. “Tell me what you found out.”
“Upstairs.”
He motioned her to precede him, mostly so he could admire her ass in a skirt. Though the dress covered more than trousers did, it highlighted her most delectable curves and femininity in an unexpected way. For some reason, the thought of stripping her out of that dress did more to fire his lust than peeling off her trousers and tunic had.
With a satisfied grunt, he noted she didn’t appear to have accumulated any more injuries either. She even seemed to be moving easier, with less stiffness than earlier in the day.
Once upstairs, she went to the room where he’d stashed the vessel rather than the bedroom where he’d treated her wounds. He’d figured out that was her former bedroom and really couldn’t blame her for not wanting to spend too much time there.
“So,” he urged when she settled onto a comfortable but dusty chair near the ceramic heater in one corner of the room. He wasn’t quite ready to sit yet so he moved close to the window and leaned against the wall, alternating between watching the street and looking at Mina.
“So. The battle is still active at the border. Seems it was a full-on Sinnale assault, and they’ve pushed farther into Sorcerer territory than during any previous assault.”
“That’s good news,” he commented. “Wonder why, though. Why strike now and risk more lives when what we’re bringing back will end things without so many deaths?”
She shrugged. “You can ask the council when we return. I did hear suggestions that an elf was involved on the Sinnale side of things, though.”
His lips compressed. “Ulric.” Of course. “What else did you hear?”
“Everyone knows a Sorcerer died. The servants are saying two of the traitor elves turned on her and they all killed each other in the ensuing fight.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. Even if the other Sorcerers suspect what’s really happened—and they’ll know the List is gone by now—they won’t want anyone else to know about the List so can’t even hint at the true story. They probably started the rumors you’re hearing.”
“Likely,” she agreed, shifting in her seat.
The movement caught his attention and he frowned. “Did you get the potion for your cuts? Do you need help administering it?”
She shook her head. “No, the Chemist actually helped with the worst cuts. They just sting a little, is all.”
“Oh, he helped did he?”
She raised her brows at his tone. “It’s one of the things he does for the pain-pleasure servants. Treats the wounds that are the worst. He did tell me the Sorcerer had pushed me too far for someone new to the task and I should be more careful.”
Althir snorted at that. “Like the servants have a say.”
“My thoughts exactly, though I kept that observation to myself. I was too busy playing humble pain whore to start an argument.”
He took a closer look at her neck, but the angle of her head kept him from seeing the thin slice there. Crossing to her, he took her chin in his hand and lifted. She jerked away with a scowl, but he’d seen what he wanted to. The cut on her neck was nearly gone.
“I’ll give him this, the Chemist does good work.”
“Yes, he does. All the cuts will be healed within the next few hours. Even the worst of them will just be red scars.”
“Good,” he said emphatically. “What else did you learn?”
“There are whispers…worries among the servants. No one wanted to speak outright for fear of being overheard by the wrong person, but there was a lot of innuendo that the war had gone wrong and the Sorcerers weren’t as strong as they used to be. The death of the one last night, at the hands of traitor elves, no less, seems to confirm for them that the occupation is in trouble.”
Althir finally sat on the bed. “Seems your people are making an impact.”
“Thanks to you.”
Her comment surprised him so much he could only blink at her.
She shifted in her seat again and picked at the chair’s armrest. “I…I wanted to apologize for…earlier. I was angry about… Well, anyway, I was tired and not thinking clearly enough, and I let my temper get the best of me. No matter what you’d intended when you joined with the traitors, your information since turning yourself over to the Sinnale has been invaluable. I shouldn’t have disregarded that.”
He narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “I’ve figured out this was your former home,” he said quietly. “I imagine that didn’t help your state of mind.”
“No,” she said with a harsh snort. “No, it didn’t. How did you know?”
“There’s a picture of you and your family in one of the rooms.”
She pulled in a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly, audibly.
“Why did you bring us here if being here is so hard on you?”
“Because it was familiar and I hoped it would be safe.” She shrugged. “I didn’t anticipate my reaction to coming back would be so…extreme.”
“When were you last here?”
“We left during the first weeks of the invasion, and I haven’t been back since.”
“Your family was killed then?”
“No. Just my mother.”
He watched her throat work as she swallowed. Every part of him wanted to go to her and pull her into his arms. Instead, he stayed where he was, afraid to break the truce they’d managed to strike.
She shrugged and looked out the window rather than at him. “My father…” Another deep breath. “Not long after the traitor elves joined the Sorcerers, my father was taken by one of them, lured across the border and into Sorcerers’ hands.”
Althir held himself very still as her w
ords washed over him, realizing now why she harbored so much hate for the traitors—why she’d hated him so much at their first meeting.
“After he was taken, my brother decided he could rescue him, that the point of luring him using elven magic was to use him as a sacrifice—he was too old to make a good minion. Tom insisted there was time to get our father out. So long as he was still alive, there was time.”
Her mouth trembled. “None of us took the loss of my mother well. Tom maybe worse than my father, though, because he’d been so close with her. I don’t think he could tolerate the idea of losing our father too.”
“So he went after your father. Alone?”
She nodded.
“He was taken too.” Althir didn’t have to ask. She’d already told him her family was dead.
“I didn’t hear from either one of them for three weeks. And then I saw Tom again.” Her breathing shook now, and a gleam of moisture filled her eyes. “He’d been turned into a minion. I watched him march right past me, while I was pretending to be a kitchen wench. He already had the first stink of rotten meat, the faint hint of red in his eyes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That wasn’t the worst moment.” She scrubbed her eyes with her palms. “The worst moment was facing him in a skirmish. I was on my way back to Sinnale territory, in Noman’s Land with a Sinnale patrol when the minion patrol found us and attacked. Tom was among them. He looked right at me, stared me right in the eyes. And tried to stab his sword through my chest. I was so shocked I probably would have let him but one of the other soldiers intercepted his blade. I just stood there. Watching them fight, watching as my rescuer sliced my brother open, spilling his guts onto the cobbles.”
Her entire body was trembling now, and Althir couldn’t keep his distance any longer. He snatched her out of the chair before she could protest, returned to the bed and sat with her in his lap, holding her close and rocking her gently. He expected her to push him away. He had no right to presume he could comfort her. Instead, she clutched his shirt and curled against him, pressing her face into his chest.
