by Debra Dunbar
“Yes. We have a deal.”
Taullian’s subdued tone with its note of resignation revealed his difficult position. His dispassionate gaze roamed over me, cataloguing my injures I assumed. “Two?”
“Two,” Feille confirmed. “Level twelve or above.
Taullian nodded. “As you wish.” His voice was subservient and defeated.
Well, this was out of the frying pan and into the fire. I’d just dispatched Feille’s only sorcerer, but the elven lord quickly recovered. From the conversation, I gathered he was trading me to Taullian for not just one, but two high-level sorcerers. Instead of months, I’d only have weeks at the most to get the warning out, and I’d be as unlikely to do it from Taullian’s dungeon as from Feille’s.
Feille and about half the guards left the dungeon, leaving Taullian and what I assumed were his staff. I heard a heavy sigh.
“Unlock the gate.”
My heart leapt with futile hope. I may be collared and facing a high lord, six magic users, and three elven guards, but those odds weren’t as daunting as one might think. Demons lived for risk. Unfortunately, as I was currently a black and blue pretzel, the odds were too unfavorable, even for a reckless imp.
“Net her,” Taullian said.
Fuck. Collared and netted. Pond scum or living dead girl was looking better and better. The guard came toward me, and I shot out a hand to grab his ankle. He gasped and jerked, pulling easily from my grasp and kicking my face. It was a glancing blow, but combined with my current injuries it was too much. I retched, but there was nothing in my stomach to vomit. I was too physically weak to take any advantage. I felt the net fall over me, itchy against my bare skin, the magic like a thousand pricks of a nettle.
“Can you heal her?” Taullian’s voice sounded disinterested, as if he were asking a purely academic question.
There was silence for a few moments as the figures moved around me, assessing. “I don’t know, my lord. We have some healing spells for humans but have never had to use them on a demon before. They always fix themselves.”
There was a moment of silence. “We will remove the net and the collar to give you an opportunity to fix your physical wounds. If you even look like you’re about to attack us, we’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I doubted I could fix myself. I might be able to transform myself into healthy pond scum or a lizard, but I was terrified that if I left this human form, I’d never be able to assume it again. I’d killed the sorcerer who’d transformed me into a human and had a bad feeling I couldn’t do it myself. I’d try my hardest to fix any injuries, but if I couldn’t, I’d remain like this until they healed naturally.
“My Lord, I advise you not do this. Wait until we have her safely back in Cyelle. I don’t trust her.”
“We can’t move her like this. I don’t want her to die before I have a chance to make her regret what she’s done to me and the elves of Cyelle.”
I felt their disapproval and fear, but they obeyed, lifting the net and examining the collar around my neck.
“How… how do we remove this thing?” one of the guards asked, running a finger around the circlet in search of a catch. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Let me.”
I recognized that voice and blinked in surprise to see a mage I knew come forward. Kirby. He avoided my gaze and instead knelt down to examine the circlet.
“It’s a form of angel energy,” I told him, my voice raw. “Attached to a magical device similar to your nets. There are tiny gaps in the energy—the biggest is where the catch is.”
Kirby’s eyes met mine, and I was warmed by the sympathy in them. “Is there an incantation? How do I get it off?”
I shook my head, wincing at the pain rattling through my skull. “Not sure. Mages can remove and attach them, and I’ve seen elves do it too, so I think it’s a physical sort of latch. Whatever it is, I’ve never been able to activate it.”
“Got it,” Kirby said, his fingers halting along the back of the collar. With a snap, he’d removed it and held it before him in wonderment. “Tricky bit of magic. Anyone can latch it, but it takes a human or elf to allow the physical latch to release.”
The guard got up and backed away. Kirby gave him a quick glance and did the same. “You should be able to repair yourself now.”
Yeah. In theory. I closed my eyes and reached within myself, gathering the energy from the air around me. I’d done this a million times in my life. Created new molecules, replace all the damaged structures with new ones. It was as easy as breathing.
But it seems breathing was the only skill remaining to me. I felt a spark, gloried in the creation, then felt it all slip away like water through my fingers. I tried again, and again, hearing the uneasy movements of the elves and magic users as they watched me.
“Perhaps Lord Feille was speaking the truth? Why would she remain injured like that?”
Idiots. But I’d rather they think me obstinate, or playing some convoluted game, than know how damaged I truly was. I tried again. Little improvements, but nothing major. Ribs were partially repaired, spleen good as new, concussion on the mend. If I had a few days, I might be able to fix everything on my own. This was definitely progress, but taking a few days to repair injuries could spell the difference between life and death.
“Leave. Everyone except Sylvia. Wait for me outside the dungeon.”
I heard a collective gasp at Taullian’s command and knew he must have silenced any protests.
“I am perfectly capable of defending myself against one little imp. Go.”
I opened my eyes and saw the guards leave, Kirby casting me a quick look as he went with them. Taullian approached, a female magic user by his side. She looked uneasy, clutching a wand tightly in one hand, bunching her robes in a fist.
“Cover me,” Taullian said, and Sylvia pointed a nervous wand at my head.
The elf lord bent down, a golden glow covering his hand as he ran it a few inches over my body. “She’s managed to partially repair her wounds,” he mused. “But I wonder….”
I felt a sizzling warmth beneath my skin, heating me down into my spirit self. His hand reached down to probe my shoulder, then down along my side. “I can’t really tell, but I suspect some injuries are beyond the flesh,” Taullian commented to the mage.
“I definitely cannot heal her spirit being, my Lord,” she pronounced, her tone respectful but assured. “I could try the human healing spell and see if it restores her corporeal form to health.”
The elf lord glanced up at her, his expression admiring, as if she were a valued piece of art. “You are my best healer, Sylvia. I have no doubt you could restore her physical self.”
She beamed. “I would be happy to try, my Lord.”
Taullian hesitated a moment. “No.” His voice sounded oddly distracted. “Save your magic. You’ll need everything you’ve got soon enough. I’ll do it myself.”
I caught my breath. Elves were very private about their magic and their abilities. When needed, they always relied on their human mages and sorcerers. Beyond my recent fight with Feille, I’d never actually seen one use any of their gifts and had no idea the extent of their powers.
“Leave us.” Taullian commanded. His deep voice lacked its usual firmness.
“Are you sure, My Lord? Should I net her first? Put the collar back on?”
“Leave us.” This time he sounded tired.
Sylvia jumped to her feet, robes swaying around her legs in a blur of embroidered blue. She bowed deeply before Taullian and left. The dungeon door clanged, and I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“I am a fool to trust you once again, Az,” the elf told me. “Twice you have bitten me—once literally, and once in deceit and treachery. Yet the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and I would dearly love to hurl your chaos into the battlefield.”
Under normal circumstances, he would be a fool to trust me. Right now, I was far more interested in him healing me than attempting to take him out. That could w
ait until five seconds after he healed me.
As his hands moved down my body, I felt warmth seep through my skin and deep into my bones. It was pleasant, and my mind floated, feeling relief from pain. Everything tingled. It was like being mildly drunk, buzzed from a few shots of vodka. There were no words in his spell like there were in human magic. My flesh rolled against bone, bone slid against flesh, knitting and healing in a dance of golden warmth. My mind cleared and I saw Taullian as he continued to work his hands along my body, hovering them a fraction of an inch above my naked skin. A golden glow shone as a buffer between us, glittering like dust motes in the morning sunlight.
My eyes traveled up him as he worked, taking in the draped clothing all elves wore, fresh and unwrinkled. They were always that way. Weeks of travel, and they never stank of sweat and dirt, never looked greasy or in need of a bath. Their clothing always looked freshly laundered, their hair shining and clean. But his face—the elf lord looked as if he’d aged three centuries since I’d seen him last. His mouth was a tight, narrow line, skin creased at either edge, his eyelids heavy—dark underneath and slightly swollen. Lines ran across his forehead and dove down into a deep V between his brows. He was an asshole, just not as much of an asshole as Feille. Maybe he was right and the enemy of my enemy could be an ally.
“There,” he pronounced, rising. He didn’t look at my face, didn’t even bother to meet my gaze so intent on him. “At least I can be confident you’ll survive the journey now.”
“We’re not going to gate?” I’d decided to hold back on my impulse to attack him and attempt an escape. His staff were right outside the dungeon, ready to race in if needed, and I had a feeling Taullian would be of more use to me alive.
He shook his head. “I can’t waste the magic or my people’s energy.”
He fingered the net and the collar, and I held my breath, trying to decide if it would be in my best interests to let him confine me with them, or fight for short-lived freedom. Luckily I didn’t have to choose. He dropped both back onto the stone floor.
Without another word, he left, shutting the cell door firmly behind him. I had no idea when we were supposed to travel. I was starving, but otherwise physically fine. If only my spirit self were as fit. Everything inside my flesh ached with a dull throb. Scar tissue was once again forming over the sections that had cracked and re-opened with the sorcerer’s spells, and I felt an uncomfortable tightness once again. My stomach growled loudly as I lay naked on the cold stone floor. Would I ever be right, or would I spend the rest of my life with little more than the skills and abilities of the human form I now wore? If so, it would probably be a very short life.
10
Taullian and his traveling party came in the next morning, bringing an array of food. My stomach clenched at the smell, and I hated them for torturing me so.
“Feed her,” the high lord commanded. “Then we will discuss transportation options.”
Kirby came toward me in a swish of robes, a platter of food in his hands. He looked good—tired and stressed, as they all did, but pretty much the same Kirby I’d seen before. I had made good on the favor I’d promised when I’d last seen him, delivering to his parents both his note and the marble he’d been carrying when he’d fallen through the elf gates. It had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I hated seeing the pain on their faces, imagining how I’d feel if it were someone I loved, long gone and presumed dead. Kirby met my eyes and gave a nearly unperceivable shake of his head. Here, at last, was someone on my side, someone I could trust. He could let Dar and my household know where I was, have them contact Wyatt, have Wyatt warn Gregory. I slumped in a relief I hadn’t felt in months.
“Just drag her behind the horses,” one of the elves mentioned. I started , realized they were debating my transportation.
Taullian pursed his lips. “She’d take injury and be unable to fix herself in the confines of the net. I don’t want to risk removing it for her to repair her injuries.”
Why was he covering for me? He knew I was struggling to repair myself, and here he was, blaming it all on the net and his safety concerns so his elven staff didn’t know how dire my situation really was. Why?
“Here.” Kirby pushed the plate toward me. I didn’t even bother to thank him, so intent was I on shoveling the contents into my mouth. I was starving and beyond my physical needs; I hadn’t had the joy of consuming food in months. The sensation of it in my mouth, the fullness in my belly all felt incredible.
“My Lord, a net can be modified so she can walk,” another elf said.
“An excellent idea, but it will delay our journey considerably and our time is running out.”
An excellent idea? I choked on the slab of cheese. What the fuck? Elf lords ruled with an iron fist, or they didn’t rule for long. Where was this collaborative Taullian coming from?
Kirby went to pull the plate back, and I snatched the remaining food from it, cramming it in my mouth. He chuckled.
“There will be more, I promise. Just hold tight and keep silent. He needs you. Desperately needs you.”
Needs me? What. The. Fuck?
Kirby cast a quick sideways glance at his lord. “I’ve told him things. He doesn’t trust you, but he’s out of options. You’re all he has left.”
Before I could swallow my food enough to speak, Kirby had taken the plate and walked back to the others. Four scouts, skilled in forest travel, two mages, and four guards. Not the biggest entourage I’d ever seen with an elven high lord. I assessed Taullian, surveying his posture and expression. He still looked drawn and tired, tense as a strung bow, but there was something calculating in his air. Could this small group be his way of appearing harmless to Feille?
“My Lord, I could give up my horse and she could ride across his back. Llualia has a strong mount that can carry two of us as I lead the demon on mine. We can use the collar on her, now that we know how to put it on and remove it.”
I felt Taullian’s approval. Actually felt it. The glow of his elven magic radiated from him and the others leaned toward him in a strange sort of bonding I’d never seen before. It made me realize how little I really knew about the elves, how secretive they had been about their powers and society while seeming to reveal all.
“By the Goddess, I think that will work. Thank you, Spriggh for your offer, and thank you Llualia for allowing your mount to carry double during this long journey. I truly appreciate your dedication and loyalty.”
It seemed to be an over-the-top speech, as if he were laying it on too thick, but I didn’t get that feeling at all from Taullian or his elves. They accepted his praise like a corporate team, ready to get out the flip charts, ven diagrams, and call in for a lunch delivery.
The six-day trip from jail cell to jail cell was uneventful and uncomfortable. Riding from sunup to sundown draped over the back of a horse with my head and arms dangling down one side and my legs the other wasn’t dignified. And it fucking hurt. Bound and wearing the collar, I had a limited a range of motion and was unable to fix any bruises or pulled muscles. I couldn’t stretch my limbs or relieve the pressure against my abdomen for hours at a time. By day two I was thinking this qualified as one of the most horrendous forms of torture ever. I made a mental note to remember it.
My new captors had the courtesy to let me off the horse when they made camp, dumping me in a centralized area to better keep an eye on me. I had food and water, and at least the collar allowed me to see what was going on, unlike the elven nets. The view from the back of the horse had not been very enlightening, but once the elves, and few humans with them, settled in for the evening, I observed. The first night, everyone carefully watched their words, glancing frequently over to me, but by day three, they’d begun to ignore me. I held as still as I could, quiet and unthreatening in my chains and tried to glean as much information as possible.
It wasn’t much. The elves were scared. Worried what Feille would do to their kingdom even with the treaty. They grumbled that Taullian hadn�
��t made a stand against Wythyn’s aggression like a proper high lord should, but they still followed him, still kept some hope in their hearts that he’d pull through for them. The humans were mostly silent, casting defeated looks at each other. I knew what their fate would probably be. Feille would claim them all as spoils of war, as some sort of tribute, taking them from their current owners and gifting them to his key supporters. Nyalla had detailed Wythyn’s uncaring attitude toward humans, and I’d seen it firsthand. Even those with magical ability were treated as animals. Tolerated… until they stepped out of line, then “justice” was swift and brutal.
Kirby and another mage were the highest ranking of the humans, and I watched them move among the elves, sharing casual conversation before moving off to sit by themselves. They weren’t the same level as the other humans and not welcomed fully by the elves. It had to have been a lonely existence.
All talk was on the fate of the kingdom, of their families, of what their futures might hold. There was no mention of Feille’s scheme to move against the demons, or his larger plans to eventually take the Northern elven kingdoms. For a megalomaniac like Feille to keep such grand schemes secret, there had to have been a weakness. Something wasn’t ready, or wasn’t working quite right. Otherwise he would have shouted it from the rooftops. It gave me hope that perhaps I had a bit of time beyond that which killing his sorcerer had bought me.
I couldn’t see the city in the distance as we approached, couldn’t see anything beyond the forest under my horse turn to grassy field, then to a well-worn dirt path. There were shouts of greeting. We halted as the gates were opened. Then I had a lovely view of the cobblestones under my horse as we made our way through the city streets toward Taullian’s palace. They untied me and hauled me, still shackled and collared, off my horse. Netting me, which was a completely unnecessary precaution, they proceeded to drag me along a rough, hard floor to yet another dungeon. The gate clanged behind me, and I wondered if they intended to keep me in the collar and the net.
