Bound to the Elvin King

by Lisa Kumar

  Sense forced itself back into her mind, and she sat up straighter. She needed to consider the source of this newest bombshell because Alalise would definitely be biased. Sure, Talion had some explaining to do, but whose word did she trust more? Alalise’s or Talion’s? That was a no-brainer even in spite of his announcement. Alalise might want Talion’s happiness, but whenever she was around Maggie, the bitterness and superiority positively leaked off her.

  Maggie could well be playing into her hands by believing the worst of Talion. Since Talion had no interest in his ex-lover sexually any more, she could well be resorting to half-truths and manipulations to gain the upper hand with Maggie. And so far, it’d been working. Well, no more. She was taking back control with two hands. Talion and Alalise had something coming to them if they believed they held all the cards. Maggie smiled in spite of herself. It felt great to have a plan of action. Though her anger still remained, she had to look to the future. She’d get the truth from Talion about his relationship with his ex, and if his answer were acceptable, that would be his first redeeming step. The one of many.

  She hoisted herself off the bench and headed for the closest hallway entrance. Unfamiliar corridors were no match for her. She had an elvin king to conquer and claim.

  As she headed toward the door, the crunch of gravel alerted her that someone was nearby. A quick glance around the courtyard revealed nothing. Maggie shrugged off the uneasy feeling. It probably was just a sentry. They tended to hide in the oddest places, all in the name of protecting the palace and their king.

  But once she stepped inside, the feeling didn’t leave. The hair on her arms prickled. Was there a draft in here or what? She rubbed her arms nervously, not slowing her pace. God, was she paranoid much?

  As she rounded a corner, the click of a door shutting from somewhere behind her sounded. Fright burrowed into her bones. Could it be the person from the garden? She wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  Soft footsteps, nearly indecipherable, floated from behind.

  Every shadow became a potential danger. Her breath quickened, along with her steps. An overwhelming sense of urgency flooded every fiber of her body. Damn, where were her guards? Oh yeah, she’d ditched them. Not smart, Maggie.

  She needed to find Talion. Now. Never mind she’d been angry with him only minutes ago. Now their argument seemed almost silly in the face of her terror, and she knew, no matter what, he’d protect her with his life.

  A hand gripped her shoulder. She screamed shrilly as her heart nearly jumped through her throat before she whirled around.

  A wash of relief hit her. It was just Alanon, which was saying a lot. Normally, she wouldn’t be happy to see him, but in this instance, she’d take whatever she could get. At least, he was somewhat of a known quantity, even if an unpredictable one.

  “My Queen.” A slow smile spread over his lips. “What are you doing wandering this section of the palace? And where is your guard? I trust they know better than to let you roam free.”

  Yeah, like she trusted him enough to tell him the truth. “They’re somewhere around here. After all, I’m not a prisoner. They know how to make themselves scarce.”

  “Maybe it would be best if they did keep you prisoner.”

  Another person who wanted to lock her up? She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Only that if they kept better watch, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  She backed up a step, a tremor of unease snaking through her nerves. “What wouldn’t be happening?”

  “Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

  Annoyance and fear clamored within her. To hell with this, she wouldn’t stand here and let him freak her out. “While I’d like to continue this pleasant conversation with you, I really must go.”

  He smiled good-naturedly. “I’d much rather you stay. It would make things much easier.”

  Fear spiked to alarm. That was it. She wasn’t going to remain and see what he had lined up on his agenda. She bolted away from him, but he grabbed her around the waist. His arms closed like a vice around her ribcage, where her heart pounded for release.

  Her leg instinctively kicked back. He grunted but managed to miss most of the impact, damn it. She struggled within his arms, not that it did her one bit of good. Steel had to be weaker than his muscles. “What the hell are you doing? Let me go.” She tried to keep her voice even, but it quavered.

  “I can’t do that.” He pressed a cloth over her mouth. The cloying scent of some medicinal concoction infiltrated her senses. She screamed, but the sound came out muffled and only allowed more of the substance saturating the cloth into her mouth.

  His breath puffed against her ear, and his hand tightened over her lips. “Sorry it has to be this way,” he whispered.

  She was so scared that every cell she possessed should be shaking, but all was eerily quiet within her. Only her desperate thoughts ran rampant, while her body felt heavy and foreign. Darkness crept over her until it swallowed her whole.

  ***

  Consciousness seeped back into Maggie’s brain. She frowned. Why did her normally comfy bed feel so hard?

  She shifted, and her fingers touched rough material. Rough material? Where were her soft sheets? Her eyelids fluttered but refused to lift. Hadn’t she been drinking the night before? Or could she have a touch of something? After all, she’d been nauseous for the last week or so. But then, maybe it was just Talion-troubles messing with her stomach. They sure did a number on her mind.

  What time was it? Night? No light filtered in through her lids. She attempted to lift herself up on her arms, but her lethargic muscles protested. Definitely not normal. She felt drugged.

  Drugged. The word gouged into her mind like an aching wound. She felt like she should remember something—something important. What had she last been— Remembrance swept over her in a rush, pulling her under a tidal wave of memories. Her breath came in quick gasps as images inundated her.

  First her run-in with Alalise and then Alanon. Him acting shady before placing a cloth soaked with something over her mouth and her losing consciousness.

  Panic screamed through her veins. Where was she? Her damn eyes still wouldn’t open. And a heavy sensation pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breath. Was that due to the bond freaking out or something Alanon had done? Or was she hyperventilating?

  “Ah, our most precious queen is finally waking up.”

  The voice cut through her frantic thoughts, and her movements stilled. The man sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t grasp where she’d heard it before.

  Someone fisted a hand in her hair and yanked her upright, only to prop her up against a cold surface. Agony seared her scalp, and tears welled in her eyes. She slouched forward a bit. Surprisingly, her muscles held her up, though they spasmed painfully. But her eyelids still wouldn’t cooperate.

  “What? No hello for me?” the mocking voice asked.

  Maggie gritted her teeth against the pain still stinging her scalp and body. Whoever the voice belonged to was a vicious asshole. She cleared her throat, testing if her vocal cords would even work. They did, though her voice came out scratchy. “First off, I don’t greet buttholes. And second, I don’t know what asswipe is holding me here.”

  He cuffed her cheek and left a slicing pain along the skin. Stars blossomed behind her closed eyelids. She winced. Maybe talking back wasn’t the wisest choice. He must’ve been wearing a ring that contained some kind of stone, if her stinging cheek was anything to go by.

  “Now, that’s no way to talk to the future King of Eria.”

  Surprise coursed through her mind. Future king? That would be Relian at some point. No way was it him talking, though. Not only was the voice totally wrong, but he also would never do such a thing. Who was the suspect, then?

  “I see your feeble little mind hasn’t worked out my identity yet. Not surprising, given your human blood.”

  Suddenly, all the pieces fit. It was his voice. Eamon, the psy
cho who’d tried to kill Cal because he hadn’t liked the idea of her “dirtying” the royal line with her humanness.

  The blood in Maggie’s face drained, leaving her skin cold except for her burning cheek. Shit, she was so screwed, with no way to get out until someone rescued her.

  “Do you know who I am, little girl?”

  “Eamon,” she said, keeping her voice monotone, though what she really wanted to do was scream at him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her fear or anger, the last of which might cause him to hit her again.

  “Smarter than I anticipated. But Talion wouldn’t be attracted to a complete idiot. The wonder is that he looked past your race.”

  She kept quiet. What was she supposed to say? Thanks?

  “But it doesn’t matter. You won’t be alive for much longer, and neither will he.”

  Her heart nearly stopped within her chest. He planned on murdering Talion? No matter what Talion had done, the idea of anyone hurting him pierced Maggie’s heart like a spear.

  With more power than she thought she had at the moment, she whipped up her head. Her lids crept open, though lead weights seemed to hold them down. Once she had sight, she glared at the elf who looked spookily like Relian. But Eamon’s black heart made Relian a thousand times better looking. “You think you can get rid of Talion?”

  “Of course. It was always just a matter of time. You, my dear, just moved up the day of his demise. So I must thank you on that account.”

  She shivered. His use of “my dear” gave her the creeps, so different from Talion’s expression of the endearment, which enraged her sometimes but always made her hot, too.

  “No protest over the upcoming death of your lover? Not one plea for his safety?”

  So he wanted to see her beg? She was smarter than that. “It wouldn’t do any good.”

  “Maybe not, but it might keep you alive longer.”

  Demean herself to stay alive a bit longer? Somehow she didn’t think she had to fear for her life until Talion organized a rescue for her. Why would Eamon kidnap and hold her hostage if he were seriously contemplating killing her before help arrived? He wouldn’t. Eamon had to be hoping to lure Talion here—wherever here was. Otherwise, she’d already be dead.

  A quick look around the area showed that she was in some kind of stone room. Dark, glittering rock comprised the walls, ceiling, and floor. Maybe she was in some kind of cave? The chamber contained only the bed she was on and a chest. All in all, not very sumptuous accommodations. And there was no way to tell if it were night or day outside.

  She turned her gaze back to Eamon, the jerk face. “Keep me alive longer? Forgive me if I don’t trust you,” Maggie said, forcing a dry note into her voice.

  He tilted his head back and laughed. “Too bad you’re human.” Sobering, he looked at her with way too much interest. “You do have a certain quality that grabs attention.”

  Bile rose in her throat. God, no. Tell me he’s not going to rape me.

  He must’ve read her repugnance and horror because he sent her a derisive smile. “Don’t worry. I don’t bed mongrels, which as a human, you are.”

  Thank God for her humanity.

  “But if you don’t cooperate, I know other males who would be happy to.”

  Though she tried to show no reaction, a shiver racked her body, and her stomach churned. Surely he wouldn’t…. Who was she kidding? He’d kill her once her usefulness had ended, so why would he bother to stop that feared violation from occurring?

  “Don’t scare the human, Eamon.” The voice came from an open door at the front of the room.

  Maggie gasped. An elf stood just over the threshold, and in the shadows, he looked so like…. “Talion?”

  Chapter 21

  Talion sighed, sweeping his gaze over the horde assembled in the great hall. The farmer standing before him said something, and Talion nodded absentmindedly. Whoever had started the tradition of holding a Harvest Evening Court should be skewered. The session was stretching on and shredding his nerves. Unease skittered over the tenuous hold he had, but he ignored it. All was well, with Maggie safe in her room. Her guard stood outside her door.

  Was she still— Inane question, of course she remained angry. And he didn’t even need the bond to know that, only common sense. He sensed no emotion coming through their link, which meant she was surely in a numbing sleep. For many hours, a great disquiet had flowed to him. Then the emotion had peaked before falling off sharply. Only his duty to the Harvest Evening Court, along with the knowledge he should let her rest, had stopped him from running to her side.

  He shivered. The remembrance of that horrible feeling still bit into his consciousness with every beat of his heart. Guilt pummeled his heart. He shoved it away. Duty now.

  After the court was over, he’d go to her and try to repair things between them as much as possible. He’d make her understand there were some issues afoot that simply were safer for her not to know. But he’d divulge what he could without placing her in further jeopardy.

  The farmer’s wife, a seamstress, jerked his attention back to the Court when she mentioned Maggie. “—allowing me to create Queen Margaret’s wardrobe. Your generosity humbles me.”

  She beamed at Talion, surely appreciating the ample coin he’d provided for her services. He’d chosen Marinna, a talented but relatively unknown seamstress, to make Maggie’s wardrobe from the first. His patronage now assured her good fortunes for many years to come.

  He gave Marinna a true smile. “Your beautiful designs do my queen justice, and I’d want none other on her.” Or off her.

  Marinna curtsied. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  After she and her husband left, others quickly took their place, and Talion’s thoughts again slid to Maggie. Though he needed to focus on his people right now, no matter how he tried, thoughts of her occupied his mind, nearly crowding out everything else. Was this what obsession felt like? Because the urge to track Maggie down was overpowering. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, wishing she were here, anger and all.

  Maggie’s absence was conspicuous, but he hadn’t even bothered to mention the Court to her. If anything, she should be appreciative. The repetitive scraping and bowing of his subjects left a strained grimace on his face. Accepting their greetings and well wishes for his prosperous rule, not to mention the new bond, had to be done with complete magnanimity.

  During a lull in conversation, Baltor strode up before the dais and bowed. “Your Majesty, where is the…queen?”

  Talion stiffened. The way Baltor had voiced his question made it sound like a challenge and an insult at the same time. And his voice had carried far farther than Talion liked, if all the heads swiveling in their direction was any indication. If the fool thought to profit from his preoccupation, he would be proven wrong.

  Leveling a cool stare on Baltor, Talion made him wait for a response until the other man dropped his gaze. “Her majesty is not required yet to be in attendance at any event or meeting.”

  “I would think our queen would be eager to learn all she could about Eria and our ways. I do hope she plans to come to council meetings,” Baltor said, an ill-concealed smirk on his face.

  Talion shrugged, though he fumed inside. If Baltor didn’t stop this line of attack, he’d lose more than his council member seat. But Talion wouldn’t allow either of them to make a public scene here. “Even once the time comes where she feels comfortable enough to pick up the reins of her position, she need not make an appearance at every meeting. Queen Serrina barely attended council meetings unless her presence was requested.”

  Baltor inclined his head. “Of course, how forgetful I am.” The fake acquiescence in his tone said otherwise.

  “I see that. I do hope you’ll…remember better next time.” Remember who was king, in other words.

  His intent must’ve been clear, for Baltor’s smile faltered. “Yes, Sire.”

  Before Talion could dismiss him, the gold flash off of a royal gua
rd’s breastplate caught his eye. Maggie’s grave-faced guards walked up to them in a quick march. Dread formed so deep, it twisted Talion’s stomach into knots. Maggie. For her guard to have deserted their post, something dire had to have occurred.

  Jocin stepped forward and bowed, “Your Majesty, if I may have a word alone with you?”

  Talion’s tongue suddenly felt thick and clunky, but somehow he got the words out. “Of course.”

  Behind the dais was a semi-private spot, so Talion and the three royal guards congregated there. He rounded on them, his calm façade slipping. “Her majesty is well?”

  Jocin looked at him with worried eyes. “She’s not in her room.”

  “Not in her room?” Talion parroted back the words. How could that be? She’d been sleeping. He’d checked that she was in— No, he hadn’t. Horror flooded every fiber of his being. He’d been about to verify her location using the bond, but one of his councilors had interrupted him with a minor emergency.

  Swallowing down his dread, he accessed the bond, only for it to reveal nothing. He couldn’t locate her, which meant she was out of the bond’s reach and not merely asleep somewhere in the palace. The reality of the situation slammed into him, and fright exploded in his veins. His knees went weak.

  She was out of her room, loose somewhere outside the palace. All because he’d shown her how to bypass all the public routes. She surely used the secret passage from her chamber, and could now be in anywhere in Eriannon. But if she’d merely escaped to town, why was the panic rising up in his chest faster than a surging tide?