Long Live the Elf Queen: The Elf Queen Book 2
Long Live the Elf Queen: Chapter 4

Layala gaped at the bruises and cuts and how thin Piper was. Her cheeks were hollowed out and the clothes hung loosely off her body. Oh, Piper. She cried in the tower feeling sorry for herself when Piper had clearly endured much worse. Yet, she lifted her chin defiantly, prepared to die. A lump rose in Layala’s throat, and she slowly stood. She desperately wanted to go to her friend but the knife resting against Piper’s delicate neck held her back. “Please, release her. This has nothing to do with her.”

“Her fate is entirely up to you,” Tenebris said with a sneer. He twisted his narrow shoulders to get a better view of Piper and gave a quick nod to the guards holding her. The blade pressed harder, drawing a line of blood.

“No!” Layala pleaded. Her legs felt weak again. Despite Piper’s wishes, she couldn’t let this happen. Think, Layala, think!

Mathekis smiled, revealing the sharp points of his teeth again. “Bleeding hearts are so easy to manipulate. So, you agree to do as you’re told?”

Layala felt the food she just ate wanting to come back up. “Why are you doing this when you can just tell me to do it?” If she could stall for another day, she could replace a way out of here.

Mathekis stared at her, pinning her with those wholly black eyes. “Why not?” He shifted in the chair, and it quietly creaked under his muscular frame. “I do have the time to break you if you’d rather sacrifice your friends than simply agree. I don’t care which path you choose although this one is much more fun.”

Break me? She didn’t want to know what that might entail but bringing back the Black Mage would cost much more than Piper’s life. Why hadn’t Varlett called in the bargain she made? She glanced at the dragon shifter. Layala owed her a favor. She mentioned it in the woods just before she—shoved her hand through Thane. Those talons wrapped around the goblet of wine showed no signs of the damage she did. Where was her mother’s willow necklace she stole? Was it destroyed for good?

King Tenebris groaned and shot to his feet. He slammed a hand on the table, shaking the glassware. With his palms flat against the white tablecloth, he leaned heavily forward inching toward Layala. She forced herself not to recoil. “I will throw you in a prison cart and kill every last person you know. Is that clear?”

Piper and Layala shared a look, and she gave a slight shake of her head. Damn it. She couldn’t let Piper sacrifice herself for this. There must be another way. If she agreed, she’d buy more time to figure something out.

Tenebris swiped his arm across the table, knocking down three goblets of wine. One fell to the floor and shattered. Layala jumped at the sound of glass breaking. The liquid spilling onto the floor was loud in the following silence. “Kill her!”

“Wait, wait,” Layala pleaded. “I-I’ll do it. Just don’t kill her.”

Further sagging in the guards’ arms, Piper looked utterly defeated. Layala glanced over at Aldrich; even after his betrayal she still wanted him to help. Look at Piper, she silently pleaded. Aldrich only stared at the wine spilling onto the floor. Coward.

Varlett tapped her talons on the white, stained tablecloth. “Pity,” she cooed. “I thought we’d at least get to drink the redhead’s blood.” Leaning back in her seat with a lazy grin, Varlett said to Mathekis, “I’ll meet you downstairs. We have things to discuss in private.” Her chair screeched on the stone as she pushed away from the table, and whisked from the room in a graceful, silent gait.

“This meeting is over.” Mathekis stepped away from the table. “Remember what I said about hurting her, King.” When the pale general was gone, Tenebris waved a hand at his guards to send Piper away.

“Don’t do it, Layala,” she shouted over her shoulder. “He will come for you!” One of the guards tied a gag around her mouth and the door slammed behind them.

Still standing, Layala stepped back from the table and stood behind her chair. It felt safer to have a barrier between her and the king. The wine staining the tablecloth looked like blood and all she could think about was seeing Thane unmoving, scarlet liquid pooling around him. The agony on his face when Varlett tore her hand free of him. The gaping hole she felt in her own chest now—that missing part of him.

Warm breath washed over the back of her neck, and every part of her tensed. Tenebris roughly wrapped a hand under her chin and squeezed her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. Even with the hatred burning in her eyes all she thought was that his skin was soft, not that of a warrior. “This is only the beginning.” His spittle landed on her face, and she closed her eyes. “If you think you’ve had it rough in the past month just wait. You’ll suffer for causing me difficulty. You’ll beg me to let you raise the Black Mage before we even allow it.”

Layala gritted her teeth then spat in his face. The gob of saliva slowly slid down his cheek. His backhand was swift, and it knocked her to her hands and knees. Metallic liquid filled her mouth, and her now-split lip throbbed. She cursed herself for not wanting to get up, not wanting to fight. How many times had she been knocked down but always rose? How many times had the men in the training yard knocked her on her ass, but nothing kept her down? Certainly no backhand from a weak elf. But lying on the cold stone and closing her eyes beckoned her. They said they would break her, but in many ways, they already had.

“High King,” Aldrich said quietly. “Perhaps it’s best we don’t incur the wrath of our allies.”

What did that mean? Staring at the ground, Layala’s vision became unfocused. Get up. Get up. But her mind drifted to Thane on that forest floor. He didn’t get up. She should have crawled to him. She should have fought harder. Tears spilled onto the smooth light-gray stone. All she wanted was to see him. To behold his beautiful face and cocky grin with her own eyes. To have his warm arms around her and whisper conceited, annoying things in her ear. She would laugh and tell him what an arrogant prick he was, and he would smile at that. Maker, how she longed to see his smile.

A heavy black boot crushed down on the fingers of her left hand. She bit back a wail, and tried to pull free of the king’s weight, but was trapped between him and the stone. “Take her back to the tower.”

He twisted his foot, grinding her bones. Holy Maker above, that hurt. She let out a quiet whimper, biting down until her jaw ached. She might not have the strength to fight back, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing her pain.

“High King,” Aldrich said with more force this time.

His boot lifted off and Layala sighed, tucking her stinging hand to her chest. The king’s quiet footsteps petered out of the room and a door closed. Aldrich dropped into a squat in front of Layala, lightly grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. No offered sympathies came but he said, “You can sit and finish your meal.” And that was even better.

Aldrich offered his arm as they stepped into the corridor outside the dining hall. Layala took a step away from him. It did not matter if he was nicer than the others. She wouldn’t fall for it. She trusted him even less now that he was being kind.

A few feminine voices drifted from down the corridor. She stared past the paintings of previous royals on the walls, the many tall vases of fresh flowers and over the red running carpet down the center of the hall. The light footsteps drew closer, their giggles louder. Was it the princess? Was Talon in on this too or had she also been a victim? After all, Aldrich nearly impaled her with an arrow. Maybe he wanted to take out the other heir so there was no question.

Talon came around the corner wearing a bright-yellow gown with white gloves. Her brown hair was pulled high on her head bringing out her fair skin and blushed cheeks. Beside her, Vyra and another maiden Layala recognized from the Summer Solstice stopped and stared. Even Talon seemed to be at a loss for words. Did Layala look so horrible that they were aghast at her appearance?

“Come on,” Aldrich said, tilting his head to the left.

Ignoring him, she took a step toward Talon, but she couldn’t replace anything to say. The only time she even somewhat trusted Talon led to her being shot with an arrow. What if Talon had been in on it to lure Layala out to the waterfall?

Talon’s brows furrowed, and she pushed away from her friends. Her heels clicked loudly as she stamped toward them, glaring at Aldrich. “You said she was with Thane. Father said after he rescued them from Calladira that they left because Thane didn’t want to give up his position as High King.” She set those fierce green eyes on Layala. “And what happened to your face?”

Layala brought a hand to her lip, almost forgetting about the dull throbbing pain. Maker above, could Talon truly be this clueless? Or was it an act? Layala didn’t see any reason for her to be fake about this. Typical Talon would be to rub her demise in her face.

Aldrich stepped in between them. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Talon. Now run along with your friends like a good little daddy’s girl.” His hand gripped Layala’s arm hard, and he started pulling her down the hall. Layala stumbled over her own feet with his force.

“Aldrich,” Talon snapped. “Where is Thane? Where is my brother?”

“Go play,” Aldrich said over his shoulder.

“They tried to murder him,” Layala called. “Left him for dead in that haunted forest. Please replace him, Talon. Find Thane!”

Aldrich squeezed her arm until his nails pierced through her skin and Layala yelped. “Stop. You’re hurting me.”

“That’s the point. Now keep your mouth shut before my father hears you and you’ll have much worse than a split lip and broken fingers.”

When he brought her back to her room, the door creaked open, and he gestured for her to go inside. Why was she here? The king said to bring her to the tower. As much as she wanted to go dive onto the soft bed she knew awaited, her feet wouldn’t go forward.

“Go. The king can’t let his cruelty get in the way of reason. Mathekis specifically said not to hurt you.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“I’m not cruel, Laya. I don’t want you to be hurt, but I made my decision and now this is the path we both must walk.”

“Not cruel? You betrayed your friend—your brother—for a chance at the throne. What would you call that?”

“Ambition.”

She turned away, unable to look at him for another moment without wanting to claw his eyes out. “Ugh, you disgust me. You’re worse than Tenebris. At least he never pretended to be something he wasn’t. Thane will never forgive you.”

“He’s dead. I don’t need his forgiveness.”

That statement momentarily stole the breath from her lungs. “You and Tenebris keep saying that because you’re afraid. Afraid of what he will do to you.”

Aldrich grabbed her arm and dragged her inside the room. With both hands wrapped around her arms, he pinned her against the wall, chest heaving up and down. His fingers dug in and a fiery temper she’d never seen in his eyes blazed. “Even if Thane is alive, he can’t win. The people, the army won’t turn on their true king. He will be seen as the enemy. You get that right?” Droplets of his spit hit Layala’s cheek. “Thane can’t beat him. He is nothing but a fallen prince with no land and no wife.”

Layala rammed her knee hard into Aldrich’s groin, then shoved him in the chest. “Get your hands off me. I may have had a weak moment back in that dining hall, but it won’t happen again.”

Clutching between his legs, Aldrich moaned and stumbled back a few steps. “Damn it, Layala. I’m trying to help you. Can’t you see that? Or are you so blind by your loss that you can’t see reason?”

“If that were true, you’d help me escape. The only one of us blind is you. For a crown, you’d trade in the freedom of all.”

His stare was full of hurt and chaotic storms as if he was unsure of everything. “You’re wrong. I will bring magic back to the elves of Palenor and they will love me for it.” On his way out, he looked back once then slammed the door behind him.

Layala groaned as the pain from Aldrich’s tight grip, her crushed bloody hand, and her throbbing lip set in. She made her way over to the bed and fell onto the soft, silky fabric. At least she wasn’t back in the tower. There were only a few minutes to relax before a quiet knock sounded and the door popped open. Reina stepped inside, patting her hands down her apron, and then dipped into a bow.

As she lay on the bed, Reina cleaned and wrapped Layala’s bloody, broken fingers and dabbed healing balm on her split lip. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

Layala simply closed her eyes, her mind lost in the conversation at the dining table. Why would Mathekis or the Black Mage care how she was treated? And he’d been gone for four hundred years but they still followed his orders like he was here. If she was his lifeline, it made perfect sense they’d want her protected. The Black Mage was what gave them purpose. And what was time for them? Varlett had been alive for thousands of years. A few hundred wouldn’t seem so long to her.

They’d waited for her to be born and then waited again for her to resurface. Varlett spoke of seeing her mother give over the willow tree necklace, which meant she allowed Evalyn to take her away. Had the dragon known where she was the entire time? Was she simply waiting for something? And why make a deal with Tenebris if she knew? Or was it only Mathekis who made the deal? That would mean that Varlett never told him where Layala was. Either the three of them didn’t trust each other or some piece of this puzzle was missing.

Her maid pulled the lavender silk cover over her torso and stepped back, folding her hands in front of her. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

With her belly full, too full to the point she thought she might be sick, and her injuries attended to, aside from an escape plan… “No but thank you for asking.”

Reina curtsied and started for the exit.

“Wait,” Layala said. Even if her mind and body were tired and hurt, her instincts kept firing. That core drive of self-preservation screamed at her. “I need a knife.”

“You can’t be thinking of doing anything, Lady. You’re in no condition and you’re outnumbered two hundred to one.”

Even if she didn’t get the chance to use it, she wanted it. Needed something to feel safe again. “Get me a knife. One that I can conceal in my dress. Please.”