Page 66 of To Save a Kingdom

His stomach twisted, sending a bitter aftertaste up the back of his throat. He swallowed, forcing his words through thickened vocal cords. “Convince your father to honor your treaty with Aliya, regardless of who she decides to wed. Replace the food stores he burned.” The warm sunny future he’d dreamed of with Aliya by his side evaporated in a flash of smoke and shadow, leaving a hollow, sinking feeling in his chest. The rest of his life spread before him, as bleak and hopeless as it had been before Aliya had stumbled into his path.

But her kingdom and her people would be safe, her position much more secure. If he couldn’t be with her, at least he could give her this.

He pinned Tsara with a glare. “Do that, and convince your father to help rescue my mother, then we’ve got a deal.”

Victory flashed through Tsara’s eyes. “Done.” Drawing a dagger from her hip, she pressed the edge against her left palm until a thin line of red welled up. Sheathing the blade, she raised her eyebrows.

She wanted an Elven Blood Vow. Valek. It was similar to the Irrevocable Vow used by the mages. If he broke it, he’d die. Painfully and slowly. And if she couldn’t follow through on her part, she’d face the same fate.

He furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?” He flicked his gaze to her father. “Roland is stubborn. If you’re not able to convince him…”

Something hardened in her eyes, as though she thought he was trying to weasel his way out of their bargain. “Don’t worry about me holding up my own end.” Her eyes narrowed. “Worry about your own.”

Elessan tilted his head to the side. What did she have on her father that made her so confident? Chances were, he would never find out. He was going to regret this, but he couldn’t leave his mother to die. Removing his dagger, he drew it across his own palm, a burning line of fire following in its wake. A heartbeat later, his hand sported a red slash identical to hers.

They pressed their palms together.

Tsara took a deep breath and, in Elven, said, “I promise to secure my father’s help in freeing Sorisana Svialto and the other hostages from the human known as Brooks. And to guarantee our alliance and food supplies for Queen Aliya Larimar Cerel.”

“In exchange,” Elessan murmured in the same, “I swear to bind my life to yours, to rule by your side as the sun elf king, when the time comes.”

The magic swirled from their joined hands, sweeping over them with so much pressure Elessan’s ears popped. The weight squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t draw air. After several heartbeats, the power settled into his skin with the caress of a spring breeze.

The heaviness vanished as they separated.

A thin scar stretched across his palm, where it would remain until he fulfilled his vow.

Likely many decades or centuries from now, when Roland passed away and Tsara ascended to the throne.

The princess studied her hand for a moment before flashing him a toothy grin. With a nod, she popped her ear plug back in and strode over to her father.

Less than an hour later, Elessan stood in the small chapel one of Roland’s stewards had located preparing for what was probably the fastest and least ostentatious sun elf royal wedding in the entire recorded history of elvenkind. The dark, almost black, wood paneling lining the walls matched his mood. The few golden banners hung along the pews did little to lift or enhance the atmosphere.

Two of Roland’s nobles had been scrounged up as witnesses. They were off to the side. The constant frowns they sent his way when Roland wasn’t looking were doing more to convey their opinion of a lowly mountain elf marrying their beloved princess than words ever could. The gold band weighing down his pocket was so ornate and tacky it could have come from the Cerel family vault. It was so unlike any he’d have chosen for Aliya. Elessan still couldn’t figure out how the sun elves had procured such a thing…no reasonable person marched to a political summit with an engagement ring just in case. And no goldsmith could be expected to forge this in the matter of minutes since he’d formally accepted Tsara’s proposal.

He blinked. But it hadn’t been just in case. Tsara had known what she was doing, had planned for this occasion, down to the last detail.

Sighing, he shook his head, the weight of an eternity with these scheming, manipulative people spread before him. Every twitch of his hand had the tender skin of his palm pulling and aching, a constant reminder there was no way out of this. He could only hope Aliya made the most of her freedom and lived her life to the fullest.

The door to the chapel creaked open and the steward’s head peeked through. “The bride is on her way, Your Majesty.”

Roland, standing on the dais to Elessan’s left, nodded as his eyes scanned across the room, pinning each person in place. The two nobles stiffened, tucking their hands behind their backs. Elessan met the king’s gaze, refusing to back down.

“Ready?” Roland asked.

Elessan dipped his head once as his stomach soured. Here went nothing, for better or worse.

The priestess stepped forward, the red ribbon she’d use to bind their wrists together dangling from her hand. She wore the plain blue robes of her station rather than the gold and crimson that would be appropriate for a royal wedding. While Tsara had planned ahead, she obviously hadn’t shared her plans with the rest of the court.

Praise the mages for small favors.

The steward’s head ducked outside then back in. He met Roland’s eyes and flashed a thumb’s-up.

The king glanced at Elessan and the priestess. “Begin,” he ordered.

The female cleared her throat and raised both hands to the single window in the back of the space. Her voice reverberated off the rafters. “Children of the sun, cherished kin,” she paused, bowing to Roland, “Your Majesty. We gather beneath the eternal light to witness the bonding of our beloved princess, Tsara Enorathil, to Elessan Svialto.”

The doors at the back of the chapel opened, revealing Tsara. She still wore her black pants and the olive green tunic that offset her eyes, but she had added a gold sash strapped from shoulder to hip and swept her hair up into an elegant chignon. A few loose curls framed her face too perfectly to be accidental.