Page 57 of Queen of War and Ruin

He’s too tall, the man who just rode one of Vsenrog’s horses into the courtyard. Far too tall to be human. I stare at the long, delicate taper of his ears, and every story I’ve ever heard about wicked elves locking their enemies underground or leading innocent maidens into the forest floods my mind.

And then another story rises in my mind. I remember sitting in the sunlight in the old hunting lodge, my brother in his bed, propped up on pillows. And Zarek in front of him, telling his story in a low, soft voice.

Zarek said something came out of the mountain’s heart. The stone melted like wax, he said, and someone stepped through. Someone who wasn’t a man. An elf, tall and cruel. Zarek described the death of the man in the white robes before Gerard interrupted to call him insane.

And Gerard was right; his story was insane. I trusted Zarek. Hells, I saw the body of the man in white at the bottom of the Dragon Mine. But still, I didn’t truly accept what he said about the elf who walked through the mountain. It was just too much to believe.

But I believe it now.

I step away from the window, my hands twisting together at my waist. Another fragment of conversation rises in my mind. We were sitting in the gardens of the Vsenrog palace, Anura and I, next to the big fountain with the fox on top. Light from the palace windows spilled across the grass but didn’t quite reach us.

I’d asked Anura to tell my brother not to risk a visit to Vsenrog. She hesitated, like she wanted to tell me something, and now I realize she must have been weighing whether or not she could trust me with the secret of their marriage. She must have decided she couldn’t.

But that wasn’t all she said that night. I frown at the window, remembering words that made no sense at the time. I said Vsenrog wanted the Dragon Mine, and Anura replied that she’d heard something about a weapon. A weapon buried in the Dragon Mine.

The Dragon Mine still hasn’t produced any gold.

No, the only thing that’s come out of that mountain is the tall elf now standing in the middle of Ethiria’s courtyard.

I shiver, then step back. I can’t see the elf anymore, thank the gods. I feel like a child, closing my eyes and thinking that makes me invisible. That the monsters won’t find me if I can’t see them.

Someone in the courtyard plays a trumpet, a loud, long burst of sound. I start to tremble.

It’s the same melody the crier played at every town Zarek and I visited on our unity tour. It’s a royal flourish, declaring the presence of nobility. I step toward the window and stare into the sun-washed courtyard. My fingers twist together until my hands ache.

And Malrik, the king of Vsenrog, rides into the courtyard of Ethiria’s castle.

Chapter 31

Zarek

A MOUSE STARING DOWN A CAT

They aren’t even pretending this is a tour.

I thought Prince Laurance would ride with us to the coast and bore us to tears with more diatribes about how fantastic and brilliant he is. But he didn’t show up, which left me feeling strangely unsettled as we led our horses out of the stables, escorted by a few more royal guards than I would have thought necessary.

I’m clearly not the only one who found the whole situation unsettling. Elrick’s three guards kept their hands on their swords, and even his wife, Anura, looked like she was watching for possible escape routes. The guards from Ethiria outnumber us, but Elrick’s men look pretty tough. I think we can take them, if we have to.

So far, though, the guards have seemed more interested in keeping us from going back to the palace than trying to murder us. Every time I turn toward the road and wonder what in the gods’ many names is happening to my wife right now, one of Ethiria’s guards puts his hand on the pommel of his sword and scowls.

Fine. I’ll play nice.

We’ve stopped for lunch at a bluff overlooking Ethiria’s jagged coastline. We’re close enough to the falls to see the way the afternoon sun turns the mist into rainbows, and close enough to the rocky shoreline far below to catch the occasional whiff of salt and fish. Shorebirds wheel and cry in the air past the cliffs, lending their lonely voices to our sad picnic of hard cheese and bread.

Elrick’s guard Gerard is attempting to chat with a few of our surly escorts, and Anura is talking in hushed tones with the two other guards from Marion. Elrick is pacing along the top of the cliff, stopping occasionally to frown at the ocean in a way that reminds me of Lilias.

I come to my feet and pretend to stretch. No one looks my way. Slowly, I walk toward the prince of Marion.

His back is turned toward me, and his cloak billows in the wind coming off the ocean. I clear my throat as I approach him. He glances at me, then back to the waves. When he starts walking again, I walk with him.

“Zarek,” he finally says.

It’s not exactly a question. I glance over my shoulder. Gerard is still busy with those fucks from Ethiria. No one is watching us.

“Prince Elrick,” I reply.

He looks at me. Gods, his face reminds me of Lilias. My fingers curl around the pommel of the dagger tucked in my belt.