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I pull my coat back on, slip the bow and remaining arrows back in the case, and then, using my magic, I step off the rooftop and drop to the ground.
I land silently and painlessly, and then I walk into the night.
The sun has set over Vhoig, but the night, while dark, is warm and sweet.
I am ready to head back to Pyrthos, where I will have a lot more fun than I have had tonight.
Although I have to give kudos to my client. Killing her husband while he was getting his rocks off was something I have never thought of doing before.
“You’ll have to add that to your portfolio. Maybe you can get a few more scorned wives on your contact list. I wonder if she’ll do referrals.” I muse this to myself as I head back to the flying carriage.
I want to get back to Pyrthos as soon as possible because there is someone else I would much rather be following tonight.
I summon an image of her into my mind. Beautiful, slight, lithe.
Mine. All mine. She is never getting rid of me.
The thought satisfies me as I set out to follow her through the night.
THE END.
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PREVIEW OF DARK ELF’S SECRET BABY
The Worlds of Protheka is a vast and growing world. Check out one of the books, Dark Elf’s Secret Baby
Dark Elf’s Secret Baby
By Celeste King
Available on Amazon here!
LAYLA
Idrop my pickaxe at the mouth of the mine as I step into the open air, the metal tip clanking against the countless pickaxes beneath it as it falls. The setting sun glances off of the snow capped tips of the mountain range around us, stars beginning to wink into existence in the sky.
After a few steps forward, I reach the small stand where one of the dark elf overseers sits, taking inventory of the product we bring back to the surface from the mines. I shrug off my bag and hand it to him, watching as he rummages through it and pulls a chunk of kirialite out, his eyes glimmering as he beholds the raw stone.
The dark elf gives me a curt nod before sliding a handful of tickets to me. They never give us real money, of course, as it could be used to formulate some type of escape, but these tickets are as good as currency within the camp.
I grab the tickets off the table and return his nod, turning away and letting a small sigh slip through my lips as I start on my way home. Camp Horizon isn’t a bad place to be as a human, and if I’m being honest with myself, I rather enjoy the predictability of my routine.
Wake at dawn, to the mines just after sunrise, work until sunset, and on the way home at twilight. The same location, same activity, and same schedule, every day but holidays.
The dark elves aren’t as bad here as they are on the other continents, either. Sure, there are some who are too quick with their whip and take too much of an interest in the human women, but the vast majority are rather apathetic.
My steps fall rhythmically as I walk down the path from the mines toward the village square, the footsteps of the other miners around me creating a strange, drum-like beat, accented by catches of quiet conversation. It isn’t long before the squat little cabins of the village square begin to peek into view from behind the massive tree trunks of the surrounding forest.
People mill about in the loose gravel streets, moving from vendor to vendor after their work day and collecting various supplies and food for the coming week. A handful of dark elf guards lean against the walls of scattered stalls and cabins, watching with thinly veiled boredom as the humans move about. The camp is almost peaceful- at least, as peaceful as any dark elf run settlement can be.
The camp is separated into different quarters, which also helps to keep the peace. The dark elves largely stay in their quarter, situated to the west of the main village square, and the humans stay in their eastern residential quarter. The mines lie to the north, and the road into Camp Horizon sits to the south, along with the warehouse where all of what we mine is stored and cataloged.
I sigh, wiping my soot-covered hands across my face. No, Camp Horizon isn’t the worst place to be, but the work is hard. And I know, deep down in my bones, that I want something more.
A stray, chilly breeze sweeps up the path from the village, carrying with it the decadent scent of fresh nimond bean rolls. The baker in town, Marshall, always seems to be making something with the spices he trades for with the dark elves.
I half-believe he’s managed to stay out of the mines almost solely because of the confections he creates in his little kitchen. I follow my nose to his small shop, the cabin radiating heat from the ovens within and enveloping me in its sweet, yeasty scent as I cross the threshold.
