Chapter 28
Aliya
Aliya barely managed to shrug her gown back on and collect Zadé before she raced back to the council chamber. She shoved both doors open with a dramatic crack. “I have an idea,” she announced to the room.
Everyone stopped mid-sentence as she approached, her eyes dancing over them. Tsara’s eyes were bright, her mouth curled in smug satisfaction. Beside her, Elessan looked sick. She ached to go to him, to find out what was wrong, but now wasn’t the time.
Roland’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes hard as they met hers. “And where have you been?” His eyes flicked down to her left hand.
“Locating General Brightleaf and scouting the library.” She pinned him with an equally rigid stare. “And you?”
Roland cleared his throat, his face reddening.
Tsara stepped forward. “My father agreed to help free the hostages, reinstate our trade agreement and provide enough food to get your subjects through the winter. In exchange,” her arm encircled Elessan’s, “my husband promised to return to the sun elf kingdom and take his place at my side.”
Her husband? Aliya hadn’t realized Princess Tsara was engaged, much less married. She studied the possessive way Tsara was latched on to Elessan, and his bleak expression. Sudden realization slammed into her.
“No.” Her voice cracked, her knees threatening to buckle. A blade made of ice rammed its way between her ribs and into her heart. This had to be some sort of sick joke. Or a nightmare. Her breath hitched as she shifted her focus to Elessan. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“El?” Why wouldn’t he look at her? “El, what’s going on?” Her chest burned as her vision sparkled around the edges.
Another thought careened into her mind. Holding up her hand with the thin line slashed through it, she turned her glare on Roland. “You and I already negotiated all of that. I have the scar to prove it.”
Turning her left palm toward the ceiling, she stared at the imperfection marring her flesh.
Roland shrugged. “It’s not my fault the two of you didn’t communicate before you approached me.”
A sour taste pushed its way up Aliya’s throat. Dark spots flashed in the periphery of her vision.
She was going to faint. Her gaze flew across the room, searching for Elessan, but her eyesight was watery from the tears burning her eyes. She blinked, forcing her vision to clear.
A steady hand gripped her bicep, holding her up when she would have collapsed. Zadé.
“Tell them what you learned,” Zadé whispered, her lips near enough they tickled the fine hairs in her ears. “Put this aside and focus on the mission. The prisoners and your aunt are counting on you.”
Aliya shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. El had promised her he’d be by her side, that he wouldn’t leave.
“I’ll kill th’ wench fer yeh later,” Zadé murmured. “But right now, I needja ta pull yerself together, Princess.” Zadé emphasized her words with a subtle shake of her shoulders.
Aliya opened her mouth to tell Zadé she didn’t care about the hostages. Roland had tricked her into a blood vow and it seemed Tsara had done the same to Elessan.
The sun elf royals were even more manipulative and conniving than her own nobles. Which made sense, considering they’d had centuries to perfect the art.
Aliya glanced at her palm again. There had to be some way out of this. If not for her, at least for Elessan, who would never be stupid enough to get caught in a similar trap.
She held up her hand, displaying the thin line to the room. “Tsara can’t have Elessan. You and I already agreed you would provide those things in exchange for my hand in marriage.” She glared at Tsara. “Not his.”
Elessan’s face paled, his gaze locked on her hand.
Roland clicked his tongue at her. “He negotiated the terms before you and I signed our little contract.” He gestured between her and himself.
“Our agreement was… an unexpected bonus, you might say.” Something vicious flashed in his eyes as he turned his attention to his daughter.
“Besides, it’s done. Their ceremony ended less than an hour ago. ”
Elessan made a strangled sound at the back of his throat.
Aliya’s eyes dipped to the gold and amber band that encircled his ring finger and to the matching one Tsara displayed on the hand wrapped around Elessan’s bicep.
Aliya ran her fingers over her scalp, brushing away the strands of hair that had worked their way loose from her braid.
Taking a deep breath, she took all the pain, betrayal and rage, and shoved it into a black iron box—no, antimonite—and tossed it into the darkest corner of her mind where she could process it later.
After they rescued the hostages and ended Brooks, when she could fall apart somewhere private and start planning her life without Elessan.
Her eyes burned, but she blinked back the tears.
There was no way she was going to show these elven bastards any further weakness.
She would rescue their people, send the Enorathils scuttling back to their lands with their tails between their legs, and then she’d find a way to save her kingdom. All by herself.
Then, she’d figure out a way to unbind herself from her marriage vow to Roland.
Digging her claws into the rage that churned in her chest until it was a wildfire exploding through her veins and across her skin, she rolled her shoulders to dispel some of the tension.
The stench of burnt hair assailed her nostrils as the faint aura of flames covered her arms, curling the fine hairs into ash.
“Valek!”
Aliya didn’t know who’d sworn, and she didn’t care.
Careful not to meet Elessan’s or Tsara’s eyes, she addressed the group as a whole.
She took a deep breath, letting it steady her as she turned her focus to the other matter at hand.
“The hostages are in the far southwest corner of the library. There are ten of them, and it doesn’t appear any have been hurt.
But they’re under heavy guard.” Flaring her nostrils, she explained about the dumbwaiter, the layout of the space, and the forty guards Brooks had managed to recruit.
“I have a plan, but it’s going to require precise timing. ”