Twenty Eight
Alara
I thought I would’ve been taken back to the Enclave, but instead, I’m taken to the dining room, the same as before.
The nausea rises up my throat and I have to swallow three times to keep the contents of my stomach down.
The doors open, and my hands shake as I dare to look into the room, hoping Emerish isn’t there. He’s not, but to my surprise, Rohan is.
The game is over already?
He goes to stand, but a guard steps forward, arrow notched.
Why is he here? What happened in the game?
“Take a seat,” the king says from his seat at the top of the table, but Declan is already grabbing my arm and dragging me over to a chair before I have a chance to obey his order.
“Watch it,” Rohan snarls, moving to stand, and the guards stationed around the room take a step toward him, ready with Nighturn.
“I’m okay,” I say to Rohan as I’m pushed into the seat next to him, feeling the eyes of the king’s family on me.
“Count your days,” Rohan murmurs to Declan, and fear flashes in his eyes before he can cover it with a scowl, moving to stand behind the king, a hand on his sword.
Rohan eyes me, tracking over my body until he pauses on the red at my stomach.
“What. Happened?” he grits out.
“I’m okay,” I say before looking over at him.
He’s dirty, hair askew. There’s a scratch on his cheek and his hand is bleeding but otherwise, he doesn’t look too injured.
I want to ask what happened, who won, who… died. But I don’t dare, and especially not here.
“Let’s have a meal and discuss today’s matter,” the king says, clapping his hands once.
Servants come through the doors, and they place food on the table.
There’s lobster and an assortment of fish. A pig with an apple in its mouth, along with a large bird. Goose, maybe? Other meats are garnished with some sort of green leaves.
Fruits and vegetables are piled on next, along with pitchers of something that smells fruity. I assume it’s wine.
“Allow the guests to enter,” the king announces, and I tense, so does Rohan.
He places his hand on my thigh, fingers digging in slightly and my hand goes to his, shaking and sweaty.
Rohan sits up straighter as both men and women arrive, sitting among the princes and princess. As I’m placed next to King Halen, there are no empty seats next to me and I sigh in relief that my nightmare can’t get to me… until he sits down next to Ivor’s son, Savron.
Rohan squeezes my hand, and I look up at him, but he’s already glaring across the table at Emerish.
I can feel his eyes on us like hot knives.
My side burns at the reminder, and I tremble.
I want to curl in on myself, make myself as small as possible, invisible.
Rohan looks at me, holding my gaze.
Brave, he seems to be saying.
I give him a subtle nod, glancing across the table, only for my gaze to be caught by Alexandar’s.
His brows furrow as he leans back, gloved fingers tapping on the table.
“Welcome, friends,” the king says. “Wonderful for you all to join me for dinner.”
“It’s our honor, as always,” Lady Marcell says. “My husband, daughter and I were overjoyed at your invitation after the game, your highness.”
Her husband and daughter smile at that.
The king chortles. “What kind of king would I be if my lords and ladies cannot join me for dinner once in a while?”
“It is a great pleasure, my king,” Lord Caswell chimes-in three seats down from Rohan, raising his goblet. “My wife and I enjoy your company, my king. As does Albert.”
He nudges Albert and the older man nods in agreement, his eyes locked on Franchesca.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Halen retorts. “I hope you’re enjoying The Games so far? Did you place any bets with Lord Emerish?”
I tense at the name, looking down at the food.
“Oh, yes,” they chime and Emerish chuckles. It’s like vines are wrapping around my throat.
“I didn’t win this time,” Violetta sulks.
“I doubled my coin,” Nathanial boasts.
“They’ve been having some great luck, my king,” Emerish says. “But not too much.”
They all laugh apart from Ivor and Alexandar, and I lean a little closer to Rohan.
Conversations flow around the table while my heart is stuck in my throat. I dare a glance at Emerish.
He sits back leisurely, goblet resting on his lips as he glares at me and Rohan. It isn’t until the lady next to him grabs his attention that a smile graces his face, his fake facade slipping into place. I release a quivering breath.
Rohan stays tense beside me, muscles bulging in his arms like he’s holding himself back.
He’s furious… no… that’s too small… he’s murderous.
My other hand joins his on my thigh and I pick it up, squeezing it between mine. Only then does he rip his gaze away from my nightmare to look at me.
His eyes glow purple, jaw clenched, heat pours off of him.
I hold his gaze and take a deep breath, and after a moment, he copies it, trying to loosen his shoulders as much as someone like Rohan can.
He’s still violence wrapped in skin, fury boiling like a volcano. I can feel it, taste it on my tongue like ash.
And still, I don’t let go of his hand while conversation continues, laughing and joking about The Games, about the death that’s occurred. The money they’ve made from it.
It’s sickening.
“The race today was spectacular,” King Halen says, tearing into what looks like a chicken leg. Juices dribble down his chin and I have to look away, only for my eyes to clash with Alexandar’s again.
There is a look in his eye I don’t understand, maybe curiosity, but it’s tinged with something darker.
Rohan suddenly slams a fist on the table, making me jump.
I look at him, but he’s staring directly at Alexandar.
“Do not look at her like that,” Rohan snarls, knife gripped in his fist.
Alexandar smirks. “What’s the matter, brother? Feeling possessive?”
“She’s mine, and I’m not your fucking brother.”
“Of course you are,” Nathanial says, eyeing Rohan with disgust. “Unfortunately.”
“Boys!” the king booms, and I shrink back. “You embarrass me in front of my guests?”
He places the meat down and takes a healthy gulp of whatever is in the goblet.
“You will be quiet and let me finish.”
We stay silent, his guests shifting uncomfortably.
“Of course, father,” Nathanial says.
“Now, clan Blackscale came second in the race and lost one dragon, how unfortunate,” he says, grinning.
My head whips to Rohan who grinds his teeth at the reminder.
“Who…” I ask, heart hammering in my chest. “Rohan, who?” He’s silent, and I panic, grabbing his arm, fingers digging in.
“Alter.”
No.
My eyes close, grief for the older dragon tightening my throat.
The King already told us one would die, but I had hoped maybe there was a way out of it. That there was a way for them to be saved.
What a foolish thought.
“Not to worry, elf, everyone lost a dragon,” the king remarks as the others rapidly discuss how they died. How they fell from the skies after being hit by multiple Nighturn bolts.
A tear tracks down my face. “Aww, look,” Nathanial mocks. “She’s crying again.”
Rohan roars, and then he leaps on the table less than a second later, knife in hand. But before he can get to Nathanial, Alexandar stands, dragging his brother back as an arrow lands in Rohan’s thigh.
I gasp as his leg buckles. “Rohan!”
I stand, reaching for him when the doors fly open with a bang.
Everyone turns, weapons at the ready, guards aiming arrows as the newcomers enter.
“Just in time,” Alexandar mutters, casually straightening his attire and taking his seat once more.
“You’re all a disgrace!” the king bellows, and I would have flinched at the outburst, but my eyes are glued to the woman now walking toward the table, next to an older one, who eyes the situation with obvious curiosity.
They’re flanked by others. Four men and three women, followed by the king’s guard.
The woman doesn’t stop until she’s in front of me, and I distantly hear Rohan snap the arrow from his thigh and move behind me.
She’s taller than me, with deep red hair that’s tied up high in a ponytail, hanging over her shoulder.
It falls to the top of her knees in multiple braids.
A delicate crown made of branches is balanced upon her head, small yellow flowers and ivy intertwined with it, shorter loose strands falling gently around her face.
Dark green eyes stare at me intently, roaming over my face like she can’t believe what she’s seeing, and I do the same with my heart in my throat as silence wraps around the room in some sort of tense standoff.
She’s wearing leather attire, much like the others. A dark green cloak around her shoulders, brown leather pants, a green cotton shirt tight to her body. Her waist is adorned with a belt, little satchels and leather bags hanging from it. A dagger sits in its sheath around her thigh.
But that’s not what has my heart racing.
It’s the fact that her ears are showing, and they’re pointed, just like mine.
All of them are just like mine.
“So it’s true then,” she whispers, her body straightening as Rohan’s hand rests on my hip. Reassuring.
“Niyah, where are your manners!” admonishes the older woman that she came in with.
She has her dark hair pulled back in some elegant, braided bun, eyes brown. A crown, larger than Niyah’s, rests on her head, a green jewel in the center of the branches with white flowers wrapping around it.
The woman turns to the king, bowing slightly.
“Forgive my… daughter’s entrance, it has been a long and tiring journey.”
The king walks over to her, eyeing the others behind her before holding his hand out.
The woman pauses, but takes his hand and shakes it.
“I hope it wasn’t too tiring for a queen?” Halen says as his hand drops, and my eyes widen.
Queen?
The woman shakes her head. “Please, call me Ivara, and not too tiring, no.”
“Excellent.” The king claps. “Come, eat, the guards will show you to your quarters after.”
“Thank you, King Halen, and thank you for providing stable care for our harts.”
Harts…
The woman, Niyah, still stands before me while the king offers Ivara a seat, gesturing for the others to sit further down the table.
“Niyah, sit down.” Ivara orders when she doesn’t move.