Long Live the Elf Queen: The Elf Queen Book 2

Layala’s silver-heeled shoes tapped lightly as she stepped into the corridor and closed the door gently behind her, leaving her frightened maids inside to compose themselves. Allowing Aldrich to see them in their panicked state would set off warning bells in his head. He’d wonder why they were so worried.

The traitor’s eyes traveled down her form, more in an inspection than desire but that heat was there, too. She wanted to gag at what thoughts he might have about her. The high-necked gold gown hugged her waist and several layers of fabric created a round volume from her hips to her toes. She didn’t want to show any more skin or curve than absolutely necessary.

“You truly are beautiful. Fennan and I had a bet; he said you’d probably be of average looks, and I, that you’d outshine the stars. He gladly gave over the wager.”

Layala glared, disgusted. After what he did, he was going to talk about her looks? And how could he even speak of Fennan now? “Save your compliments, snake. They won’t do you any good.”

He frowned and reached for her. With a disgusted grunt, she stepped away, tucking her arms behind her back. She may have accepted his aid before, but now that she’d eaten, and bathed, she would use every ounce of her strength to manage the walk on her own.

“Stubborn as ever. What’s giving you this newfound burst of energy?” He arched a sleek brow. “You could barely walk before.”

Layala swallowed hard, thinking of Reina and how she’d been told not to give Layala food. “A hot bath can do wonders.” Though when she started forward again, she faked a stumble, and he grabbed hold of her arm to steady her. She reluctantly grabbed hold of his elbow so he wouldn’t suspect her maids aided her more than they should have.

“Stubbornness can only get you so far. I only want to help you,” Aldrich said. “It’s not a trick.”

“Help?” Layala scoffed. “You want to help me now? Where were you when I was starving? Where were you when I wanted out of that room? Where—” She broke off as her surroundings began to spin and her head felt too light and leaned on him more heavily. Maybe he was right about her stubbornness.

“There was nothing I could do, but despite what you may think, I care about you. I don’t want to see you suffer.”

Seething, Layala gripped his arm tighter, digging her broken fingernails into his forearm. She learned long ago people showed who they truly were, and their words might mean nothing. She believed bold action over pretty lies. “And what about Piper and Fennan? Do you want to see them suffer?” They went as fast as she could, which was significantly slower than she wanted. Her weak thighs burned with the effort as did her pride.

“Of course not.” He ran an exasperated hand down his face. “They are my friends but sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. They’ll be freed as soon as you cooperate.”

“Greater good? You think raising the Black Mage is for the greater good? And your friends? I highly doubt they’d call you the same anymore.” She shook her head at the thought of them locked in a damp cell with nothing to eat or drink, cold and shivering. Or worse, beaten and tortured.

“Listen to me,” Aldrich said, jerking her to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Several pairs of guards in the grand foyer watched them. They didn’t flinch from their positions by the front entrance or guarding hallways, but they observed. Aldrich glanced around, as aware of them as she was, then met Layala’s angry stare. “If you don’t want to go back to that room, you’ll do what my father requires.”

“I’d much rather fall into an endless sleep than use my magic for that prick.”

Aldrich’s eyes flashed wide, and he lowered his voice so she could barely hear him. “He will never allow that. He’ll find ways to get you to cooperate. That stint in the tower was to weaken you, break your will. There is much worse to come.”

Pressing her lips into a hard line, Layala wondered why the hell he was telling her this. Was he pretending to be the good elf and his father the bad one? Playing mind games? He couldn’t truly believe he was her friend anymore or that he could be redeemed. “He can try.”

Aldrich sighed and dragged her along beside him, gripping her arm hard enough that she knew his fingers would bruise her flesh. “Mathekis is here. I doubt in your weakened state you can resist his power. It’s even a challenge for me.”

Layala gulped down the nervousness rising in her throat. Thane said Mathekis was the last person he wanted to face in a one-on-one fight, and he was the strongest elf she knew. “You’re doing all this to one day be High King, but there won’t be a Palenor left to rule. Don’t you see that?”

“My father and I have binding deals with Mathekis. We get to keep the rule of Palenor and the attacks will stop. This is how I can save our land from furthering the curse. I know you don’t see it that way, but it’s my intention.”

“Really? Has Tenebris even announced you as his new heir? Reina and Pearl called you Sir Aldrich not High Prince. And have the attacks stopped?”

“He will. He’s waiting for the right time.” He shook his head. “And the attacks will stop after they get what they want.”

“Maker above, Aldrich, how can you be so stupid? And you think once the Black Mage comes back, he won’t take Palenor? He tried to take it before, but your ancestors weren’t fools. Your grandfather died in the war to save this land, and your father is just going to give it to him.”

“You’re wrong. The High King knows exactly what he is doing.”

“And that is?”

“The Black Mage will restore magic to our people. My father made a deal. You don’t care because you’re a mage, but the rest of the elves want their power back.”

“You believe Mathekis can guarantee that? Think, Aldrich.”

“He doesn’t even want to be what he is.”

It all sounded too good to be true. Tenebris didn’t care if other elves had magic. He wanted it for himself. And why would the Black Mage stop the pale ones when he was the one to create them? More lies, more coercions. Was Aldrich tricked into believing all this or was it all a ruse to get her to cooperate?

They approached the dining hall and the doors with ornate carvings opened inward. A pair of guards dipped their chins in greeting. Layala’s feet suddenly felt heavy, as if boulders kept her in place. What waited in this room…

Aldrich placed his hand on her upper back, urging her forward. With a deep breath, she took one step then another. Each felt like walking to her doom. The elf who murdered her parents, and took Thane from her, wore a green, high-necked tunic with embroidered ivy leaves and gold buttons down his center. A gold crown with emeralds and diamonds sparkled on his straight blond hair; the color gave his alabaster skin a little warmth. His slender build and narrow shoulders were nothing like Thane’s. But what bothered her most was the way he watched her, like a hungry wolf, waiting for a meal, hidden in fine clothes and the ethereal face of an elf.

Layala glanced around the rest of the room. She’d eaten here many times, but the decor had since changed, green tapestries over the wall of windows instead of blue, a new honey-oak table with fancy silver dishware, even the calming green plants had been swapped out for potted red roses, as if Tenebris wanted to clear away everything Thane touched. The artistic painting that had been on the wall was replaced with a life-size portrait of Tenebris in a gaudy gold frame. Worst of all, Tenebris sat at the head of the table where Thane once had. He gestured to the seat beside him. The same seat Thane said was for his betrothed. Maker, she wished he was here, that if she closed her eyes and opened them, he’d be there instead. But he wasn’t and she wanted nothing more than to grab a knife off the table and ram it through Tenebris’s heart.

A cold sensation trickled down the back of her neck, and she whirled around.

A pale one with skin and hair as white as sun-bleached bone, slid his black fingernail across her shoulder. “Hello, pretty,” he purred. Mathekis’s black eyes locked onto the lily’s mark on her upper arm, peeking out from the fabric of her capped sleeves, and he licked his coal lips. “We finally meet.”

She bristled at his touch, at his closeness, and leaned away from him.

“I won’t bite,” Mathekis said with a wicked grin, each tooth narrowed to a point, perfect for a predator. “Over the last few hundred years I’ve gained necessary control of my urges. Don’t worry, my lord needs you alive and unharmed.”

With a sneer, Tenebris stood and waved his arms over the table. “Have a seat.” His command was clipped and forceful, and the pinch of his mouth looked like he’d sucked on a lime.

Mathekis strolled into the room, graceful like he glided on air, and his long black cloak flowed around him like a pool around his feet. He took his seat and picked up a glass full of dark red liquid. He swirled it around, and the thickness of it made her gulp. It wasn’t wine.

“I said, have a seat,” Tenebris snapped.

Layala didn’t move. She rubbed sweaty palms across her dress. Run run run, her inner voice chanted. Her gaze drifted to the three exits. Could she make it? Even the open window letting in a warm breeze looked appealing. She was in no condition to fight a pale one—a cannibal, cursed elf. Ravenous and lethal in nature.

Heart thundering, Layala backed toward the hallway, and bumped into Aldrich. The jittery feeling now rushing through her jolted energy in her once-weak legs. She could make it to the servants’ passage, hide.

“Come forward. Sit.” Mathekis’s voice took on a different sound, a more melodic and rich tone with a slight echo. Layala found herself involuntarily advancing. No, no I don’t want to go forward, she thought but kept moving. She slowly shook her head even as she was powerless to stop herself. Spiking fear made her hands tremble. She reached the chair and grabbed the back of it and lifted her chin.

Mathekis smiled. “My, my, we have a stubborn one. You won’t be the first I’ve broken.”

The High King’s upper lip curled, and he shot Aldrich a harsh glare. “Don’t just stand there. Do your job.”

Aldrich grabbed her hips, steered her around to the seat, pushed her down in the chair and scooted her in. That bastard. She still felt the ghost of his palms on her and her face heated in disgust. But that bitterness was quickly stolen away by the bowl half filled with ripe purple berries and a plate holding a buttered roll and a turkey leg. She inhaled the rich scent of the meat, her mouth watering, and stomach growling as if demanding she take a bite. For a moment she wondered why Mathekis didn’t smell rotten like the others she’d encountered. Maybe the food masked the scent.

“You’re hungry,” Tenebris said. “Eat, Layala.”

There was no silverware within her reach. Nothing to use as a weapon. The king’s knife was on his left and she, on his right. Layala kept her hands on her lap despite how ravenous she was. This felt wrong. They’d ripped her from Thane, and starved her to only have her sit down and dine with them like nothing happened?

Aldrich pulled out the chair next to her and sat. “When will the dragon arrive?”

The dragon? Memories flashed of Layala driving her dagger into the dragon shifter’s chest, nearly hacking off her arm and finally to the black-taloned hand that sliced through Thane’s gut. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath to calm the anxious energy spiking in her again. She couldn’t panic, couldn’t black out. Not here.

“Any moment now,” Mathekis answered.

As if on command, the doors clicked open. Layala turned her head. The pearl-white gown dragging on the floor behind Varlett hugged the dragon’s curves like it was painted on. She was beautiful with her vibrant brown skin and golden curls that fell like a waterfall around her, spilling to the apex of her hip bones.

“Mathekis, my dear,” she cooed, her heels tapping loudly on the glossy stone floor. “It’s been too long.”

Even her voice made goosebumps rise along Layala’s spine. If there was one person she wanted dead more than Tenebris it was that wench. If it weren’t for her, she would still be with Thane. They’d have escaped through the portal together. She could be holding him right now, kissing him, loving him.

“Varlett.” Mathekis’s eyes greedily roamed over her without an ounce of modesty. “You look delicious as ever.”

Ew, gag me, she thought.

Tenebris stood, then lifted a hand toward the chair next to Mathekis. “Welcome, Varlett.”

Layala wanted to puke at all the formalities like they weren’t a bunch of disgusting creeps. Oh yes, let us sit down and act civilized when they eat people.

Varlett took the seat beside Mathekis, and tsked, looking Layala over from across the table. She pushed out her lower lip dramatically, “You look sad, poor thing,” she purred. “I couldn’t possibly imagine why.” She giggled as if what she’d done to Thane was funny.

Heat flared in Layala’s body. If she had use of her magic, she’d strangle the life from her, watch with pleasure as she gasped for breath. “Bitch.”

Smiling as if she’d gotten the exact reaction she wanted, Varlett said, “Feisty. Feisty. And here I thought a stretch in the tower would tame that tongue.”

Tenebris pushed his shoulders back. “I need to know if you did what I asked.” His voice was snappy and harsh.

Varlett arched an eyebrow. Leaning forward, she tapped her three-inch talons on the tabletop. Click, click, click. The sound made Layala’s skin crawl. “I severed their bond. You can check her wrist if you’d like. I don’t know why you haven’t already. You’ve had her for weeks.”

“I meant, is he dead? I told you to go back and make sure. I can’t very well have him coming for my head. He already tried to kill me once, and I’m hearing… rumors.”

Layala’s heart stuttered. Rumors Thane was alive?

“First of all, you don’t tell me anything.” She rolled her eyes to Layala. “I left him bleeding out on the forest floor with a hole through his gut. I doubt even he survived that.” Varlett turned back to Tenebris. “But I suppose it’s possible he lived. He is—unique after all.”

The harsh frown lines around Tenebris’s mouth creased further. “I wanted a guarantee. I paid you enough.”

“Should I have brought your son’s head to you? I’m sure your naïve wife would have loved that.” She let out a cackle. “I did you a favor so if he’s alive, it’s your problem now.”

“My problem?” Tenebris snapped. “You think he wouldn’t come for you, too?”

Her eyes flashed and she smiled. “I’d welcome the challenge. It’s fun to toy with boys.”

Layala’s hands curled into fists. Maker, she wanted to fly over the table and strangle her. She found it odd they spoke about this in front of her like she was a part of their scheming crew or as if she wasn’t there at all, but then again, it spoke volumes. They didn’t see her as a threat. They didn’t fear she’d lose her temper and slaughter them all even though that’s exactly what she wanted, but like them, she knew, in this state, she wasn’t capable of it. Without weapons and magic and with little food, she was no threat. Those weeks in the tower were his strategy for a reason.

Aldrich touched Layala’s arm. “It’s alright to eat,” he whispered. “I promise it hasn’t been tampered with.” The food practically beckoned her to indulge but she stubbornly shook her head.

“Eat,” Mathekis commanded in that rich timbre that made her muscles move. “You’ll need strength soon enough.”

No longer able to resist, Layala lifted the turkey leg to her lips and tore off a piece of meat. The salt, fat, and protein were better than anything she could recall ever eating. She almost moaned as she swallowed a mouthful. Even though she wanted to fight this command, just to prove she could, it was easy to give in.

After several bites Layala looked up to Mathekis and Varlett watching her with unnerving, predatory closeness. Even though Varlett was in her human form, she appeared very much like a dragon who wanted an elf for a snack. Layala cleared her throat and took a long drink of water. Perhaps she should play a game herself. “So we’re here because you want me to bring the Black Mage back. How would I do that? My magic creates vines and flowers. What does that have to do with the Black Mage?”

“We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Mathekis answered. “For now, eat your fill.”

“Zaurahel said himself an elven mage with a lily’s mark would be born to ensure his return when he… died.” Varlett’s hesitation on the last word made Layala wonder. “And then stand at his side.”

Layala fumbled her turkey leg and it clanked loudly onto the glass plate in front of her. Standing at the side of the most evil mage to ever live? How could that be? A lie. It must be. Layala would never take his side. “He was a seer?”

“He was many things.”

Why were they keeping the how of it a secret? Would it cost her life? No, it couldn’t if they believed she’d side with him after. Would she somehow lose her free will, be enchanted by him? Or maybe… Layala picked the turkey leg back up. “Do you even know how to bring him back?”

Mathekis stared at Layala with unwavering coal eyes. “Zaurahel didn’t leave it up to fate. Fate is for the gods.”

Tenebris tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “You don’t need to explain yourself to her. She’ll do it one way or another.”

“I was alive when the old gods walked this realm,” Varlett said, cutting off Tenebris to brag, “I know more than you possibly ever could, Layala. You’re a little naïve girl and don’t forget it.”

Layala wanted to hide her surprise, but both of her eyebrows shot up. Varlett had to be at least two thousand, perhaps even three thousand years old. Odd that she wanted to point that out. Maybe she didn’t like sitting at a table with two others who challenged her. She did say that power was the one thing she coveted more than anything. Of course, she may simply want to put Layala down, steal any confidence she could have left. “If you’re so old and knowledgeable, why is it that you need Zaurahel back? Why did you even need any of his magic in the first place? Or mine for that matter.”

Varlett’s mouth twitched. “It’s called loyalty.”

“You said he loved power more than you, and so you had a falling out.”

Varlett’s golden eyes narrowed, but a serpent’s smile played at her lips. Laughing, she turned to Mathekis. “This girl has quite the mouth on her, doesn’t she?” She suddenly sprang across the table, crashing over glasses and food, and pressed her long black talon against Layala’s closed lips. “And if you don’t shut up, I’ll cut out your tongue and eat it.”

Layala pressed herself back in the chair, resisting the urge to shove Varlett back. She wouldn’t win in a fight against Varlett right now, maybe not ever.

Tenebris smiled, watching the two of them with great pleasure. “She might not need her tongue for our goals. I know she doesn’t need her ears.”

Varlett’s black slit pupils dilated, and she inhaled. “You do smell good, and those dainty ears would make a fine part of my collection. I could make them into a necklace along with the bones in your hand.”

“Enough,” Mathekis said casually. “She’s not to be harmed.”

It wasn’t a magical command, but Varlett still backed off and slipped into her chair once more. But hatred burned in her eyes, fire hot, and if Layala didn’t know better, it was personal.

Layala picked up her turkey leg again, trying to feign like she didn’t almost just piss her pants.

“Now let’s get to business,” Tenebris said. “Here’s a little taste of what’s to come if you want to rebel. If you don’t want to cooperate.”

Aldrich shifted noisily in his chair. He and Layala exchanged a glance and there was something very worrisome about the growing fear on his face. Doors crashed open and a pair of guards carried a female between them. Her head hung low, and her feet dragged as if she was unconscious. Her filthy moss-green tunic was torn off at the shoulder on one side and her too-big trousers barely hung on her hips. The red hair that was once as vibrant as a ripe raspberry was dulled from dirt and grime. A hand grasped the crown of her head and jerked her face up. Bruises and several gashes on Piper’s delicate face made Layala gasp.

Piper stared out of her one unswollen eye. “Don’t you do it. You let them kill me first, Layala.”