Page 48 of The Elven Healer's Apprentice

“Yes. And time is of the essence. Someone tricked her into leaving the protections of my wards, and she was last seen inthe company of a changeling. The witness said she was under a compulsion spell and headed toward Eldarlan’s border.”

“Which border?” Illeron asked as calmly as if we were discussing our choices for lunch. He flicked the corner of one of the maps stacked on the table, grabbed another map beneath it, and drew the second map out with a flourish. Spreading the parchment out, he then rotated it so the portion displaying my compound rested closest.

By recalling my conversation with Lippin, I came to a hard conclusion. “I didn’t ask.”

Illeron nodded, as though this wasn’t a great failing. “I would guess they will cross here toward Hectorius’ land. It would make the most sense, considering they are probably bounty hunters, and she has a price on her head.”

“What price?” I demanded. I was willing to wager a great deal that Adela had done nothing to anyone worth a price on her head. “Who wants her dead?”

“I didn’t say dead.” Illeron eyed me with marked interest. “Though I suspect her father wishes her dead, he put out the price for her alive. He has clarified that he wishes to take her life personally.”

The panicky sensation in my chest blossomed into a demand for action. But what action could I take? I was a healer, not a warrior. My nemeses were disease, decay, sickness, infection. Facing off against all of them had not prepared me to fight for the one thing that really mattered, Adela.

“Breathe.” Emrys’ hand shook my shoulder. “Stop panicking. You are not alone. If you want her back, we will help. Illeron is already trying to find her, and between us, we have more than enough warriors to rescue her.”

“What can I do?” I asked, helplessly.

Illeron rejoined us at the table after dismissing another shadow elf. “Compose yourself. We found her but extracting herwill take finesse. We don’t want war, but we also don’t want Hectorius coming after her again.” He eyed Emrys. “I suggest an official visit from the elf king might be in order?”

Emrys nodded. “Reminding him of my power and how badly I might respond to illegal actions being committed within my borders. Should I mention how closely related I am to my official royal healer? I would see such an attack against Merlon as offense against me.”

Illeron nodded. “That should do it. I will leave the wording to you.”

Emrys smirked. “I’m honored that you trust me to that extent.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Illeron muttered. “Now, while you do that, we will extract the prisoner as carefully as possible. A sudden disappearance from a locked room under the noses of the guards should have the effect we are seeking. What do you think, Merlon?”

I nodded, struggling with the urge to ask why we were still standing there. We knew where she was. Why not just go get her?

Chapter Fifteen

Adela

Half a day after luring me past the confines of Merlon’s compound, the human-farmer-turned-changeling, finally came to a halt in his trekking. “Caught her,” he announced before dumping me in the dirt.

Rolling over so I was on my side, I pulled my knees up to my chest and tried to make myself small while still glimpsing my surroundings. Trussed up hand and foot, I didn’t have a great range of motion, but I could at least do that.

We were in the center of a clearing. The remnants of a camp lay in the center of the open space. A banked fire and a pile of provisions were the chief evidence.

Thankfully, my captor hadn’t taken the time to gag me before hauling me across the Eldarlan border like a piece of luggage. I could breathe, and if I got the chance, scream. Not that there was much chance of being heard by anyone who would help. If I could gain my feet, I could hop away. I knew it was a slight possibility, but I had to try something and soon. I scanned the edge of the trees.

But before I could choose a direction, my captor’s partner emerged from thin air. One moment she wasn’t there and the next she was. “Might you at least try to muffle your steps,Murk?” she demanded sourly. “I could hear your approach long before you appeared.”

She stood as tall as any elf male I had met. Her olive-toned skin and human-like features were stunningly beautiful. But the clawed fingers and curling horns jutting from her dark hair clearly declared she was not human. Statuesque and muscled, she moved like a warrior. I wagered she trained more than her partner.

“Poor bit,” the female cooed as she hauled me up by the back of my kirtle, making it cut into my armpits. “What did you do?”

I tried not to resist. Better for them to think I was compliant and broken so they wouldn’t be as vigilant.

“The human supposedly cursed and killed the warlord’s son. I don’t see how. She doesn’t possess a lick of magic.”

The changeling no longer appeared human or poor. His marbled skin shifted between pink and a strange shade of orange, which seemed to change with his mood. Despite his vibrant skin color, his natural form—a stocky six-limbed body with tiny, feathered ears—gave off the impression of being violently male. Even his coarse, blue-streaked gray hair gave off a masculine effect.

He hunkered down next to me and began sharpening a knife as his partner set about breaking up camp. The embers of a fire had been scattered and covered in dirt.

“Perhaps it’s to save face,” the female suggested as she packed the last of the gear.

Murk snorted. “Sounds like a human excuse.”

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