Page 149 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Stretching both legs out in front of me, I follow his instructions and feel the panic start to fade away with each breath. Embarrassment soon replaces it though, and as I open my eyes that I hadn’t even realised I closed, I glance around the training area. I feel relief flood me as I see it’s completely empty. I don’t know where the other elves have gone, but I’m glad no one else is here to see this right now.

We sit together in silence, and I’m grateful for that as I regain control of my mind. Sighing, I look up and see he’s still staring at my ankles, his expression pensive, deep in thought. “Eldrin,” I call softly. His stony eyes slide up to my face before looking back at my ankles and the scars there.

“Your ankles…” He trails off as if he doesn’t know what to say or how to put it into words. Shaking his head, he seems to give up.

Taking pity on him, I clear my throat. “They chained our ankles together to stop us from running away.” My voice is quiet but steady. Eldrin looks up at me, his face carefully neutral as I speak, as if any emotion might spook me. “Sometimes they would put cuffs on our wrists, but they realised that we couldn’t work as effectively if our hands were bound.” I raise both wrists to show the pale skin there. Thankfully the only marks I still carry with me are my goddess mark and my slave brands, all other scratches and wounds disappeared over time. “The cuffs were tight and would rub. Some of the slaves would get unlucky and get an infection in the wounds under the cuffs. They were too tight to be able to clean the wound properly, and a lot of slaves died because of it.” My voice is even now, as if I’m simply discussing the weather and not the death of dozens of slaves. I’m staring at my ankles and the ruined trousers, but I’m not really paying attention. My thoughts are on the slaves who died. I feel numb.

“Clarissa, look.”

I look up automatically, following his direction, and see that he’s gesturing to his neck. Frowning, I try to work out what I’m looking at. The skin there is raised, and parts of it are paler than the rest of his skin. That’s when it hits me. His are much more faded than mine, but I would recognise those scars anywhere. Shock breaks through my stupor.

“You were chained up,” I say with certainty, my voice quiet. I’m pretty sure he’s only telling me this because he feels bad that he, in part, triggered my attack, but I know now why I’m drawn to him—shared experience.

“Yes,” he confirms. His body is completely still, and although he tries to hide it, I can feel his pain rolling off of him at having to relive it. He could have said nothing, and I still would’ve known that I was right.

“What happened?” My voice is soft and timid now that my adrenaline is fading. I know I shouldn’t ask when it’s obvious how painful he’s finding this, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Once he’s over his shock at seeing me like this, I’m sure he’ll return to his usual self, so I want to ask now while we’re sharing. Shifting his weight, he pushes up to standing and offers me his hand, which I take, shuffling my feet as I wait for his answer.

For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to respond, but he suddenly lets out a deep breath, his eyes studying my face. “I was stupid. I got caught, but the humans…they chained me up.”

It’s a basic explanation by any means, but I appreciate that he told me. Guilt fills me for bringing it up, even though I know I shouldn’t feel that way. After all, he volunteered the information, but I hate seeing him in pain, even if he is a pain in my ass. His golden eyes shine with unexpressed emotion as I shift my legs underneath me. No wonder he hates humans so much when even thinking about it brings him this much turmoil.

He’s caught up in his memories, and I can practically feel his distress as he relives whatever horror my words have awakened. I’m not sure what makes me do it, whether stupidity or the shared pain made me forget how he usually treats me, but I take a step forward and place my hand on his arm. “But you got away.” The words are quiet, but not timid like they were a minute ago. They’re filled with force, a reminder that he’s stronger than his memories.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looks at my hand which is touching his arm, his skin hot beneath mine. A few tense moments pass, but eventually, he lifts his eyes to mine. Again, I don’t think he’s going to say anything, and I get lost in his golden gaze. “So did you.” His growly voice is softer than usual, the velvet timbre rolling over me. I have to remember to breathe as I nod my head in agreement.

“I got away.” Repeating my earlier words, I realise with shock that he’s not looking at me with pity anymore, but respect. I have no doubts that this won’t last long and he’ll soon be biting my head off because I’ve offended him with my presence, but right now, we’re just two survivors.

We continue to stare at each other in silence, and while I’ve still got his respect, I ask something that has been bothering me. “You stood up for me yesterday.” It’s not a question, and it’s not what I really want to ask, which iswhy. Why did he stand up for me when he hates me? He stood between his queen and me, no matter how he tried to cover it. His expression shifts as he watches me warily at the change of subject. He’s silent for a time, and I get the impression he’s remembering the events of yesterday. Not just in the hallway when he protected me from his queen, getting hit in the process, but when he showed up at the ball last night.

I can’t tell if his outburst was because he was truly worried about why Vaeril left the ball with a sour face, or if it’s for some other reason. At this point, I don’t think he’ll tell me, so I push those questions aside as I wait for his reaction to my statement.

Humming low in his throat, he begrudgingly agrees. “I also made you a target for the queen,” he counters, not answering my silent question. It’s true, he made a scene last night. It was embarrassing, and I thought Tor was going to tear into him. However, the queen had already been watching me dance withthe tribesman, she was just looking for an excuse to come over, and Eldrin gave her the perfect in.

“I was already a target for the queen,” I reply lightly, shrugging. “She hates me.”

He laughs, but it’s rueful and without humour. “Ha. Something else we have in common.” His statement makes me chuckle, a short, surprised bark of laughter that brings a small, surprised smile to his face.

We both fall silent again, watching each other with wary smiles. What is this between us? Could this be the start of a friendship between us? Just as I think it, his expression changes into his seemingly permanent frown as he moves back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Right, you’ve rested long enough,” he barks, and gestures to a machine that looks more like a torture device than an exercise machine. “Back to work, princess.”

Nope, I was wrong, definitely not a friendship.

“What the hell is that thing?” I grumble, as we start walking over to the equipment against the far wall. I eye it with a distrustful glare. I don’t trust anything that looks like it could be used to hurt me, and Eldrin can jump off a cliff if he thinks I’m strapping myself to that thing.

Glancing over at me, he grins briefly as he snorts. “No, we’re not using that, it would break you.”

I’m so relieved that I don’t bother to comment on his insult. Stopping as we reach the equipment, I wrap my arms across my chest as I wait for him to explain what he has planned. If I’ve learned anything, it will probably be something that makes me want to strangle him, either from the task itself or his constant insults when I don’t do it how he thinks I should. Eldrin walks over to the bench next to the terrifying machinery and ducks down, rummaging in a box I assumed was a wooden bench. It’s long and stretches about half the length of the wall, the lid liftingto expose a storage area. When he stands up, his arms are laden with black pads.

“Catch,” he calls out before throwing something towards me. Yelping in surprise, I automatically reach out and catch the items, which I now see is a padded helmet and odd padded gloves. I look down at them in confusion as a trickle of dread tries to work its way into my thoughts. “We’re going to spar,” Eldrin explains, picking up more pads which are much larger than what I hold. He slings them over his shoulder and starts walking towards the sparring area in the center of the training yard.

Not moving an inch, I stare at him as he strides away, waiting for him to turn around and tell me he’s just pulling my leg. “You’re joking, right?” I demand, shouting at his back as he places the pads down and wraps some white tape around his knuckles. “Me and you?” The dread is back now, and I feel a little sick at the prospect of fighting with him. Turning, Eldrin raises an eyebrow at my protests and gestures for me to join him. “You’re going to break me!” My complaints fall on deaf ears, and my shoulders droop as I realise I’m not going to get out of this.

“Clarissa.” It’s a demand, not a request.

Groaning, I make my way over to his side. The gloves and helmet I’m holding suddenly feel heavy, like a dragging weight in my hands, making my trek all the more difficult. Eldrin frowns at me as he watches my slow process.

“What’s wrong with you?” His expression says it all, he thinks I’m being a princess, and I brace myself for his snide comments.

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