Page 208 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Turning back to Revna, I see she’s watching me with a severe frown, but she nods her head sharply. I grab her hand and squeeze it once in gratitude, our eyes meeting, and her expression softens slightly.

“Take me to the elves,” I say to the watchman who whirls around to face me with a frown, glancing at his chief as if he can’t quite believe I’m giving him orders.

Any softness that was on her expression has completely disappeared as she stares at the watchman, a slight frown marring her brow. “Do as she says.” Her tone makes it obvious she won’t be telling him twice.

Understanding he’s close to overstepping his place, he quickly crosses his fist over his chest in a show of respect. “Yes, Chief!” Gesturing for me to follow him, he turns without another word and makes his way through the tents. We follow, Revna accompanying us, until we reach one of the edges of camp.

I can’t see much, as a wall of tribespeople block my view, all of whom have their weapons drawn. Although the atmosphere is tense, it feels more uncertain than hostile.Maybe these elves really have come in peace, my mind whispers, hoping and praying that my instincts are right. I’m not sure I could cope with another attack so soon after the last one, although with the queen, I shouldn’t rule anything out.

When we reach the blockade of warriors, I pause and take a deep breath. Feeling my hesitation, Tor and Vaeril step up, each placing a hand on my back, their bonds helping to ground me. With them at my side, I know I can do this. The only person who’s missing is my mage, my chest throbbing at the loss. Pushing that aside, I roll my shoulders back and hold my head high, knowing Eldrin and Naril are just behind me should I need them.

“Let me through.” I don’t raise my voice, but it seems to have an instant effect. The warriors pull back, allowing myself and my friends through, with Revna and some of the gathered chiefs following.

My composure breaks as soon as I see the elves standing in a huddle. There are about ten of them, and unlike the elves at my side, they are all shapes and sizes, their skin different hues of greens and browns, identifying them for what they are—wood elves. They look so out of place in the open rocky clearing. Beingso far away from the forest they love and made their home in is obviously having an effect on them, making them feel exposed, which is evident in the way they cluster together.

Seeing the two elves at the front of the group, I can’t hold back my smile as I hurry over to them, not caring that we’re being watched.

“Speaker Hawthorn! Speaker Fawne!”

Hawthorn smiles warmly at me, his dark, bark-like skin wrinkling slightly as he moves. The speaker took me under his wing during my visit with the wood elves and showed me much kindness. My attention is pulled to the other speaker at his side as she dips into a deep curtsy. Fawne is beautiful, with her pale skin, but what makes her stand out are the stunning, delicate antlers that protrude from her hair. Speaker Fawne believes I am a goddess reincarnate, so she treats me with reverence whenever we’re together.

Vaeril, Eldrin, and Naril are standing with me now and dip their heads in greeting, and I notice several of the wood elves watching them nervously.

“Beloved, we found you,” Speaker Hawthorn rasps, his voice breathy, causing Speaker Fawne to place an arm around him.

My joy at seeing them overshadowed my worry about why they were here, but I see now that Hawthorn doesn’t look well. In fact, his skin appears tight, and he’s swaying slightly. His voice has always sounded like the wind blowing through the leaves in the trees, but he sounds off, exhausted. Hawthorn must see something on my face as he steps towards me, only to stumble and collapse to the ground. Vaeril moves forward as quick as a flash and catches the speaker, lowering him gently to the earth. I can see now that his legs are completely mangled. Black growths have doubled the size of his usually thin, stick-like legs, and they look to be crawling their way up his limbs.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I look from his collapsed form to a pained-looking Fawne. “What happened to him?” I try to keep the panic from my voice, but it sneaks in despite the wall of calm I try to build around myself.

Crouching at his side, Fawne brushes some of his tawny hair from his face and grips his hand. She glances up at me, and I see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Beloved, you must save him.” There are murmurings of agreement from the gathered wood elves, and I feel all eyes land on me.

Mother above,I curse, feeling my palms sweat as the pressure mounts.How am I supposed to heal him? I can’t do that!A storm of doubt, pain, and regret twist in my mind as I look at the expectant elves. They all believe me to be capable of saving their speaker, they brought him here to me, but I have no healing abilities.

Something brushes against my fingers, bringing me out of my panic. Glancing down, I see that Hawthorn has reached up with his willowy limbs. Taking his hand, I sit at his side and lean forward when I notice he’s trying to say something. “The queen, she knew we supported you. She’s poisoning the forest with her darkness.”

I pull back with a frown, feeling my anger awaken within me as my gaze returns to the black growths on his legs. Even though only a short time has passed, they look larger than before and the darkness has spread, and the speaker’s breathing is more laboured. This is no illness, no accident. This was a targeted attack. An icy calm takes over me. “The queen did this to you?”

Speaker Hawthorn squeezes my hand again, pulling my eyes back up to his, although his grip is getting weaker and weaker. “It’s a spell, beloved.”

“Spell breaker,” one of the elves whispers, and my head whips up. I don’t catch who says it, but they’re right.

I realise now I misinterpreted the message from the trees.They need you, they told me. I assumed they meant the tribes, that with the arrival I was being warned the tribes would need my presence. But all along, it was the elves who needed me, Speaker Hawthorn who needed me.

Hope blooms in my chest. Perhaps I can save him after all. One of my goddess given gifts is the ability to break spells, and if they’re right and this isa spell, then I should be able to remove it. Glancing over my shoulder, I look at Vaeril and Tor, then flick my gaze to Eldrin and Naril. One by one, the elves nod their support. Revna is standing next to Tor with her arms crossed over her chest, her expression concerned, and I can understand her apprehension. She’s not seen me break a spell yet, and she has no idea who these elves are who have turned up so soon after the attack, but she trusts me. She’s leaving the decision up to me. Tor, ever steady Tor, quirks his lips up into a smile, and I know he’ll support me in whatever I decide to do. But really there was never any question of whether or not I was going to try and break the spell, but if I’m able to, if I am strong enough to…

Focusing on my breathing, I gently pull my hand from Hawthorn’s grip and shake out my fingers. His legs look so painful, yet he doesn’t make a single noise of pain or complaint, simply watching me with calm acceptance. When I place my hands on his legs, I instantly feel the spell there and it pulls me in, sucking at my energy as I fight against it. The spell is strong, it’s draining my energy at an alarming rate, and I’m already exhausted from earlier. I shift my weight, trying to pull away slightly, but my hands are stuck, glued to the spot, the magic fixing me in place as it eats away at my strength piece by piece.

My heart sinks, this was a trap. The queen attacked Hawthorn knowing he would come to me. She made sure to use a spell that wouldn’t kill him, only maim him, making sure he would arrive here, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist tryingto break the spell. Somehow, she’s getting stronger. This spell is unlike anything I’ve felt before, parasitic in nature. I can’t even speak to tell the others I’m trapped, that I made a mistake, so I push my feelings down the bond, needing them to know how I feel about them as my vision starts to dim.

Warmth surrounds me, and until that moment, I hadn’t realised how cold I was. I’m unable to move my head to see where the heat is coming from, but that place in my chest where my bonds sit is warm. Sound returns to me next, and I can hear whispers, male voices.

“Fight that bitch, Clarissa. You’re stronger than her.” Tor. That’s Tor’s deep voice on my left. He’s pressed up against me, his beard tickling my chin.

“Alina,”a lighter, slightly accented voice calls on my right. Vaeril.“Push her back, feel our connection,” he instructs, stroking the length of my arm.

Someone shifts at my back, and I realise there’s someone else behind me. An unmistakable male chest is pressed against my back, his arms wrapped around my waist. “Don’t you dare leave me,” he whispers harshly, his hold tightening as if he could pull me away. Eldrin.

I don’t think he meant for the others to hear it, but of course they did, their bodies stiffening against mine.

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