Page 26 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Once the door has been unlocked and the keys returned to the safety of the guards’ pockets, several of them step forward and grip onto the edges of the door. The other guards raise their crossbows and aim. As if by some unspoken signal, the guards pull, their muscles bunching under their uniforms as they haul open the heavy door.

“May the Mother be with you, 625,” the quiet guard whispers in my ear, before another shoves me in. The guards’ laughter follows me as I enter the darkness.

The door shuts behind me, the locks clunking into place and sealing me in with…whoever “he” is that the guards kept talking about. It’s dark in here, but I can see a glow coming from around a corner just ahead of me. My mind starts to play tricks on me, the stories told amongst the slaves prominent in my thoughts. Dragons, beasts, and monsters so terrifying that they cause you to die of fear just by looking in their eyes. Is that what the guard was warning me about?

Don’t look him in the eyes.

No, dragons haven’t been seen in centuries, there’s no way that the king has managed to capture one and keep it a secret below the castle. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a monster in here though, and I’ve learned the hard way that monsters don’t have to look scary or hideous to be evil.

My eyes start to adjust, and I realise I’m in a short corridor that looks like it opens up into a room. To my right, I see an alcove full of mops, buckets, and other cleaning supplies just as the guard had told me. Reaching out, I grab a broom and clutch it to my chest like a lifeline. It’s not going to do much to protectme against a dragon or another horrible beast, but it makes me feel better. Taking a few steps forward, I pause as I reach the end of the corridor and assess what I know so far. I’m deep beneath the castle, locked away with something dangerous. They wouldn’t have this much protection against it if they didn’t fear whatever was here.

What is it, and why have they kept it a secret?

It’s hot down here, so much so I can feel sweat start to bead on my forehead and the small of my back. Now that I’m farther away from the door, I can hear a deep roaring sound, not what I’d imagine a dragon to sound like, but like the noise a large fire would make. I can also hear a banging. I hadn’t heard it before over the roaring noise, but now I realise it sounds like metal against metal.

Frowning, I step out from the corridor to see if my guess is right, my fear forgotten for a moment as my curiosity gets the better of me.

I was right, it’s a forge.

The room is large with high, arching ceilings. We must be really deep below the castle if they managed to create this. Along the whole back wall is a large forge, the flames licking at the coal inside. Anvils and other paraphernalia that I’ve never seen before lie out on work tables. I haven’t gone far into the room, the wall to the corridor acting like a shield in case I need it against whoever, or whatever, is locked away in here. I’m confused, if this is a prison for a monster, why is there a forge in here?

Movement catches my eye and I jump back behind the wall, peeking out after a second to see what it was. Confusion floods me, and I tentatively push away from the wall and walk out into plain sight, not that he can see me. He has his back to me, and an emotion I’ve never experienced before rolls through me, I can’t quite put a name to it. It’s like I’m being drawn to him,like a physical pull that I have to resist with every fibre of my being. Unaware that I’m standing at the back of the room, the man picks up a sword, striding over to the forge and thrusting the metal into the flames. I don’t know how he can stand to be so close to the fire, the heat even from here is scorching. As he stands there with his back to me, I decide to examine him, tilting my head to one side as I take him in. He just looks like a normal man, so why is he locked away down here?

He wears dark leggings that hug his muscular legs, but what really catches my attention are the muscles on his shirtless back that move and ripple as he stokes the fire. His skin is pale like mine and his back is covered in scars. This man has experienced pain, you can tell from the scars that weave a story on his flesh and the way he stands. He’s tall, and although muscular, he’s also slim in build through years of hard labour. I can’t see his face, his long blond hair casting a curtain to hide it, the rest of the hair falling to just below his shoulder blades.

I bet he’s pretty.I’m not sure where that thought came from, it’s certainly inappropriate seeing as this guy may be the death of me.People don’t get locked up for no reason, I tell myself, but something niggles in the back of my mind, something that has been deeply buried but wants to be heard.

“Come to torment me some more?”

I almost drop the broom that’s clutched to my chest as he speaks, his accented voice reaching me from the other side of the room. I can’t work out where his accent is from, but then again, I haven’t visited much of our kingdom, so that’s not surprising.

“I can hear you breathing, don’t think to trick me again.” His words are like a whip, lashing out and making me gasp. How can he hear me breathing from there? No human can hear that far. The man whirls around with unnatural speed as he hears my gasp, his face contorting as he sees me. “A girl?” he growls, spitting into the forge with disgust, the fire sizzling in response.Pulling the blade from the fire, he walks to the anvil, his eyes flicking over to me every few seconds as if he’s trying but justcan’tlook away. Despite the guard’s warning, I can’t take my eyes off him. That feeling that I should be here, that something important is happening, guides my actions. Everything I’ve learned and seen here is starting to pull together in my mind, and a sense of dread starts to rise within me.

Reaching out, the man grabs a hammer and starts to pound the sword. His whole body ripples with his strength, and it’s as if I’m watching in slow motion as his hair shifts, revealing the sharp points of his ears.

“Elf.” The word tastes like acid on my tongue, ringing around the room like an alarm, time suddenly returning to normal speed as I stumble back. I’m going to die, that’s why the priest sent me here, he doesn’t have to kill me, the enemy will. That way he gets his wish and manages to escape punishment from Grayson, and if I somehow survive this encounter, it’s not as if I can tell anyone about it. They would kill me if they ever found out I’d told someone, and other than Grayson, no one would believe me.

“Those scum are now sending in a girl to do their dirty work?” His richly accented words reach me, and I find my anger and hatred growing. This is the enemy, even as slaves we had that ingrained into us—elves are evil and untrustworthy. Why would they have an elf, a sworn enemy to Arhaven, working below the castle?

The pounding of the hammer on the anvil rings in my ears and I watch, transfixed by his movements. I should be scared, but I’m filled with a mixture of awe and hate. It’s a strange combination, that feeling tugging at my chest again, but I can’t pull my gaze away from him. His face is distinctly feline, his almond-shaped eyes tilting up at the ends, the dazzling green of his irises obvious even from this distance. I was right, he ispretty. His long hair that I first thought was blond in the light of the forge is actually white, with his distinctive pointed ears poking through as he works. Placing his hammer down, he picks up the sword, pointing it at me before throwing it in a bucket of water on the floor next to the forge, the hot metal hissing.

“They think I won’t kill you?” he sneers, stepping towards me threateningly. My heart seems to stop in my chest, but I stand my ground as he eats up the space between us with his long legs, stopping suddenly as if he’s jerked backward. A familiar clinking of metal makes me frown. His expression is feral, and I pull my gaze away and look down at his feet, my eyes widening at the chains that encircle his ankles. I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s not here willingly, of course he’s going to be shackled.

He’s like me,my inner voice whispers, but I force that thought away. We’re nothing alike, he’s an elf, he’s the enemy. Years of sermons from the priests flash through my head, reaffirming the same message. Elves are evil. Yet here, locked away underground and chained next to a burning forge, I can’t help but compare us.

As a slave, you were also an enemy to the kingdom.Shaking my head, I look back up at the elf, his eyes narrowing and his lips lifting in a snarl as I meet his gaze.

“No, that’s exactly what they hope you’ll do,” I reply honestly, standing my ground even though my body betrays me, my hands shaking as I ball them into fists. He’s inches from me, if he reaches out he could grab my arm, but instead he watches me with narrowed eyes as if I’m something completely alien to him.

“What unholy magic is this?” Again, he spits the words out, like every second he is forced to talk to me pains him.

Perhaps it does, I know I’d rather be anywhere else than here right now.Again, some part of me whispers that I’m lying, that I’m exactly where I need to be. A noise of frustration escapesme before I can stop it, pushing those traitorous, confusing thoughts deep down.

“What do you mean?” I shouldn’t be talking to him, encouraging conversation, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

He seems to struggle for his next words, gesturing to his chest and letting out a noise of frustration when I look at him in confusion. “You don’t have the word in your language.” His tone implies it’s my fault that he can’t find the word he needs, as if I was the one to create the language, and I find myself narrowing my eyes. “The pull,” he finally grits out, as if the words pain him, stopping my angry retort before I could voice it. Fear surges through me.He can feel it too?

“I don’t know what you mean.”

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