Page 120 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

As soon as I respond, I hear fast footsteps hurrying my way.

“If she’s been hurt in any way—” Vaeril’s words echo through the long corridor, but even I can hear the threat in his growling voice.

“I promise you, Lord Vaeril, no one has laid a hand on her,” Kaelir responds sternly, and I get the impression he’s offended at the implication that something might happen to me on his watch.

“Vaeril, stop harassing my friend,” I call out, just as he appears in front of my cell.

He freezes when he sees me standing there and looks me over, as if inspecting me for injuries. I could complain, but I’m doing the same. His colour is back now, his signature frown creasing his brow. The loose overshirts he had been wearing since we escaped didn’t do him any justice, and I have to drag my eyes away from his form-fitting, deep blue jacket. Bronze embroidery depicts an intricate dragon on each shoulder, along with matching bronze buttons down the front of the jacket. His hair has been washed and part of it is braided like I’m used to seeing, but unlike usual, he has bronze threads woven into the braids.

“Are you okay?” I ask, breaking the silence that is growing between us.

Glancing over his shoulder, he looks at Kaelir. “Open the door.”

Shifting awkwardly on his feet, the guard gestures towards me. “Sir, she—”

“I said, open the door!” Vaeril orders, cutting the other elf off before he can explain.

Striding forward, I grab the bars on the door and yank it open. A brief expression of surprise crosses his face, but just as soon it’s open, he bursts through and sweeps me up into his arms. A huge weight that I hadn’t realised I was carrying suddenly lifts from my shoulders as I wrap my arms around him. I don’t know what this thing is between us, but right now, I don’t care. I just need to feel him, to know he’s okay. Burying his face in my hair, I just enjoy this moment, sure that as soon as he gets over his initial shock, he’ll go back to being the cool, indifferent elf from before.

“Alina,” he whispers, and he says it like I’m the most precious thing in his life. It awakens me, revitalises me. Pulling away from our embrace, he looks down at me, his eyes flicking over me again as if to check I’m okay. He opens his mouth to say something, but I place a hand on his chest to stop him, enjoying the texture of the rich fabric under my fingers.

“Did they heal you?” Logically, I know they must have, since he was in a magical coma the last time I saw him. He looks healthy, but I can still see a tightness on his face, so I know something must still be causing him pain.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replies, but his eyes are on my hand, which is still resting against his chest. Feeling my gaze on him, he looks up and meets my eyes with an assessing look. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Kaelir looked after me. He kept me safe,” I tell him with a smile, and over Vaeril’s shoulder, I can see my favourite guard standing tall with a small, proud smile.

“In a prison cell,” he growls, attempting to turn to face the guard, but I reach out and stop him. None of this is Kaelir’s fault and I won’t have him blamed for any of this.

“The queen ordered that. I don’t think she likes me much.” My smile turns wry as I remember the look on her face. If she had her way, I would be dead or spending the rest of my life locked up down here.

“She doesn’t have to like you, but she has to respect who you are to me.” As soon as the words leave his lips, he freezes, and panic enters his gaze. I stare at him with wide eyes.

Did he just say what I think he did?

“And who am I to you?” I press, trying to keep my voice light when all I want to do is shake him.

He looks uncomfortable and lifts his hand up to brush his hair. “Well,” he starts, flustered. “You’re my Alina, you helped me escape. You deserve respect,” he explains, but I get the impression it’s more than that. Plus, the way everyone keeps saying I’m his Alina makes it seem like it’s something more than just a nickname.

“Right.” I don’t mean for it to sound sarcastic, but it comes out that way. “Respect is not what I sense from your queen. In fact, she wants me dead.”

Placing both hands on my shoulders, he waits until I raise my eyes to meet his. “Clarissa, you will be safe here. I won’t let her hurt you, and you will never be a slave again, I promise this.” He says it with such certainty, the pull between us practically humming, that I want to believe him, I do, but my life has taught me that promises can be broken.

“You can’t promise me that. What if I get taken by the humans—” My heart aches, torn between practicality and hope. Before Grayson, I never had that, it’s something he taught me was okay, was right, but this seems like some sort of dream, a fantasy my brain has concocted to protect me from the trauma of being a slave.

“They won’t lay a hand on you.” His grip tightens on my shoulders. “If they want to get to you, they’ll have to go through me.”

It’s poetic, and his pretty words make me smile, but we both know he can’t promise that, he can’t be with me all the time. Even if he could somehow stay with me always, there is nothing to say that he would be able to protect me. I’ve seen him fight, I know how strong he is, but if it was him against an army? If I was asked to choose between being a slave again to save his life, or to be free and watch him die, I know what I would do.

That thought strikes a bell within me. Taking a small step backwards to put some space between us, I clasp one of his hands from my shoulder, holding it. He looks from our joined hands and back to my face, his frown deepening.

“Vaeril, I won’t be a slave again.” I take a deep breath, watching his face darken. We hadn’t discussed this before when we were escaping, but it’s something that has been growing inside me, and I know it would destroy me to be a slave once more. “If they get me—”

“They won’t,” he interrupts angrily, his voice so deep now it’s practically a growl as he closes the distance between us.

“But if they do, Vaeril, I want you to kill me,” I demand, shaking him slightly, needing him to hear what I’m saying and not just blindly ignoring the fact that this could happen. “I won’t go back to that life.”

He falls silent, feeling the truth of my words. I feel a slight tug in my chest, and I know he’s reaching for the connection between us. He nods, obviously finding what he was looking for. “Only if you promise the same to me.”

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