Page 91 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“If that’s the case, then you won’t mind me eating from Lady Aileen’s box.” Cutting off the king, I reach down and lift the chocolate to my mouth. My body fills with a sharp, bone racking pain as soon as I touch it, the agony intensifying the closer I bring it to my mouth. My wrist glows, and I know I was right. Aileen was going to die tonight.

“Aileen, it’s okay.” I look down at her with a gentle smile. She slowly nods and lifts the chocolate from my box, placing it in her mouth.

“How dare—” The king is turning a shade of red that can’t be healthy, but I don’t give him the chance to say anything further. Parting my lips, I lift the chocolate higher, about to place it onmy tongue, and I wonder if I’ve taken the wrong gamble. Is he going to make me eat it anyway?

“Okay, stop. Stop!” the king shouts amid gasps from those around us. I was right. Turning, I face Wilson and lean over, placing a hand against his cheek.

“Thank you for everything, you can’t imagine how much you have changed my life just by being in it.” My chest tightens and my voice goes high.

I will not cry. I will not cry,I chant, hoping that if I think it enough, it will come true. He opens his mouth to say something, and I can see the fight in his eyes, so I cut him off. “Protect Aileen until she can return to her father.”

With that, I pull away and stand up straight, looking towards the king as I smile and drop into a curtsy. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Your Majesty.”

Stepping away from the table, I adjust my skirts and stroll up the hall towards the large double doors which, mercifully, are still open. I keep my steps steady and unhurried, which is my hardest task when all I want to do is run as fast as I can. The guards are watching me with a mixture of anger and confusion, and I know they are just waiting for the order to capture me, to kill me. But I have leverage, and I know the king won’t kill me, at least not here.

Reaching the door, I don’t look back as I pass it, no matter how much I want to. Finally out of sight, I lift my skirts and I run. I sprint through the blessedly deserted hallways, my body protesting. Tears finally escape from my eyes, tracking down my cheeks. The shoes are tight on my feet and keep trying to slip off, and as I round a corner they slide again and trip me. With a cry, I sprawl across the floor, quickly pushing myself up and kicking off the shoes with a sob. Picking up my skirts once again, I run towards the staircase that will take me down to the underground chamber. I want to go back to my rooms, pack some things totake with me, and say goodbye to Jayne, but I know I don’t have time, that’s the first place they would look for me.

Reaching the hidden alcove, I slip in and hurry down the stairs, my breath coming in sharp pants. I’m about halfway down when I remember the guards at the bottom of the stairs. How am I going to get past them? There are always at least four guards watching Vaeril at any one time. I am wholly unprepared. How is one skinny ex-slave going to overpower four trained soldiers?

A strange sound reaches me, and I frown and lean against the wall as I try to figure out what it is. Another ‘oomph’ makes its way up the staircase and I realise it’s people fighting.

Vaeril.

Panic unlike anything I’ve ever known fills me, and without thinking, I dash down the rest of the stairs.

They’re hurting him.The thought just keeps floating around my head, drowning out all other reason, and it’s what gives me the strength to make it the rest of the way down. Reaching the bottom, I gape at what I see before me.

A crossbow is aimed at Vaeril’s chest as he fights with another guard. With teeth bared, he places his hands on either side of the guard’s head and twists. There is a loud snap and he drops the guard’s body as the light leaves his eyes.

Hearing my gasp, he turns towards me. “Clarissa.”

“Watch out!” I scream, running towards the remaining guard who moves his crossbow from the elf to me. I don’t think, I just keep running. An inhuman sound fills the room, and in a flash, Vaeril barrels into the guard, knocking the crossbow away as it fires so the arrow misses me by inches as I drop to the ground, arms up to protect my head. Gurgling makes me look up, and I see that Vaeril has his hand around the guard’s throat, lifting him off the ground as he squeezes.

That’s what the gurgling noise is,I think dumbly, as I try to process what’s happening. The guard is struggling, clawing at the elf’s hand, but it’s useless against his supernatural strength. He’s gaping now, panic entering his eyes as he realises he’s going to die.

“Vaeril,” I call, flinching at how quickly his head turns toward me. In this moment, I’m reminded exactly what he is—with his full power restored, thanks to me. “This is cruel.”

“He tried to kill you,” he counters while staring at me, his body completely still other than the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“I’m okay,” I assure him, pushing upright so he can see that I tell the truth. “Please.” The words are tight as the reality of what happened tonight hits me.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

A low growling noise emits from his chest and he looks away, only to reach up with his other hand and snap the guard’s neck. Throwing the now limp body to the ground, he turns to face me.

I look around the room and see the bodies of all five guards. The space is a mess, with broken furniture scattered about and arrows lodged into the wall where they tried to fire at Vaeril. Glancing back at him, I see a couple of cuts on his bare chest and arms.

I give in to that tight pull in my chest and move towards him. As if we’re attached, he takes a staggering step closer to me at the same time.

“You’re bleeding.”

“You’ve been crying.”

We speak at the same time, coming to a stop when we are just an arm’s length apart. He looks down at his chest and shrugs as I reach up and wipe at my cheeks.

“We need to leave. Now.” My urgency returns and I glance at the staircase as if guards are going to come streaming down at any moment.

“I know.” He turns away and hurries back inside the room with the forge. Going straight to one of the workbenches, he opens a drawer, and pulls out a bag and a loose white shirt which he pulls on over his head. Reaching across the top, he grabs the hammer and several other tools which he slides into the bag. He picks up the pack, puts it on, and then pulls a cloak from the drawer and wraps it around his shoulders. Jogging back over, he comes to a stop in front of me, his breathing accelerated and eyes alight.

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