Page 16 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

Her pretty face scrunched in disgust as she glared at the dwarf behind her. “Really? No. Living in Helheimr sucked away my energy and my powers. I almost died. The only option was for my father to take me to Midgard. His brother, Olivier, and his wife, Jessica, already lived in France, so it seemed like the natural solution for us to live there too.

Since my mother was charged with ruling Niflheimr, she had to stay there, which added another layer of protection for me from her father. Loki is so twisted. Just when you think he may be turning a new leaf and acting right, he does something stupid for more power—at least, he tries. He never succeeds but does end up hurting a lot of people.”

“Great.” Castien groaned. “My best friend has a psychotic grandfather. Sadly, I believe I met him a long time ago. Anyone else in your family tree I should know about?”

“Yep. My maternal uncle is Fenrir.”

A choking sound came from the darkness spreading out behind her. Her gaze rose to meet Cyran’s, who fought to hide his grin. He could like this female. Intelligent, pretty, and had a wicked sense of humor. She was just his type…that is, if he were looking for a specific type. And he wasn’t.

It was odd, but she seemed to glow in the darkened hall. Her thick black braid rested over one shoulder. His gaze lowered to her narrow waist, dirty tights accentuating her long, supple legs. Perfect legs. Still, if he were looking for a woman…

Shaking his head, he returned to the task at hand, which was finding the other female and the way out of the prison. “Where is your friend?”

“Excuse me? Oh, you mean Soliana? I don’t know where she is. When the dwarves captured us, we were separated. The imposter king mentioned her, so I know she is still alive. I can only assume she’s also imprisoned somewhere in this palace. I haven’t had the chance to roam about to find her.”

“Great. Locating her will be like looking for a spider in a woodpile. Why do I always get the impossible jobs?” He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, staring at the strange images carved into every surface. He listened, but no sounds came from the other side. “The fighting must have gone up into the main part of the palace because I don’t hear anything nearby.”

He glanced at Shalendra and the dwarf, both wide-eyed and apprehensive…not to mention dirty. The dwarf had smudges of what he hoped was dirt on his cheeks and hands. Shalendra had a few streaks, but it didn’t deter from her looks at all. She was still beautiful.

“What if it’s a trap?” She chewed on her bottom lip, evidence of her growing nervousness. “Something isn't right about all of this—the disappearing prisoners, the timing of the battle...”

“Gut feeling?” Cyran asked. She nodded. “Never ignore that because, most times, your instinct is trying to tell you something important. Can you tell me more about why you think this is a trap?”

“You,” she whispered, then covered her face with her hands. “Oh, I have no idea.”

He pulled her hands away and stared into the depths of her sapphire eyes. Even in the dim light, the glistening shades of blue reminded him of the gemstone. “What does my appearance have to do with any of this?”

Her hands went limp as he held her by the wrists. “I don’t have a clue. About three days ago, the guards would come down to our cell block and take a prisoner somewhere, but the prisoner never returned.”

“They might have been released.”

Castien let out a dry chuckle. “Not in this prison. Once here, no one ever returns to the outside.” His eyes widened as he turned to Shalendra. “I think I know how long the demon has been here.”

“Wait,” Cyran interrupted. “What makes you think there’s a demon here?”

“The prisoners are the key.” He glanced over at Cyran. “About a year ago, the king rescinded most of the laws he had created, and instead of a prisoner serving a certain length of time for whatever crime they had committed, no one ever returned to the village. Over the next few months, more and more villages reported the same thing. People were arrested, sentenced without a hearing, and never returned home.”

“So, you think the demon has been here that long?” she asked.

Castien nodded. “I do.”

“That still doesn’t explain why my appearance has anything to do with this,” Cyran’s glance moved from the dwarf to the elf, feeling as if he was getting only part of the story and didn’t like it.

“I think I might understand what she means.” Castien laid his hand on her shoulder. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the fighting began moments before you appeared. It’s like you were expected. No one inside this palace would dare go up against the king, never mind that he’s also a demon. The king is exalted in this realm. My people believe we were cursed because the king set himself up as a god, and the gods typically don’t like that.”

“A few of my friends would, indeed, take offense to that,” Cyran's gaze held Shalendra’s. “Including your mother.”

She smiled back, and some of the anxiety eased from her face. “True. My mother would be so offended.”

Realizing his fingers were still wrapped around her wrists, he let them drop. Grabbing the heavy, wrought-iron lever, he pulled down the end, releasing the door catch. “I’ve never shied away from a fight and don’t intend to start now. Let’s find out who’s behind this door, shall we?”

6

“Wait,” Cyran hesitated. With a quick flick of one wrist, his magic washed over Shalendra, bathing her in a white light and turning her filthy clothes into a new outfit. He liked how the black leggings accentuated her never-ending legs, but he switched her shirt to a soft teal to match her eyes.

Castien’s filthy attire was also changed, and he now wore black pants with a white peasant shirt. The dwarf smiled in appreciation and nodded, his hand resting over his breastbone.

Before she could react, he shoved his way through the heavy door. From the soft pitter patters behind him, the female and her sidekick followed. Stopping in the center of the circular space, he glanced around, wondering why a metal wall surrounded them. It was an unusual room décor.

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