Page 47 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

Fight for me.This last plea she could not say out loud. She did not think her heart could take it if he refused her. So, in her usual manner, she did what was safe and stayed silent.

A cool breeze hit her back, strong enough for her loose strands of hair to fly forward. Turning her head, the large double ice doors on the other side of the room slid open. Loki stood in the doorway, his hands behind his back and his forearms held by Badoch and Kubrel. The two giants greeted her with friendly grins.

“And the prodigal grandfather returns.” She tried to cover her chuckle with a few coughs. Even Loki’s disgruntled expression made her want to break out into a loud belly laugh.

“Don’t rub it in. It’s beneath the daughter of a goddess. Now, what am I doing here?” He glared at her. “Surely, you don’t expect me to save him now? You didn’t keep up your end of the bargain.”

She returned his stern gaze. “I never mentionedwhen. Whether I rescue you ten minutes from now or ten years, the terms are mine, not yours.”

His brows rose, and the hint of a smile appeared on his thin lips. “Touché, granddaughter. Touché.” He stepped inside, his gaze moving around the room, touching everything and missing nothing, including the protective way she held Cyran to her.

“I take it he isn’t responding to your loving care?” He glared at his guards. The cousins' gazes met, and Loki's arms were freed.

With a haughty expression, her grandfather crossed the room to her, his feet almost floating over the wooden floor planks with barely a sound. Once he reached the thick fur rug, he stopped, his narrowed gaze staring at Cyran’s face.

Without seeing his actual thoughts, Loki’s expressions told her everything. She raised one eyebrow. Of course, he would try…he was Loki. Behind him, Kubrel and Badoch eased closer, not giving Loki a chance for freedom, should he choose to try. But they, too, were concerned about their friend.

She dropped her gaze to Cyran, sensing a subtle change, as if he were fighting whatever held him in its grip and at the same time feeling more distant. “I don’t understand what is wrong with him. He doesn’t seem sick…” She met her grandfather’s gaze. “Please…”

He rolled his eyes and squatted in front of her. “Fine. Just stop asking me, all right?”

A slow grin spread across her face, and she leaned forward, hope surging that Loki would see reason and heal Cyran for her. “You bluster too much. You want to help, and you know it. You don’t want anyone in this room to realize you care,” she whispered.

His twinkling black gaze met hers. “Just keep that tidbit to yourself.” He covered Cyran’s forehead with his palm and closed his eyes. Shalendra held her breath, praying whatever he discovered was reversible.

She caressed Cyran’s cheek, missing his gruffness and aloofness, which, surprisingly, reminded her of Loki. Of course, once Cyran was cured and back to his usual standoffish self, she had no clue how she would feel about the man. Her heart told her, though, he still had a part to play in all of this. Without him, their quest would fail.

Loki pulled back his hand and let out a long exhale, raising his bleak gaze to hers. “Was he shot? I’m getting the impression of his skin being ripped open on his back and neck.”

She frowned up at him. “I’m not sure. The soldiers fired their guns at us as he apparated us out of Midgard…” Then she remembered his ice-covered shirt.

She pushed against his hip hard enough to glance at his back. Sure enough, his shirt was blood-soaked. “Oh my gods, how did I not think to check sooner? He’s in this state because of my carelessness.”

Loki kneeled beside her, shaking his head. “No, granddaughter. You were trying to save him and yourself. There is always a tradeoff in battle. No one, not even the best warriors—including your father—can be everywhere at once or accomplish all tasks. You could not have known. Elf lords are incredibly stubborn. He didn’t want you to know.”

“Cyran is only the royal healer, not an elf lord.”

Loki smiled. “He may not know his past, but he is, undoubtedly, an elf lord. I can sense the royal blood running through his veins, but don’t take my word for it. He will discover his history soon enough. As for healing him, I’m sorry, Shalendra. He has moved beyond my abilities. The only god I know who might still have a chance is Idunn, but the portal into this world is sealed and cannot be breached.”

“Butwebreached it—surely, she can?—”

“No,” Kubrel moved into her line of sight, his cousin mimicking his movements. “Our king has verified the only way you and Cyran were allowed to enter is because Loki’s curse overrode the seal. Cyran is also a favorite of our king and his cousin, Brath. He would have been allowed in Jötunheimr as one of us. I know of no one else who has that honor. Not even the goddess who gave us immortality. I am sorry, Shalendra. Cyran was our friend too and will be missed.”

Loki leaned forward and placed his hand over hers, which squeezed Cyran’s forearm. “You are of my blood, which holds a lot of power. You are also the daughter of Émilien, the guardian of the Shadow Lands, which gives you an advantage. Ifeelthe power emanating from you, Shalendra.”

He leaned closer, his black eyes glistening as he held her gaze. “There is no greater power than love, granddaughter. Not even magic can change that. If you love him, use that power and bring him back,” he whispered.

A battle raged inside of her. She could not bear the thought of life without Cyran. Somehow, the elf had worked his way into her heart, but to let outthepower she had locked away so long ago… The one she had not even let loose for Castien. For him, she had only healed his body. Cyran needed her to call back his soul. Did she dare?

She dropped her gaze to his face. Love had taken away all choice, but doubt crept in. “I don’t know what to do.”

“My blood is unique, as is yours,” Loki said. “When the source of your magic starts flowing, you need not do anything. The magic is a part of you and knows what you want.”

“I’m scared. I always have been. I have always thought of what’s inside of me as bad, and if I let it out, it will consume me.” She studied her grandfather’s face, noticing the scent of limes for the first time. Strangely, Loki smelled like a freshly baked key lime pie. “Will it?”

He frowned. “Why are you giving me that quizzical expression and will it what?”

She tried to smile. “You smell like my favorite pie—key lime. And will my magic consume me, leaving nothing of me once I release it?”

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