Page 57 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

“Well, that’s a Debbie Downer, isn’t it?” Loki smirked. “Have to admire his lofty aspirations, no matter how misguided. So, what are you going to do about it? I would recommend making up your mind sooner rather than later because I have no idea if the disease that idiot just injected into Shalendra will progress or stay in stasis as she is. It’s a crap shoot.”

Cyran's brow rose. “Has anyone ever told you your blasé attitude is annoying? No one knows where you stand about anything.”

“Tell me about it,” Zel said behind them.

Loki gave him a crooked smile, ignoring the demon blending in with the room’s shadows. “That’s my plan. If they don’t know me or what I think, no one can use it against me, can they? I have had more fights than most and have learned that keeping people at arm’s length is the only way to get through it.”

Cyran tightened his lips and shook his head. “What a sad, lonely life you must lead. I had a horrible childhood with Haman, yet I opened up to people and was rewarded with their love and care. I am the person you see today because of King Glanduil, his sons, and my mother. Life may have been difficult, but I learned how to love and be loved in return.”

“Yet, you also pushed people away. Why?”

Looking back at Shalendra, Cyran shrugged. “Secrets will do that, I guess. For five hundred years, I kept what I had done to Haman to myself, never letting anyone discover how I spelled him to sleep and trapped him in his underground laboratory. His disappearance was a mystery, and I wanted it to stay that way. I also feared someone would discover my actions, and I would lose everything and everyone I held dear to me. I didn’t realize they could forgive such a terrible act.”

“I guess it depends on who you are,” Loki said. “If I had spelled the Elven healer, I would have been thrown into the deepest, darkest pit in Nifleimer for eternity. You? You were best friends with royalty, and people like you usually make good decisions. I think you should be grateful to those who care for you. It’s a great gift.”

Cyran smiled. “You aren’t as terrible as everyone says.”

Loki grimaced. “Keep it to yourself. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Loki…” He glared at the god, then turned back to his task. He had no clue how he was going to save the woman holding his heart and kill the man who broke it. He was surprised but grateful when Loki’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“You are my granddaughter’s mate, and for that I am happy. I will support you in this fight, Cyran. I won’t let you fail.”

He faced forward, staring at the man who had held such control over his life, and gave the god behind him a single nod. Time unfroze.

Shalendra had never felt so ill. The closest she could compare to was when she lived with her parents in Niflheimr. She had almost died then and wished she could now. Not truthfully, but she felt horrible.

Haman loosened his grip on her arms and began muttering to himself. She had no idea what he was saying. To her ears, the language sounded low and guttural—and evil. Maybe even demonic.

She placed one hand over her abdomen, splaying her fingers to ease the roiling of her stomach. Her body burned as if a blowtorch were cooking her from the inside out.

Concentrating on Cyran’s face grounded her in the moment, allowing her to shallowly inhale and exhale as she rode the waves of nausea.

Her lungs quivered with each movement, and her heart raced as sweat beaded on her forehead. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Fighting to stay awake, she covered her mouth with her other hand and coughed as if coughing up her toenails.

“Cyran.” She swallowed several times.Whatever you are planning to do, please hurry. Haman is muttering words in some evil tongue I don't recognize. I can't take much more of this. I feel horrible.

She didn’t like the worried expression on his face—fear in the depths of his eyes, which were now more blue-gray.

Describe your symptoms. I have an idea which viruses Haman spliced, but if he added something more, your symptoms would help me figure out what he did. You were with Castien the longest. Are they anything like his?

She gave him a subtle nod.Very much so, and maybe a few extra. Unless this is like ordinary influenza, which changes a little depending on the person’s DNA and health?

It could be. That’s a good thought. Now, I need to finish this once and for all with my stepfather. I can’t let him do this to anyone ever again.

He turned his whole attention to the man behind her. Haman stood stooped, muttering to himself like a doddering old man, but something about the sound of the words stopped him cold. Haman was trying to summon a demon. Was he trying to summon Zel?

Moving his hand behind his back, Cyran motioned for Zel, who was still hiding in the shadows behind them. Hearing his light step behind him, Zel’s scent reminded him of a spice store on Midgard.

“What do you need me to do?” the demon whispered in his ear.

“Listen to what Haman is saying. I believe he is trying to summon a demon,” he said, his voice so soft, Zel had to lean closer to hear him. “Is it you?”

Zel’s attention turned to Haman as he stepped forward, even with Cyran. From the edge of his vision, the demon’s features darkened, his tanned skin turning ruddy and his eyes glowing red. “He is trying to summon me, but since I am already summoned, it isn’t working. It will be only a matter of seconds until he tries another name.”

Zel faced Cyran. “Whatever you are going to do, do it now. If another of my kind shows up, we will all die.”

Ever since he learned how Haman reversed the stasis spell, it was never far from Cyran’s thoughts as he tried to figure out a new version. Tweaking the original spell and adding more of his own touch to the incantation seemed the best move, but could he risk doing it now? What if it alerted his stepfather to what he was trying to do?

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