Page 15 of Illicit Bargain

“Save your breath,” Javan cuts him off, his voice dripping with disdain. He raises his hand, and Kynor’s body contorts in agony, his screams filling the room.

Kynor’s screams fade as he collapses to the floor, unconscious but alive. For now. I turn to Javan, my heart racing with anticipation.

The door creaks open, and a dark elf soldier steps in, balancing a tray of food. His eyes widen at the sight of Javan, fully transformed, towering over the unconscious captain. The tray clatters to the floor, spilling its contents.

"Intruders!" he yells, reaching for his sword.

I move faster than I thought possible, the dagger already in my hand. I lunge at him, the blade sinking into his abdomen with a satisfying crunch. Then, I stab it again into his neck. His eyes bulge, and he gurgles, blood spilling down his armor. I pull the dagger free, and he collapses in a heap, lifeless.

Javan’s eyes flicker with approval. “Not bad, little one.”

I wipe the blade on the soldier’s tunic, feeling a surge of power unlike anything I’ve ever known. My body hums with energy, every sense heightened. The room feels alive, the shadows dancing at the edge of my vision.

“Temporary strength, right?” I ask, my voice steady, but laced with a newfound confidence.

“For now,” Javan confirms, stepping over Kynor’s unconscious body. “But you’ll get more. Much more.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “I like the sound of that.”

12

CATANDRIA

The road is rough, the stolen carriage creaking with every bump. Javan, now in the guise of a dark elf merchant, handles the reins with practiced ease. I sit beside him, my wrists bound loosely, playing the part of a human slave. Inside the carriage, Kynor remains unconscious, bound and gagged.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask, glancing at the approaching checkpoint. Dark elf soldiers in dark armor mill about, their eyes sharp and suspicious.

“Relax,” Javan says, his voice smooth and confident. “We’ve got this.”

I shift in my seat, the rough rope chafing my wrists. “What if they search the carriage?”

“They won’t.” His tone leaves no room for doubt.

The carriage slows as we approach the checkpoint. A soldier steps forward, his eyes raking over us. “What’s your business?” he demands.

“Trade,” Javan replies, holding up a bag of coins. “And a little something extra for your troubles.”

The soldier’s eyes narrow. “What’s in the back?”

“Just goods,” Javan says, tossing the bag to the soldier. The clink of coins is loud in the tense silence.

The soldier catches the bag, weighing it in his hand. “Illegal goods?”

Javan smirks. “Is there any other kind?”

The soldier’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile. “Open it.”

My heart races as another soldier approaches the back of the carriage. I hold my breath, praying he won’t look too closely.

Javan’s hand brushes mine, a silent reassurance. “We can’t kill every time,” he murmurs, his eyes on the soldiers. “We need to move fast. The ritual must be completed under the full moon in two days.”

I nod, my throat tight with worry. “But what if they?—”

“I told you they won’t,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “Trust me.”

Javan begins chatting with the soldiers like they’re old drinking buddies. His laughter mingles with theirs, and it grates on my nerves. I bite my tongue, my fingers digging into the rough wood of the carriage seat.

The soldiers barely glance at the back of the carriage, thankfully, as their attention is glued to the gold coins. “Generous of you, merchant,” one says, pocketing the bag.

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