Page 23 of Between Realms

I wash away the few traces of dried blood Oakes missed. Drying off with the fluffiest towel I have ever touched, I shake my head that I have never experienced such fine things before. Other than the exquisite blades I help create, Merlara has simple tastes. I have lived comfortably but never experienced opulence.

I slip on my clean dress, noting the silky material hasn’t wrinkled—the reason Merlara gifted me such a rare luxury for travel. Checking my face and hair in a giant full-length mirror, I notice the ghoul’s faint marks on my face, where I will be permanently scarred. I mutter, “Oh well, who knows how long I have left to live, anyway?” I’m not vain enough to care much about how I look. I just don’t want to be forced to explain my scars to random strangers. It isn’t likely I’ll to find a potential mate in either realm, so it hardly matters.

Wrapping my blade in a fine cloth, I tuck it deep into my bag. If anyone finds it, perhaps I can explain it away as an innocent gift for the royals.

I open the door. The guard takes my bag, soiled dress, and cloak, and then allows me to exit the bathing room. With an exaggerated huff, the guard leads me down an expansive corridor.

My palms sweat. My fate will soon be cast.

The guard stops before a beautifully carved door, but it seems too small to lead to the court.

The elf glares at me. “The prince has requested to see you in these chambers. He’s waiting now.”

“The prince? Chambers?” My eyes widen. “I don’t understand. I thought I was supposed to appear before the royal court.”

“His Royal Highness iswaiting.” The guard opens the door and nudges me inside with an elbow to the back.

9

BARTERING

WYNSTELLE

The meeting chamber is dimly lit by the setting sun. Three Elven males stand at the far end of the room, quietly arguing.

Merlara warned me to wait to be acknowledged and never to speak first with any elf, especially a noble. Listening to her advice, I keep my gaze down so I won’t offend the prince by staring. Perhaps he will be more kind than I expect his father is. Perhaps if I can show I am a well-behaved servant, he will allow me to return to Merlara.

The door snaps shut behind me. After a tiny jump, I exhale nervously. What is the royal protocol in a situation like this—meeting the princeprivately? Merlara only prepared me for a court appearance. Should I still wait to be addressed? Should I approach?

The males must have noticed me enter, but none of them bother to greet the insignificant mortal across the room or even glance in my direction.

I don’t want to anger them and seal my fate, so I keep my gaze on the floor and wait patiently as they argue with each other. It seems odd they should call for me and speak about another issue which makes me assume the topic is me.

One elf says in a loud hiss, “End this.”

Oh, goddess, please no. My fate has been already decided then. Will they kill me? Or just banish me to the mortal realm and allow that fate to kill me off?

I gulp—a bit too loudly.

The three seem to hear me since they all stop whispering, and I feel their full attention shift to me.

I curtsey, eyes still lowered, unable to register what they look like. My face flushes with heat when they continue to stare without acknowledging my presence otherwise.

“Mortal.”

I peek up through my lashes to see a devastatingly handsome blond male in fine garb. The Prince.

Then my breath hitches when I recognize the males next to him—Oakes and his gorgeous friend who fought the ghouls in Crowland.

The black-haired elf’s face is a placid mask, but I sense intense emotion swirling behind his violet-colored eyes. What those emotions are, I cannot guess. Perhaps he’s here to convince the prince to send me away after all the trouble I caused on the road.

I glance again at Oakes, wondering why he is here now. Has he been reporting the secret of my illegal weapon to the prince?

Oakes averts his eyes guiltily. So he saves my life just to condemn me now? It makes no sense.

After taking in their faces, I lower my gaze and clasp my hands in front of me without even daring to make eye contact with the prince.

“Come,” one elf orders.

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