Page 44 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

She stayed on her knees and looked up. “I hate you!” She gave him a pointed look while ignoring his outstretched hand and clambered to her feet on her own.

“Oh, I’m aware,” he said.

Janelle snarled at him and turned to the body. She covered her mouth in shock, stifling the hard sob that escaped. The hair on the body was white as the snow beneath their feet.

“Valkanon . . . oh no.”

She ran her hand down her face, wiped the tears that fell, and drew in a shuddering breath. It wasn’t Aiden, but that didn’t ease the pain she felt tighten in her chest. Valkanon was someone she’d known since she was a child.

“Valkanon was a heroic warrior,” he said. “He served the elves and fairies with honor.” He straightened his coat and looked around. “He should be buried with honor.”

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THEY BOTH IGNOREDthe freezing temperature and punishing weather while digging a grave for the next hour. First, they scraped back the snow and ice using some sturdy tree bark as makeshift shovels. Then they dug into the hard, frozen dirt beneath it until a suitable hole had been made. Together, they lifted Valkanon’s body and placed him carefully into the hole, piling the rest of the dirt and shrubs over him. His horse would be left for the animals to feed upon.

“I’m surprised the wolves haven’t tracked down their scent,” Janelle said, doing her best to push away the sadness. They hadn’t seen one wolf or mountain lion since they left Zemira. It was winter, but still, there ought to be some heartier wildlife moving around. They hadn’t seen any tracks or even heard the hoot of a winter owl.

“We need to look around for Aiden. He wouldn’t have left Valkanon like this,” she said. She shouted as the gust of wind picked up, making it harder to hear each other. “Aiden might still be out there!”

Elijah shook his head. “It’s too dangerous, Janelle. He may already be up the mountain and has taken shelter. Survival. That is what the Elven teach their young before they even hand them a sword. He may not have had a choice. We need to get that tent up from your bag or we will freeze to death out here,” he said, and she knew Elijah was right. Her Elven constitution would give her some small protection from the cold but, powerful sorcerer or not, Elijah was still human.

Moving quickly, Janelle and Elijah pulled out the tent and set up camp. They moved easily together, both working quickly without needing instruction, and it felt bizarrely natural to be sharing a space. As they tucked their blankets safely inside the tent, they began to change their clothes for warmer items. It was below freezing, and Janelle could feel her teeth start to chatter. Still, there was this strange heat between them. It was indistinct, something Janelle couldn’t put her finger on. A fluid warmth tugged at the two of them, drawing them together.

Janelle did everything she could to ignore it. The rush of blood in her ears, the swoop of her stomach as she glimpsed Elijah pulling off his shirt to change it; the prickle on the back of her neck as she wondered if he were also watching her. She ignored all of it. By the time they were both freshly dressed and wrapped in blankets, tucked away in the relative warmth of the tent, she felt sick with it. Her fingers twitched to reach out and touch Elijah, only a few inches away from her. She saw Elijah wringing his hands and wondered if he were suffering the same way. Instead, they settled into a tense silence.

Harsh winds rattled the trees around their tent, and icy raindrops hit the canvas top, keeping them alert. Janelle imagined it would be impossible to sleep, no matter how hard they tried. The silence seemed to drag on with an unspoken tension mounting between them.

It was Elijah who spoke first.

“Remember my friend, Nola, back at the castle? The siren?”

She nodded once.

“Two years ago, she and I had to take shelter in a cave shortly before facing off with my father.”

Janelle cocked her head and gave him a quizzical look, unsure what his point was.

“She and I had to stay in a cave during a storm and—” The side of his mouth quirked upward.

“Why do you have a stupid grin on your face?” she asked, irritated by how sexy he looked when his lip turned up like that, creasing his dimples.

His grin evaporated instantly, raising an eyebrow as if lost in thought. “Well, it was cold that night. We had to come together . . . you know, her body against mine, to keep warm.”

He has got to be joking, she thought.

“Well, it is a good thing I’m an elf. It’s not below zero and these blankets are rather warm.”

Janelle smiled back until his features changed, his eyes narrowing, and his lips pressed dramatically tight together. She had annoyed him.

Good, she thought.

With her self-control suddenly renewed, Janelle laid down at the far end of the tent, away from Elijah. She wasn’t the biggest fan of sleeping on hard, frozen earth, but it was still better than letting herself fall into the arms of an immoral, arrogant king.

Okay, maybe not, she thought. She found it almost painful to admit it.

Janelle kept her gaze focused on the top netting of the tent, noticing Elijah watching her out of the corner of her eye.

She reluctantly turned her head to face him, sweeping her thick, long locks into a braid over her shoulder before laying her head back down on a rolled-up blanket.

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