Page 59 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

Throughout Myloria and their surrounding villages, it was known what Kieran had been doing—capturing and imprisoning elves, as well as breeding them himself for almost a decade. The innkeeper would be aware of that. More importantly, he would know that no elf sent by Kieran would be standing around, playing allies with a Zemiran. Janelle was counting on that.

“We won’t kill you, and we don’t want to harm you, but we’re hoping you might consider helping us hide.”

“Sorry I knocked you out with magic,” Elijah added.

“Kieran will kill you both,” Bran said.

She nodded. “Do you want us dead?” she asked. “Or can we trust you to keep our secret and let us sleep here tonight? We’ll be gone by morning, and you’ll never see us again, I swear it.”

The man adjusted himself in the chair and looked them in the eyes one more time before nodding.

Elijah’s brows furrowed, and then he looked up at Janelle. “We’re just going to trust him? Since when have you been the bearer of optimism in every situation?” he asked.

She nodded. “Elijah, you had me tortured in your dungeon, and I still agreed to travel with you up that mountain because I believed there was a small part of you to be trusted.” A gasp left Bran’s lips. “Trusting each other is better than the alternative. Perhaps we do that for him too. Unless you want to fry the old man’s brain and your own, pulling a spell out of your ass that you don’t know how to control.”

She leaned forward and unbound Bran’s wrists and ankles, then placed her hand on his cheek. A bright light shone so vibrantly he had to shut his eyes to block it out. He didn’t move as the still, calming bliss rushed through his body.

After removing her hand, Bran rubbed his wrists and stood from the chair.

“It’s getting late . . . would you both like some tea?” he asked, his voice no longer trembling.

Janelle smiled softly and looked at Elijah.

“We’d love some.”

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JANELLE AND ELIJAHsat across from the old man, who ate his dinner roll quietly, then sipped his tea. The room was silent aside from the muffled sounds of the old man or the creaks of the inn.

Elijah leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “When are you going to tell me what you really did back there to get the old man on our side?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Not everything is a spell, Elijah. Hush and eat your dinner. You’re being rude.”

He gave her a quizzical look before turning back to Bran.

“So, you are okay if we stay here a night, then?” he asked, cocking his head, trepidation clear on his face.

Janelle waited for the answer too. She had used light manipulation many times in the past. The old man was vulnerable, she had sensed that as soon as she saw him, and it was a prerequisite for that kind of enchantment. It wasn’t a true spell. It didn’t alter his memories or change the fabric of his mind. It merely gave him a push in the right direction. His emotions, stemming from his deepest, most instinctual level of consciousness, were something she could manipulate to her advantage. All she needed to do was ease his fear and allow his rational mind the freedom to make its choice and do the right thing by helping them.

“My wife created this place.” He gestured to the corners of the room with his hand. “She hoped to help people like you, traveling through the city. To help them feel safe. I only have three beds here, though. One for me. The far-right room’s been gutted for renovations. The two of you can take the one at the end of the hall.” He placed his tea down and smiled at Elijah. “I don’t see a ring on either of your fingers.”

Janelle felt her spine snap straight. A jolt of adrenaline hit her at the words, despite it being a complete overreaction of her emotions. Blush colored her cheeks as she realized how foolish she looked. “Oh, Gods. I am far from his queen. Are you crazy?” Her voice was a little unsteady for her liking, so shesmoothed a hand down her hips and tried to pull herself together. One look at Elijah, though, and the humiliation was replaced with irritation. He was sitting there, watching her with a smug smile, giving her just enough rope to hang herself with. She glared at him as fiercely as she could, but it only made him more amused.

“A single bed will be just fine, Bran,” Elijah said, ignoring her protests. “Thank you. I will pay you generously for what you have done for us. In fact, I’ll help cover the cost of that renovation to thank you for putting yourself at risk for our sake.”

Bran smiled widely. Janelle could have sworn she saw tears in the old man’s eyes. It was easy for people who had money to forget how much of a difference a few coins could make to someone who was struggling. Not Elijah, though. For all his faults, he seemed to have a constant, focused awareness of how his actions were affecting the people around him.

“Oh, my. Thank you, sir,” Bran said. “That is incredibly generous of you.”

Elijah leaned back and tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s the least I could do after the way I treated you today. I’m deeply sorry for that.”

Janelle watched Elijah with a keen eye. As much as it was a comfort for her to always cast him as the villain, she couldn’t convince herself he was being insincere whenever he talked like that. She had seen many sides of him, and she believed she could tell by now when he was speaking with genuine kindness.

Bran waved his hand in the air but paused, only briefly, as if contemplating whether he meant what he would say. “All is forgiven,” he said. Janelle, taken aback, parted her lips.

She was shocked by the way the man forgave Elijah so easily. Janelle had been raised by the Fae, who were famous for their ability to hold a grudge, and it was clear to everyone who met her that it was a trait she held onto tightly. After the Fae, she was trained by the Newick witches, who were also not known for their soft temperament. They cared too much about training hybrids to start a war to concern themselves with trivial things like empathy or compassion.

After a lifetime spent learning how to hate and channel that hate into action, it was jarring to see someone choose forgiveness over revenge. The thought of holding that much love inside yourself, enough that you could bestow it on every stranger who crossed your path, was anathema to everything she knew.

“But it’s getting late,” Bran continued. “The two of you may be pretty and young, but I’m almost ninety, and my memory starts to fog over around dinner time.” He gave them both a cheeky smile. “I’ll lock up for the night, but I suggest drawing your shades. I don’t need Kieran’s men coming into our town and spotting the two of you in the bedroom. You don’t exactly blend in.”

The day had gotten away from Janelle, and she felt her fatigue set in. It was exhausting, being angry and frightened all the time. Constantly being on guard against Elijah, Kieran, and every other man she encountered drained her mentally and physically. Janelle felt like she could sleep for a week and still be exhausted.

Still, if any of Kieran’s men came through that door, she would slaughter them before they reached the hallway. She’d heed Bran’s warning and protect the man who had put them above his own life.

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