Page 68 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

Aiden leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. His dark hair fell over his eyes, mangled and tousled. He buried his face in his palms, running his hands down his face, then combed his long hair through his fingers and out of his eyes.

A tinge of regret for his words burned inside him.

The stench from the room continued to assault his nostrils; he had to get out of there.

He clambered to his feet once more, catching himself on the wall before walking to the door. Then Aiden pounded hard against the wood three times.

“Hello!” he shouted. “I need to speak to someone!”

Footsteps sounded in the hall before they stopped on the other end of the door. Someone’s shadow moved under the door crack.

“What is it, elf?” a man with a gravelly voice asked.

“Please inform Kieran that I need to speak with him,” he said. “Now.”

“Fuck off!” the man growled, his feet shuffling back. Quickly, Aiden placed his hands to the door and drew a deep, steady breath. The movement of the man’s feet stilled. Aiden focused his Elven magic, pressing it forward through the fibers of the wood, reaching for the man’s energy.

A moment later, he heard, “Alright. Give me ten minutes.”

Aiden let out a sigh of relief. His light ability had worked.

He rarely used that power, but it was the one magical trait he and Janelle had shared. Seeing his sister reminded him that he was more than just a warrior with a sword.

Aiden and Janelle had the power of light to fight against darkness. It was a delicate form a mind control that dealt with parts of their emotions. It forced their auras to leave their bodies for just a moment to touch another’s soul, making them more compliant and at peace.

He waited minutes before he heard the stomping of boots descending the stairs. The man had returned, opening the door slowly, holding a sword in one hand.

There was no sense of power coming from the human man, just a slightly vacant look on his face. He had a razor-sharp beard, angular brown eyes, and a narrow jaw.

“This way,” he said.

The man didn’t bind Aiden’s wrists or take hold of his arm as he escorted him to the living room.

It was opulent, far more than Aiden had expected. The rows of jewels and trinkets that lined the walls stood in stark contrast to the dust-filled coffin room where he had been held. The look of the people within the mansion was clean-cut, almost military in appearance. The room was dark gray, so it felt like he had never truly escaped the darkened room, but that dungeon had a chandelier. Crystal balls dangled from metal rings, casting light through the space in every direction. The entire place seemed to shine, despite its darkness.

It felt like a grim reminder of the palace that Aiden had left behind. It was as if the Newick coven lived like royalty but without the crown.

His eyes stayed on Kieran, who sat in a tall-backed chair and watched as Aiden slowly approached. Several men and women were also in the room, but many ignored what was happening. A few had looked over their shoulders to see the tall, black-haired elf standing before their coven leader, but it seemed like any other day.

Kieran cleared his throat before standing tall in front of his chair.

“Aiden Patrov. Son of Hagmar and Mariella. We finally meet after years of hearing the tales of your brave and valiant history. A warrior with a colorful career, fighting for the Fae, the elves, and the humans. Your rebuilding efforts with the Elven people of Zemira and your loyalty to your kind have not gone unnoticed. Janelle had nothing but heroic things to say about—”

“Do not,” Aiden started, his words cutting sharply through his teeth, “speak of my sister.”

Kieran held a smile of amusement and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Now, Aiden. We’ve always treated her like our own since she came here as a terrified teenage girl.”

Aiden’s expression hardened more than it had before. He didn’t believe that for a second.

“Like your own people?” Aiden seethed. “How many do you plan to take by force? Let us not pretend like you’re her ally or even someone who intends to take care of her. You sent Janelle to her death. If she had succeeded in your plan, you’d still be throwing her back into a world where she’d wish Elijah would’ve killed her.”

Kieran faked a smile. “Janelle doesn’t know what she wants.”

“Oh, believe me, she does. If she opens her legs for you, it will be because you force her. She’s never wanted children, even in her younger years. And she, most certainly, wouldn’t want them with someone she doesn’t love. You’ve brainwashed her since she was fifteen years old, twisting her into something you could control.”

Kieran held up his hand. “Janelle is far from submission. She just needed someone to guide her in the right direction.” The sorcerer ran his hand slowly over his chin and pursed his lips. “She made a deal with me, Aiden. I don’t see King Elijah’s head at my feet, which means she failed. My men are bringing her in now.”

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