Page 7 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

“No fire, but we do have another inconvenience.”

King Elijah almost growled in frustration, tossed the blankets back until he was only partly covered, and stared at the ceiling. He was prepared to get up from the bed and the restless feeling that clung to it. He would grit his teeth, go out there, and deal with the situation at hand. Ruling his kingdom was the only thing in his life that mattered anymore.

Elijah hadn’t felt like himself for the past two weeks, and it was starting to scare him. He had spent a lifetime being the first to wake up and train with Liam before most people had emerged from their rooms for the day. But now, he couldn’t sleep and had become withdrawn from his normal routines. He thrashed in his bed, tossing, and turning throughout the night. Constantly haunted by the images of the thousands of ways he could fail and the innumerable threats that chased him. What little sleep he did get was far from restful, like he was slowly being sapped of his strength.

Exhaustion had sunk deep into his bones. It was even beginning to affect his interactions with every other person in his life. The palace staff, the people in his city, even his own friends and advisors—he had lost his patience with all of them. It was as if something had snapped inside of him three days ago. He had fought the elf, pulled off her hood, and looked into those sapphire eyes. Now, something about him was profoundly, fundamentally changed. He didn’t know what it meant, and that frustration threatened to overwhelm him.

“What is it, Liam?” he said before throwing his long legs over the mattress and pulling his robe off from the back of his headboard.

He swung open the door and stared back at Liam, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his muscles flexed against his coat. He also looked exhausted.

A smile tugged at Elijah’s lips. “You look like you’re having a bad morning, Liam.”

“It’s the damn elf girl,” he said, sounding more exhausted than agitated. “We tried to feed her, but—”

Elijah rolled his eyes and held up his hand.

“Give me five minutes, please,” he told Liam and shut the door in his face, turning on his heel to freshen up in his washroom.

Elijah quickly bathed and put on clean clothes: black trousers, a dark gray tunic with gold threading down the center, and his thick leather boots. He wet his hair with warm water, combing it back to keep it from his eyes, then rubbed between his eyebrows a few times before splashing water over his face and dabbing it dry with a clean towel. Elijah almost felt revived from the cooling effects of the water. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles that remained. He walked out and picked up his sword from the table next to the window.

You must be willing to kill her, he repeated in his mind before placing his sword in his sheath and leaving his chamber.

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ELIJAH PUSHED OPENthe kitchen doors, and the aroma of freshly baked bread hit his senses, causing a rumble in his belly.

The heat of the oven brought a calming warmth to the spacious kitchen. Elijah removed his cloak and placed it behind the dining chair. The castle’s cook, Ella, had her back to him, tending to the stove.

“Good morning, Ella,” he said, watching her slightly jump as if she hadn’t known he was right behind her.

Ella turned her head and placed her foot behind the other, bending her knees to answer back with a tiny curtsy. She waved her hand toward a tray in the middle of the rolling island.

“I’ve made you eggs with two biscuits, Your Highness,” she said. “They’re fresh out of the oven, so give it a few minutes before chowing down.”

Elijah walked over to the steaming plate of food and picked a biscuit from the basket, feeling the heat sting his fingers. He scrunched his face playfully, causing Ella to giggle at his reaction.

Ella was an elderly woman with silver hair, round hips, and kind eyes. She had worked for the royal family in the kitchen since Elijah was five years old. He always regarded her as a motherly figure amongst the palace staff.

She tossed him a napkin before saying, “Like I said, Your Highness. You’re going to burn that tongue of yours.”

He gave her a flirtatious smile and winked. She blushed and turned away to go about her kitchen duties. Elijah took a bite of the cooling biscuit, relishing in the savory taste of the dough. Noting the time, he took the half-eaten biscuit and wrapped it in the napkin.

The eggs will have to wait, he thought. I have a stubborn elf to spar with.

“Thank you for the food, Ella. I must address some business but keep those eggs warm for me.” With that, Elijah turned on his heel and walked out of the warm kitchen.

The long corridor leading to the dungeon had once carried the scent of elf blood. Since then, it had been cleaned and sanitized, leaving a pleasant aroma of soap and freshly painted brick.

Elijah wasn’t opposed to killing criminals—those deemed a threat—but he wasn’t a monster like his father. That despicable king had taken innocent lives for his own entertainment and twisted ambitions.

He stepped in front of the cell where the woman was held and peered inside.

The small bed in the corner was empty, neat, and made with military precision. The elf sat on the floor beside the bed, her body curling in on itself and her weight pressed back against the mattress. It was a position that would make most people look small and frightened. Elijah didn’t think that the assassin was capable of that level of fear.

Her head wasn’t buried between her knees, arms wrapped around them as if to comfort herself. Instead, she held her face to his, chin tilted proudly, with no fear, to look into his eyes. It was impossible to discern that she was a woman currently wavering on the dangerous line between life and death. The elf regarded Elijah with a stern, set expression and waited for him to speak.

The longer she glared at him, unflinching, the more anger he felt curling through his body. His jaw was tight, and the veins in his neck bulged; he could feel it. A hot wave of something like shame flashed through him. It had been a long time since someone thought they had the right to look at him with that kind of defiance, and he didn’t care for it. It was clear the elf needed a lesson in how much respect was due to a king.

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