I recognize the insult.Half-blood.Does the man have a death wish?
Thorne steps forward, and I swear the world around me is quiet enough that I can hear the leather of his boots creak. Then, like the trained assassin I know him to be, he disappears and reappears behind the man.
“Rebellion will not thrive under the king’s dominion,” Thorne declares before slitting the man’s throat.
The crowd that has gathered gasps, but Thorne merely steps over the body and then onto a stack of crates filled with wares.
“Subjects of King Arion, I suggest you all let us pass in peace, or your women and children will go hungry this night. Support the crown, or face its wrath.”
Silence abounds, and slowly, I begin to choke out hiccupinggasps. I take in mouthful after mouthful of air, trying to free myself from invisible ropes binding my body in tandem with the men who hold me still, but then they push me forward.
The once-bustling place remains silent as I am half carried, half dragged past them.
This was not what I expected coming to the elven lands. I didn’t know that there was even a lick of dissent outside of the Sisterhood, as the elves have always been presented to me as unwavering in their devotion to the crown. To the one who rightfully holds power.
Perhaps this is some anomaly. But then I think of the elves in Dragonsreach, and how they glamoured an entire city. Surely they were different from the general elven citizens, though? Maybe this really is just about my human blood. Perhaps it’s a symptom of a larger disease within the kingdom.
My mind races, mostly without coherent thoughts, as we clear the crowd. Breath returns to my lungs as shaky, shallow pumps of my chest. Cold sweat coats my palms, and I shy away from everyone we see.
Then a carriage comes into view. The shape is less boxy than the carts used in the giant lands. This vehicle has dipping curves in the middle and peaks in the corners. The wood is so pale, it’s almost pure white in some places. More silver detailing is brushed onto the carved structures, and it has large, polished wheels, somehow unmarked by rock or stained by grass. Two impossibly tall elk draw it, regal horns protruding from their brows.
Another soldier sitting at the front of the carriage steps down and comes to the side of the uniquely shaped coach body. With a deep bow, he unlatches the door, allowing it to gracefully arc open to reveal plush green seats and embroidered-leaf curtains.
Everything smells faintly of fresh rosemary, a peculiar smell after so long traveling across the sea.
Unsure, and still regaining feeling in my hands from shock, I wait for someone to direct me.
Thorne makes a frustrated noise and then gestures toward the entrance.
“You first. From this moment on, you will only go second to the king.”
His voice makes me flinch.
Helpful, I think. But I don’t respond, just grab at my skirts to yank up the hem and then find my way into the coach. No sooner do I enter than a clunk sounds as the trunk is hoisted onto the back, and there are several dips of the carriage as the remaining soldiers climb onto the outside.
Thorne, however, slides into the seat opposite mine. He leans back, letting out a long sigh as he loosens the collar of his tunic, throws one ankle over his knee, and drapes one hand on the back of the bench.
“Welcome to the elf lands, my dear,” he says with a pointed smile.
I glare in response. My breath is still shallow, and I don’t want him to know how his display made me.
“Oh, come now, if you can’t talk to me, who will you speak with?”
I frown. “I don’t need to speak with anyone.”
“Arlet,” he begins, using my name for the first time in a long while, “both our futures will be far more pleasant if you stop ignoring me.”
“Ignoring you? I think it’s warranted since you betrayed my people. You sliced my leg open!” I hiss.
He rolls his eyes. “You are fine.”
“You are a traitor.”
“And so what if I am? You are about to marry the Elf King, the enemy of the Enduares. Does that not make you a traitor as well? We could be both traitors and friends. Both at least a little bit human.”
He winks, and his words stun me into silence. Satisfied with my response, he smirks, leans his head back against the seat, and closes his eyes.
I study his face, wondering if I am strong enough to go through with what is to come as my hands tremble.