Unferth released his death grip on the banister, if only to take a step backward, away from the approaching elven.
Why were they searching for the governor’s daughter? No one had ever seen the girl; Unferth kept her locked away. It was rumored that she was my age and so sickly that Azrael, the God of Death, would soon collect her.
Unferth cast his wide eyes around, as if hoping a solution would drop from the heavens. For a moment, I thought he might actually confess her location. And then his eyes landed on me.
My heart pounded furiously. I realized what was happening the second after Umma breathed, “No.”
“She’s over there.” Unferth raised one thick arm, a finger pointed directly at me. “I’m so sorry, my elven master, I only sought to keep her safe in the servant’s quarters where she would be most unsuspecting. Forgive me.”
The commanding elven with the mercurial eyes looked to me again, and the hairs on the back of my arms rose. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry, my tongue numb. Umma shifted her grip on my arm, pulling me behind her. “She is not–”
“Silence.”
The word did not come from Silver Eyes, but from the scarred one to his left.
Umma opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Flashes of emotion, ranging from confusion to panic to horror, filled her face. She kept straining to speak to no avail. My knees went weak and fear unlike anything I had ever known gripped me. I tugged at her, steering her to face me properly.
“Umma. Umma, what’s happening?” I swiveled to Scar Face, a cruel smirk now creeping across his lips. Anger pulsed red hot through me, tinging my vision. “What did you do to her?”
The smirk faded as malevolence touched his eyes. “You dare speak to me? You impertinent mortal.”
Lightning flashed outside, near enough to bathe the room in lashes of brilliant white.
Umma clutched my forearm, but still I stepped forward, fury dousing my terror. “What. Did. You. Do?”
Thunder clapped overhead as if it felt my fury. The sheer impossibility of the situation was not lost on me. I was so small and fragile, so utterlyhumanagainst these three elven who could do anything they wanted to me and get away with it. My stomach was a knot of twisted vines.
Scar Face stepped forward, his fingers reaching for the dagger at his side.
“Stop,” their commander ordered, a bored look on his face. “You, daughter of the governor, come forward.”
There was no use in challenging it. No one around us looked remotely as if they would corroborate my plea of false identity if I voiced it. Only Umma still held on to my arm, her desire to protect me evident in the beseeching look on her face. But defending me would come at too great a cost for her.
I gently extricated my arm from her grip and stepped forward. Dread pulsed through my body, but I swiftly banished it. I would be strong like Umma had taught me to be. Shards of glass crunched beneath my feet as I picked my way past scattered furniture toward the center of the room. The closer I got, the more I felt it. The raw power. Emanating fromhim. The one with the silver eyes. I had sensed power from Blondie too, but it now seemed tame in comparison. Whatever this was mirrored ruthless chaos, like gathering storm clouds before a flood.
I could make out the details of his armor now, the lethal looking blades strapped to his sides, hair the color of midnight,like wings of a raven, against tanned skin. His features were angular. Unyielding. He was beautiful, in the way death might seem to some.
“Your name.” It was not a question, but a command from someone used to dispensing them.
“Lirahna.” I was proud when my voice did not waver.
His eyes scanned my face, my body, probably musing about how easy it would be to snap me in half.
His gaze returned to my face as he spoke, his words loud and clear for all to hear. “We have come to collect one mortal from Serila, as is customary on Augustine, to compete in the Mortal Trials. This year, we choose Lirahna of the House Golund.”
Even though I had anticipated his words, dreaded them, they still hit me with a terrible force. Despair rocked through me – despair and utter hopelessness.
A thumping echoed behind me, and I whirled around. Umma had begun to rush forward, tripping over glass and an upturned table in her haste to reach me.
I turned quickly to see Scar Face flexing his fingers, an amused expression on his face. Bitter bile rose at the back of my throat.
They knew my weakness now. Umma’s too. Foolish and contrary to the tough façade she had worked so hard these many years to maintain, desperation shone on her face as she raced forward.
It is vulnerable to feel – to love – Lirah. In a world like ours, we are not afforded that luxury.
“Stop!” I shouted, both to Scar Face and her. “No one needs to get hurt.” As if we ever stood a chance of woundingthem. No, I was doing this for Umma.
I was scared. So terrified my bones threatened to quiver, but they did not need to know that. Umma had shouldered so many burdens for me. Had taken me in when my own mother didn’t want me. She had loved me and cared for me. I would be strong for her now. I would protect her now.