Page 4 of Revenge of the Elf Lord
“No. I witnessed it every time it happened. Just before the war, she let me continue in her stead so I could learn and grow.”
“You’re an imbecile, Cyran. Blood is where the magic is. There is no way to get around that. No magical spell or potion will change what is. Renouncing you as my son…along with borrowed magic from a primary source, is the one way I can alter your destiny, which I have just accomplished.”
“Think again,father. You cannot renounce what was never yours in the first place. I am not your son—never have been. Mother told me with her last breath that my real father couldn’t claim me and never knew he had a son.”
Cyran clapped his hands together, his power expanding. His palms burned, and he turned them toward the older man, letting the beam of fiery magic hit him in the chest. With an ear-piercing shriek, his stepfather’s body seemed to pull apart. A second later, it imploded, leaving behind the stench of decay.
Rooted to the floor, he exhaled. The only sound in the silent room was his own breath. Reaching up, he wiped away the single tear trickling down his cheek, surprised he could still find even that speck of compassion for the hate-filled man. In his way, Haman Daralei had cared for him when he was a small child, but when he began to grow into a strong-minded youth, that care turned into something else. Something Cyran didn't recognize. Something evil.
While he had prolonged the inevitable confrontation by sending Haman to the netherworld, his stepfather’s dark magic was more powerful than his, and he knew Haman would return. Their fight wasn’t over.
2
The Dwarf King’s prison, Svartálfheimr
Shalendra Elasalor leaned against the rock wall of her cell, knowing her companion and friend, Castien Bloodminer, was leaning in the same spot on his side. His bloodstone Ashia and she had just returned from the dwarf king’s throne room with a troubling revelation, and she had no idea what to do about it.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Shalendra whispered.
“I should say so—in so over our heads, we’re drowning and don’t know it yet.” Castien chuckled.
“Remind me not to come to you for pep talks because you suck at it.”
“What does that mean…suck?”
She smiled. “It’s a human slang term I picked up on one of my trips to America with Freyja. My father would be furious if he knew she had taken me so far from home. We live in a rural area of France, so going to America was like a dream come true. I had read so much about it and even saw snippets of history through Freyja’s God’s Glass.”
She finger-brushed her black strands, which were lifeless and dirty, before letting them fall onto her chest. “Nothing prepared me for the amazing places America has, though. Standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon was exhilarating. I would have loved to be a bird. To follow the meandering river along the canyon floor as the steep walls narrowed this way and that. And the colors… Such shades of green from the many plants mixed in with the tawny sand and the rich burnt orange hues of the high stone walls were beyond gorgeous.”
“That does sound nice. I’ve never left Svartálfheimr.”
“That’s just sad.” She lifted her arm and sniffed her sleeve. “I desperately need a shower. I stink.”
Castien’s low chuckle filled the stillness around her. “You are just as beautiful as the first day you arrived. There isn’t a speck of dirt near you, and you still smell like fresh-cut flowers.”
“Wait a minute. You think I’m beautiful?”
“I would be blind not to.”
She frowned. “But you’re gay—you aren’t supposed to look at women.”
“Just because I prefer men doesn’t mean I can’t notice a beautiful woman. And you, my sweet friend, are gorgeous.” A soft grunt sounded behind her, and he mumbled a few words in a strange language, then exhaled. “Ashia wanted me to tell you that she thinks you’re beautiful, too, and was quite upset about being left out of the conversation.”
Shalendra frowned. “How am I supposed to talk to her if I’m not holding her?”
“Hmmm, maybe you are getting sick or coming down with some kind of forgetfulness. I guess you don’t remember her telling you I didn’t have to share my ability to talk with her because she already connected with you… Sorry.” He mumbled something, his voice softer as he talked to Ashia. “Yes, I will correct what I said.”
He exhaled. “Ashia wants me to make sure you understand thatyouconnected with her and now have a permanent connection. Just open your mind. It doesn’t work over long distances, though. She must be close to you for it to work.”
She closed her eyes and tried to do as he said, but darkness was the only thing filling her mind. “I’m not seeing anything. My mind is as dark as this cell.”
“Use your imagination and picture a door. Turn the handle and open it.”
Scooting to one side, she stared at the small hole in the wall between their cells and caught the soft blue glow from the bloodstone seeping through. “Seriously? A door?”
Castien exhaled. “Yes, Shalendra. A door. Imagine the door opening and a serene meadow or your bedroom back home on the other side. Wherever you feel the most comfortable.”
She scooted around and leaned back against the cold stone, ignoring the rough rock facing as it dug into her slender backside. Closing her eyes again, she did as Castien instructed and pictured the front door to her home back in France. She loved everything about the small castle. After Émilien took her from Helheimr, it had been her haven.
