Page 54 of To Save a Kingdom

Undertaking the construction of a fresh castle from the ground up, with complex defensive structures, would take years, and cost a fortune. Money she didn’t have. “While I see the importance of rebuilding the Mage College, with our drained coffers, the realm can’t afford a completely new structure. It would be more efficient, both in time and budget, to adapt a pre-existing location to your needs.”

Jalius shook his head. “We have selected the place. There is a rise a league or so from town. Several ley lines pass through the area, which will enhance the potency of our magic and ease training for our novices. Unfortunately, there are no suitable structures nearby.”

Aliya tilted her head back and studied the sky.

Jalius stepped forward, dropping his voice until it was a whisper. “If you are wise in your choice of husband, you could easily refill the royal treasury.”

She rounded on him, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. That wouldn’t be mature or queenly. “So, you intend for me to sell my body and the realm to give you what you want.” It shouldn’t have surprised her when the heavy sense of betrayal pushed down on her shoulders. He was under no obligation to care about her or her happiness. The gnome had never been anything but pragmatic.

Jalius shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. I expect you to do your duty, both to your subjects and to your fellow mages.”

Aliya clenched her jaw until her teeth creaked. Did she really need the mages’ help when it came to the elves? Sure, more allies would smooth her path, would make setting the kingdom to right easier. But at what cost? Elessan could agree to marry Tsara, too, which would further strengthen their alliance, but again, would it be worth it? And how much influence would he have? No more than she would, married to the sun elf king.

Perhaps she should curse them all and let the realm burn to ashes.

She drew in a long breath before expelling it with all the force she could muster. Doing so would accomplish little but hurt the peasants, the most vulnerable among them. Narrowing her eyes and fixing Jalius with the full might of her glare, she bared her teeth the way she'd seen Elessan do when he was angry. “When this is all behind me, and the throne secure, I will remember those who allied themselves with me, and those who attempted to take advantage and maneuver me into a corner. Think twice about which side you wish to find yourself on.”

Chapter 21

Elessan

Elessan slid through one of the smaller gates at the back of the castle, as far away from the commotion in the front courtyard as possible. Of the two guards stationed here, only one was present. He supposed he couldn’t begrudge them their inquisitiveness when it made his job so much easier. No doubt the missing guard had gone to find out what the upset was and report back to his colleague. Once everything settled down, he’d have to have a chat with Aliya about ensuring proper discipline in her ranks. In the elven kingdom, abandoning one’s post, regardless of reason, was punishable by death. It was perhaps a tad extreme, but desertion for mere curiosity? That would never be acceptable, especially if it put her life at risk.

It was the work of a heartbeat to wrap his arm around the solitary guard’s neck and choke off his air supply until his body went limp. Leaving the unfortunate human in the shadow of the portcullis, Elessan slipped into the estate undetected.

The hallways were deserted. He had to give whoever was at the front credit—they knew how to create a scene that drew attention.

He couldn’t resist—he took a quick detour down the wing housing the elven visitors. Rolling his shoulders, he knocked on one of the doors. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the empty hall. Resting his ear against the wood, he listened for movement in the room.

Nothing.

Turning the latch, he took a deep breath. “Mother?”

A vacant room greeted him. Her belongings were no longer there. The bed was unmade and a towel lay on the floor in the bathing chamber. He’d gotten his habit for tidiness from her—Sorisana had no doubt intended to pick up the linen and straighten the blankets prior to starting her day. Something had interrupted her, resulting in a rush of packing before an abrupt departure. Her scent was still fresh, though—she hadn’t been gone long.

If she’d had time to pack, the issue likely wasn’t Brooks.

The neighboring room was also vacant. As was the next.

Elessan would bet one of his daggers the problem stemmed from the sun elf royals themselves. Something had happened, either with Roland or Tsara, and now his people were leaving. And throwing quite an explosive fit about it, judging from the commotion in the courtyard.

Loosening his blades for a quick draw, he spun on his heel. Time to find out exactly what was going on.

Outside was a circus. Elves lined one side and humans on the other. Roland Enorathil stood in the center next to a roaring bonfire wearing his ridiculous golden headdress marking him as king. In case there'd been any doubt. The acrid stench of burning fat, meat and starch assaulted Elessan’s sinuses. A mountain of more food than he’d ever seen in one place burned.

He blinked. Aliya’s kingdom was facing a famine, and all this was being wasted. His skin flushed as his pulse throbbed past his ears.

Snatching the collar of one of Aliya’s nobles who walked by, Elessan pulled him into the shadows. “What’s going on here?”

The man was one of the ones who sat on Aliya’s council… the annoying one Aliya had granted management of the water rights to. Match-something. Macherall. That was it.

The human squinted at him with beady eyes as recognition flooded his face. The noble grimaced.

Elessan shoved him against the wall. His head bounced off the stones hard enough to make his gaze unfocus as his eyelids fluttered. Air whooshed out of his lungs.

It took a supreme amount of self-control for Elessan to wrangle in his patience, but by Abaddon, he did it. He couldn’t kill the man yet. Leaning forward so he was nose-to-nose with the wretched aristocrat, he growled. “Don’t make me ask again.”

The lord looked like he’d rather spit blood at Elessan’s feet, but his stern façade crumbled under the weight of Elessan’s stare. “The elves are leaving,” Macherall ground out in a wheeze. “And good riddance.”