and my face must show it because his expression changes to a sneer. “Vaeril might not always be around to protect you,” he says snidely. “You’re just a liability at the moment. You could get him killed.”
Ah, there’s the cruel Eldrin I’ve come to know. Shaking my head, I turn forward as we climb down another tight spiral staircase. I know he doesn’t like me, and I don’t expect him to. I’m everything he’s been taught to hate, but every now and again, I see a different side to him. Someone who cares too deeply and has been hurt for it. I know some of this anger and rudeness is part of his mask to protect himself, but I’m starting to lose my patience with him.
“I survived slavery for twelve years, I’m stronger than you think,” I retort, my tone harsher than I meant it to be. I sound like I’m trying to justify myself.
“You survived what others didn’t because of your fae heritage,” he counters. “You need to use it, use every advantage you have.” His voice gets louder, and thanks to the tight stairwell we’re in, his words bounce around me and seem to be coming from all angles.
He’s right, not that I’m going to admit that, but I realise now that’s the one thing I had that the other slaves didn’t. Since we arrived here, I’ve just felt like ‘the human,’ unwanted and in the way. I need to learn to embrace this other side of me if I’m going to survive.
“He’s right,” Naril chimes in ahead of me. “The queen has taken a disliking to you. You need to be able to fight.” The fact that it’s Naril telling me this makes me think that the queen is more of a threat than I originally thought. Vaeril cares for me, and Eldrin, well, I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I would expect a comment like this from both of them. Naril has no feelings for me, other than perhaps as entertainment and a fragile friendship, so if he’s warning me, then I’m going to take that seriously.
“You think she’s going to attack me?” My voice sounds calm and even, completely at odds with my pounding heart and turbulent thoughts.
“Not directly. You’re a curiosity at the moment—especially after that spectacle.” I can practically hear the eye roll in his voice. “The elves will want to know more about you, so she won’t kill you outright.”
“That’s a comforting thought,” I mutter dryly, while visions of fae assassins creeping into my room late at night and slicing my throat flood into my mind.
“Having the tribesman here will help with that too. He will be a distraction,” Naril comments, sounding excited at the prospect of more drama for him to watch. “Besides, he’s made it clear that if anything were to happen to you, there would be war between our people.” His voice changes as he says this, holding a note that tells me he has no idea why Tor might have any interests in me. “The last thing we need is another war.” I don’t think I’m supposed to hear this last bit since he mumbles it quietly to himself, but thanks to the acoustics of the stairwell, I hear him.
My heart thuds painfully in my chest. “Tor said that?” My words are whispered, but Naril nods his head and Eldrin makes a disgusted noise behind me.
“Yes, he was very insistent. He had it in writing, an order from his high chief,” Naril continues, and I can’t help but frown.
“Why would the mountain tribes care if I’m alive or not?” I ask, confused. I can understand why Tor is trying to keep me alive, but the high chief of a tribe that I’ve never met? It makes no sense.
“No idea, and I don’t really care. I just enjoy having that bit of eye candy around,” the elf in front of me comments lightly, and I can’t help but laugh. Naril is so different from his surly brother, who I can feel staring daggers into the back of my head.
So, with my mind full of confusion and contradictions, I continue to climb down into the depths of the palace, hoping that Eldrin doesn’t get fed up with me and push me off the cliff.
I stare at myself in the mirror, not recognising the figure that looks back at me. This is becoming a common occurrence for me, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to become vain—or