the courtiers, a pair of soft-looking dark leggings, and a pair of black leather boots. His mane of golden hair has been brushed and looks semi-tamed. He’s wearing two brown belts that seem to crisscross over his hips, his daggers sheathed there. He looks lethal, his pointed ears poking through his hair and his slanted golden eyes practically glowing. His scar only adds to the image, and I get the sudden urge to lean forward and run my finger down it.
Bad idea, Clarissa, he would probably slice your hand off before you could even touch him, my thoughts warn. His expression changes, and I know he’s losing patience and is about to bark at me for wasting time again. Shaking my head of those rogue thoughts, I link my arm with his and let him lead me from the room.
As we walk, my thoughts wander again, going back to the strange moment I just had in his rooms. I have a bond with his best friend, not to mention this connection with Tor and Grayson, so I shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about Eldrin too. I’m probably just exhausted and worried about the queen, and it’s making me think I like Eldrin because he offered me assistance. That must be what it is. Right?
Making our way through the palace, I begin to notice how many elves are watching us. I’m almost used to the second looks when they realise I’m the half-elf they’ve heard about, but on Eldrin’s arm, everyone seems to stop and look, their expressions one of shock. Those looks soon disappear when he glances their way, and neutral expressions soon replace their surprise as they bow their heads in respect. There’s an atmosphere of fear as we walk past them, and I can’t decide if that’s because of who I am, or who he is.
While he’s wearing what the other lords in the palace are wearing, he still sticks out like a sore thumb, and no one could confuse him for what he is—a warrior. The almost permanent snarl probably doesn’t help with the image.
“You’re shaking.” His voice is quiet, even someone with fae hearing would have to get close to be able to hear him.
I hadn’t realised it until he pointed it out, but he’s right. A fine tremble shakes my limbs, and I have to take a deep breath to try and calm myself. “I’m nervous about what the queen wants with me,” I reply once I’ve managed to get rid of the tremors. Glancing to the side, I look up at him. “Any ideas?”
“Nothing good.” As he shakes his head, my stomach drops. At least he’s honest and didn’t try to sugar-coat things for me. My fear must be obvious on my face, because he pulls me to a stop and turns to face me, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulders. “Hey, I’ll be there. I won’t let her hurt you.” My eyes flick around to check that no one is close enough to overhear.
Where is Eldrin and what have you done with him? my fear addled brain retorts. Why is he being so nice to me? We’ve been building a strange sort of relationship based on shared pain and experiences, and I suppose that’s developed into a fragile friendship, but what he’s saying is dangerous. If anyone was to hear him, he could get into a lot of trouble.
“Could you really do anything to stop her?” I know asking him this is cruel, making him choose, but he needs to realise what could happen here. “If she tried to hurt me, or ordered me killed, would you really go against your queen to save me?”
I can see how much the approval of his queen means to him, and his silence answers my question. Disappointment floods my veins, but I push it deep down, knowing it’s not fair to expect that from him. He’s spent so much time working for the queen’s regard, even though it’s clear she hates him, I’m not about to make that more difficult for him. However, there is a part of me, a small broken part of me, that wakes up whenever Eldrin is around, and she believes him. She believes that if it came down to it and the queen attacked her, Eldrin would protect her. The rest of me is undecided.
Sighing, I pull away from his grip. “Let’s get this over with.” I straighten my shoulders as I turn away, then walk across