Bo’s grin widened. “How little you think of me! But yes, your low assessment is entirely accurate.”
Fucker. I didn’t know if this was true or a lie, but it had unnerved me anyway. I took another sip of my coffee, forgetting that I’d spit into it. “Skalei.”
In one graceful swing, I slammed the blade through the center of Bo’s mug. The ceramic shattered, and hot coffee sprayed all over his shirt.
“Look, you conniving shit. I work for the Lords of the Shadow Caverns. I am a trained assassin. Fuck with Barthol and it’s not coffee that’ll be soaking your chest. There will be no more talk of Galin. No more talk of Barthol. Are we clear?”
Bo simply gawked, his mouth half open.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, let me drink my disgusting coffee in peace.” I took a long sip, indicating that the conversation was over.
I was beginning to understand the humans’ infatuation with this bitter drink. It was starting to make me feel alive.
Bo left, ostensibly to change his shirt, and I was able to eat my breakfast in peace. A few minutes later, a group of guards entered the hall and announced the arrival of King Gorm. He, Revna, and Sune sat at their usual table on the dais. I didn’t see Galin at all.
When someone called my name, I looked up to see Thyra beckoning me. After grabbing a roll and refilling my coffee cup, I hurried to join her.
As I sat, she stared at the mug in my hand. “Are you drinking coffee?”
“Yup. It’s actually amazing. I could eat nails.”
Thyra shook her head. “Well, I guess it’s better than espresso shots.”
Before I could ask her what an espresso shot was, Gorm spoke. “Thank you all for coming to breakfast. I hope everyone slept well. The Night Elves will be holding the next contest. Lord Thyra will explain the details.”
Next to me, Thyra stood. “Thank you, King Gorm.” She turned to face the assembled elves. “I have already told your leaders the details of the contest, but fortunately, it is quite simple. A short footrace. We will run from Bunker Hill to the Old State House. I will reveal the exact route at the start of the race. As with the melee, hand to hand combat will be acceptable, but ranged weapons will not be allowed. Magic is strictly forbidden. The first two hundred twenty-five elves to finish will go on. The rest will be executed.” A heavy silence fell over the hall. “We will race tonight at sundown.”
“Tonight?” King Gorm interjected. “You told us in three days.”
Thyra shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
He spluttered before finally saying, “You can’t do this.”
Thyra smiled. “Oh, but I can.”
And as she sat down again, I found myself hoping with a shiver of dread that neither Galin nor I would be among those executed tonight. I may have come up with the plan, but it was going to be a close thing to survive the race.
Chapter 26
Galin
By the time I got down to the mead hall, it was nearly empty—just a few servants putting away dishes and pastries.
“Where is everyone?” I asked a servant as I snagged the last black currant scone.
“On the roof, Your Highness.”
“On the roof?”
“They’re exercising or something, my lord. Didn’t you hear? There’s going to be a contest tonight. A race.”
“Tonight,” I repeated, still not quite making sense of it. It seemed too soon.
With the scone still in my hand, I hurried up the Citadel’s many flights of stairs until I reached the roof.
I found it awash with elves. A group of High Elves fought with practice swords, while Night Elves sparred bare-handed. Elves of all three tribes could be seen jogging around the path that ringed the parapets, warming up their legs.
“Galin!” I heard Revna shout.
I spotted her and Sune stepping down from the running track. Revna was dressed like an athlete, in shorts, and a bejeweled dagger hilt protruded from a sheath at her waist.
She sidled up to me. “Have you learned anything about tonight’s contest?”
I shook my head. “I was sleeping.”
She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Well, why don’t you ask your little tunnel swine girlfriend?” She pointed to a group of Night Elves standing on one of the walkways. In the center, Ali was talking quietly with Thyra and Ilvis.
“How about I throw you into the Well of Wyrd?” The shock of heat to my skull was worth the fear in her eyes, even if it was