fades, and my face is wet from the tears that must have fallen without me knowing. Beneath me Eliph vibrates with unleashed fury, the glow around his horn pulsing.
“There,” the elf says smugly. “Now she can take part in this conversation without me debasing myself to speak that vulgar language.”
“Thanks,” I growl out, my words kept low though because my head still feels like its skewered in a glacial vice.
“As for your request of passage, it is something that will have to be addressed to our king. I’m not free to give you leave nor to deny you and send you back out into the forest to play with the fairies. This would require that I leave my post to escort you to the castle,” he points out.
Really? And what does this motherfucker want then? All I know is that this guy needs to quit playing around and let us in before anything tries to get the jump on us out here.
I narrow my eyes on him, prepared to ask him just that when Grimsal interjects before I get the first word out.
“We would be most grateful for an immediate audience,” the goblin says smoothly with another bow. “And, of course, offer a small token of our gratitude.”
“Kiss-ass,” I whisper over at him, and he gives me a reproachful look.
I don’t care. This elf is treating us like we’re dirt—or more specifically, like I’m dirt, because I’m pretty sure that they wouldn’t be doing this to Eliph if he were alone. At least Grimsal knows where I’m coming from, since his kind is obviously not favored, judging by the prissy look the elf is giving him. Well, just because the goblin is willing to kiss his rump doesn’t mean I’m going to. He’s not getting anything from me.
“A small token,” the elf agrees.
His smile becomes sharper as he looks over at Eliph.
“Just the smallest favor. I want the tip from the unicorn’s horn.”
“What? No!” I snap.
“My lord, I’m sure that there is another gift…”
It’s okay, Eliph murmurs in my mind, his voice a soothing balm against the heat of my anger. He’s only asking for the very uppermost tip. It is a price that is not uncommon to ask from a unicorn and one that I’m willing to trade. It will only take a moon cycle for it to grow back.
“But that means someone is going to have to cut it from you,” I protest.
The very idea of someone chopping even the smallest part of his horn off horrifies me. Normal or not, that just seems like assault. Demanding payment by hacking body parts. Might as well be someone harvesting organs for the black market or something.
Your mind does travel to some interesting places when you are projecting loudly, my mate teases. Do not worry. It will not harm me or my magic, and perhaps he may keep it or sell it—it doesn’t matter. It is a small cost.
I totally don’t agree, but I hold my tongue as he allows the elf to approach with his drawn sword. My eyes track his every movement suspiciously. He lifts an eyebrow at me but merely curls his lip as he approaches Eliph’s head. The only indication that he’s put out by my stare is the way his lips are thinned with displeasure.
“Yeah, I’m watching you, buddy,” I mutter.
His icy blue eyes dart over to me and hold my gaze as he grips Eliph’s horn with one hand and lifts his blade. The bastard smiles, and my heart goes still as he brings his sword down hard.
The crack of breaking horn shoots through their air like a massive percussion, and I wince, my eyes squeezing shut against the force behind the sound as I cover my ears. Once I’m certain that it’s over, I uncover my ears and open my eyes in time to see a small ivory fragment no longer than half of my pinkie finger drop down with a soft clink into the elf’s hand.
The elf’s fingers curl around it and his cold smile widens momentarily before he tucks it away into a tiny pouch on his belt. He gives Eliph a formal—and yet somehow very ironic—bow as he gestures with one hand toward the pillars.
“Enter, guests,” he purrs.
Grimsal hastens past him with a wary look, leading the way, his own hand on the knife on his belt as if concerned it’s some sort of trick. Once he’s safely on the other side, he gives Eliph a nod and my mate