by Shea, K. M.
Angelique ignored the squabble and slowly raised her hands into the air.
Quinn watched in shock as every weapon in the goblin army, every dagger, spear, arrow, sword, and mace, slowly rose into the air as if pulled by invisible arms. Some slipped from the goblins’ backs or belts; others pulled free of their grasping hands. The goblins finally stopped running forward, and shrieked—jumping up and down as they tried to reach their weapons.
Arrowheads, blades, and spearheads glittered in the torchlight as they rose higher and higher until they were as high as a two-story home.
The forest grew quiet as the goblins stared up at their weapons, petrified in their fear.
Angelique let her hands drop to her side. She tilted her head back and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “So may it end,” she said.
The weapons plummeted back to the ground, falling fast and with pinpoint precision, slaughtering the goblins where they stood.
The goblins shrieked and screamed in pain, but within moments more than half of their number were wiped out. Those that survived the first onslaught turned on their heels and ran, kicking up snow as they fled.
Relentlessly, they were followed.
Dispassionately, Angelique again raised her arms, and again the weapons—bladed and pointed, big and small—rose under her command. She didn’t say anything this time; the weapons swooped down on the goblins as if wielded by invisible forces.
The night air was filled with the sour smell of goblin blood and their dying screams.
“Angelique,” Emerys whispered into Quinn’s ear as the enchantress whittled down the goblin forces, “is the first enchantress ever with war magic. She can control anything with a sharp edge. Wood, metal, glass—it doesn’t matter what it’s made of, as long as it can cut something.”
Quinn stared wide eyed at the carnage.
Not a goblin escaped as the enchantress relentlessly swept her magic through the forest.
“She could take out an army in minutes,” Quinn said.
“Yes,” Emerys said. “She can.”
In a few short moments, the goblin army was no more. Angelique had killed every single one of them. There was not a single survivor.
The enchantress swept her silver eyes across the battlefield, then nodded. She stepped backwards, then abruptly slapped her hand over her mouth. She fell to her knees and retched loudly. It wracked her whole body, coming in pained waves between coughs and tears as the enchantress cried and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Angelique.” Quinn pulled away from Emerys and trotted to the enchantress, impatiently shaking her head when black invaded her vision. She crouched at the enchantress’s side, Emerys scarcely a moment behind her.
Angelique wiped her mouth off on the sleeve of her dress. “I hate this,” she said as her face lined with pain. “I hate my magic.”
Quinn couldn’t think of anything to say, so she scooted closer and placed her hand on Angelique’s back. “Thank you for saving us,” she said—or tried to say, but her tongue felt thick. She blinked as she tried to clear her eyesight. It didn’t work.
Opening my wound again must have pushed my blood loss past my limits. Quinn wanted to snort as she felt her muscles grow lax.
“Quinn?” Emerys asked as Angelique gave another shuddering wretch.
Quinn tried to shake her head but found she couldn’t—she couldn’t even stay awake. As she toppled over and darkness started to settle in, one dim thought rang through her mind: Darn it. Emerys is never going to let me live this down.
Chapter 16
An Unusual Love
Quinn slowly opened her eyes and stared up at a bright, sun-soaked white ceiling. Where am I? Her shoulder ached dully, and when she tried to position her arms to boost herself into a sitting position, she found she couldn’t move her right hand.
Curious, she stretched her neck and peered up.
Emerys sat at her bedside, holding her right hand securely in his grasp as he studied—or more correctly, glared at with hatred—a stack of papers. He glanced over, and when he saw Quinn peering at him, a handsome smile spread across his lips.
Quinn suddenly found it hard to swallow as Emerys’ beautiful, swirled, blue eyes crinkled. “Hello,” she said.
Still smiling, Emerys set his papers aside and leaned into Quinn until his breath caressed her ear. “You idiot!” he shouted. “I should strangle you right now!”
So much for a sweet wake up call. “What has you in a snit?”
He sat upright so he could glare down at her. “I am not in a snit! You’re a snit.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You make no sense!” Emerys huffed.
Quinn rubbed her forehead with her free hand, blinking when she felt the scab of the slice she had earned during her fight with Roy. “Why are you so upset with me?”
“Probably—quite possibly—because you let your band mates beat the blood out of you, then opted to waltz around a battlefield where you opened your shoulder wound—again—and failed to ask for help so you passed out, gravely ill, due to blood loss!”
“Nothing actually happened on the battlefield,” Quinn pointed out.
“That doesn’t matter!” Emerys said tightly. Based on the way he scowled at the wall, she didn’t think he was aware of how he squeezed her hand.
Quinn slowly tried to ease herself upright. “I’m not sorry for what I did. I don’t regret it.”
Emerys snorted loudly.
“But I am sorry I frightened you,” she added.
Emerys finally lowered his gaze to her. He glared at her for a moment more before his furrowed brows relaxed, and his eyes slanted down. “It was terrifying, Quinn. You dropped—as pale as snow—and none of us had enough magic to help you. Angelique was able to place a slow-burn heal on you that kept you alive, but she was still ill from using her magic and couldn’t do much more at the time. Thankfully, she recovers fast and was able to look after you, but there were several minutes where I thought my heart stopped.”
Quinn squeezed his hand and smiled sadly at the Elf King. They were quiet for a bit before she ventured, “But we won!”
Emerys rolled his eyes as Quinn grinned playfully. She nudged him when he did nothing more.
“We did,” he finally admitted, another smile cracking his lips.
“The goblins are gone?” she asked.
“Wiped out. Angelique took on one other army to the south, and your sister and her horses took out three packs that had marched north towards Navia, but the rest of the goblins fled.”
“I can’t believe it. We survived! You’re free; the princesses are free…. It’s the best outcome I never would have dared to hope to achieve.” Quinn scooted back so she could lean against the bed’s headboard, and Emerys lunged forward to help her, adjusting pillows around her.
“Yes. It’s pretty unbelievable,” he said.
She took a moment to peer around the room. “Where am I?” She had to be in Sideralis. The floors and furniture were made of white wood, and massive glass windows opened up into a spectacular forest view.
“You’re in my room,” Emerys said as he fluffed a feather pillow.
Quinn stilled. “Pardon?”
“I said you’re in my room,” Emerys said, purposefully speaking louder and over-enunciating his words.
Quinn’s voice went several octaves higher. “Why am I in your room?”
He leaned back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
Quinn grasped the white velvet coverlet that spread across the bed. “Because it is highly inappropriate!”
“About that.” Emerys’ winning smile was back. “We should talk.”
She rolled her shoulders back, grimacing a little when the gesture pulled on her shoulder wound. “About your inappropriate behavior?”
“It’s only inappropriate if you don’t feel the same way I do,” Emerys said.
It took a few seconds for his words
to sink in. Does he mean…? When Alastryn called me his beloved, I thought—no, I didn’t even let myself think about it. “What…y-you…?”
“I know I’m an elf, so you might think I’d give some long, flowery speech—or at least recite a sonnet or something—but the very idea of that makes me ill. So, I apologize if you find this next bit lackluster.” Emerys squirmed for a moment, then raised his dark-and-light-swirled eyes. “Quinn…I’m in love with you.”
Quinn stared at him, then pinched herself. I feel pain. Then this isn’t a torturous fantasy brought on by blood loss? She knew she was special to him, but she had not let herself ponder just how strong his affection was. Her experience with Roy had been painful, and she didn’t want a repeat performance. But in love with me?!
“Your silence is not very encouraging,” Emerys said.
“I’m just…s-surprised,” Quinn stammered. “I never thought you would—I mean, why would you? You’re an elf—the Elf King—and I’m a Farset soldier.”
Emerys shrugged. “Elves don’t limit ourselves to our own kind. It’s just usually how it happens as it’s so rare to find a human we’re compatible with.” He hesitated. “You are a soldier, Quinn. That’s one of the things I love about you. But I am, as well. I’m far more comfortable outdoors with a sword than I am with my blasted paperwork.” As if to prove his point, he tossed his pack of papers carelessly aside.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Quinn…when you fought your band in front of the pavilion, I would have given anything to save you, even if it meant staying cursed. I know this might seem fast, and I know loving me would change you forever, but—”
“Wait—what do you mean?” Quinn asked.
Emerys brushed her hand some more, and Quinn feared it would soon grow sweaty from her embarrassment.
“When an elf marries, it’s not just declaring a relationship but also something more spiritual. It will mingle…us. Your life expectancy will be extended to match mine. You might get a bit of magic, but at a bare minimum, you’ll find you can move faster and have more stamina and strength,” he said finally.
Quinn blinked. “Will I get your tapered ears, too?”
Emerys laughed. “No.”
“That’s disappointing,” Quinn said. “I rather like them—though I imagine it means you have to have your helms specially made.”
“I’m glad your ears will stay the same.” He brushed the tips of her rounded ears with the fingers of his free hand. “I like them.”
Quinn tried to hold in a snort of laughter and failed. “Don’t say that where Alastryn can hear you. She’d be horrified.”
“It’s not my fault you have cute ears,” Emerys said.
“No, but it certainly highlights your questionable taste,” Quinn said.
“Quinn.” Emerys tugged slightly on her hand. “You haven’t answered me.”
Quinn felt her cheeks flush. “Oh. Sorry. Y-yes. I love you, too.” She cringed at the stammer in her words.
Emerys leaned closer again. “Really?”
“You think I would joke about something like this?” Quinn demanded.
“No.” Emerys leaned his head against hers. “But you’re certain? No fake smiles just to spare me?”
“I will stab you,” Quinn said.
Emerys chuckled throatily.
“It’s not funny! Why can you doubt my feelings, and I can’t question yours?”
“I’m not questioning you; I’m just giving you the opportunity to escape,” Emerys said.
“Hrm,” Quinn said as his breath fanned her cheek. “I could use an escape right now.”
“Sorry, no,” Emerys said. “It’s too late. You’re mine.” He kissed her cheek, his lips barely brushing her skin, then whispered. “The claim’s already been made. No backing out now.”
“You are sometimes overly bossy.” In spite of the fire in her words, Quinn had to stiffen her back to keep from shivering.
Emerys laughed. “It comes with being a king, I’m afraid. Don’t worry—I’m sure you’ll grow bossy, too, once you’re crowned Queen of the Elves.”
Quinn’s eyes bulged. “Queen? Are you mad—”
Before she could properly start her rampage, Emerys kissed her.
It effectively stopped every racing thought in her mind.
Quinn hadn’t really understood exactly how powerful Emerys was. But now—with his lips on hers—she could feel the immovable strength of his magic as it made her mouth tingle.
She pulled her hand from his and grabbed the front of his tunic, tugging him closer.
Emerys moved to oblige her when the door was thrown open.
“Well!” Alastryn sniffed. “That certainly didn’t take long!”
Quinn squeaked and used her grip on Emery’s clothes to violently push him backwards.
Emerys growled in his throat and turned to scowl at his cousin. “Is there a reason why you didn’t knock?”
Alastryn pursed her lips. “Is there a reason why I should have?”
“It’s my room!” Emerys declared.
“And with Quinn in it, you shouldn’t be doing anything at all reproachable,” Alastryn said.
Emerys plopped down on the edge of his bed. “Dried up hag,” he grumbled under his breath.
Alastryn’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What did you say?”
Quinn laughed and sat up again so she could lean into Emery’s shoulder. “He said congratulations are in order.”
Slightly mollified, Emerys moved so he could slide his arm around the small of her back.
Alastryn laughed and glided farther into the room. “I am so happy for both of you! You will be welcomed twice over, Quinn—first as our savior and then as His Majesty’s beloved!” She threw her arms around the pair and hugged them again. “We’ll have to begin plans for your marriage immediately! Though we must recover the wanderers—obviously—for we cannot allow you to be married, Emerys, without your trusty generals to incite you into improper behavior.”
“Um,” Quinn said.
Emerys groaned. “I should have locked the door.”
Quinn snorted, then covered her mouth with her hands to muffle a yawn.
Alastryn pulled back from the pair, her fair brow creased with concern. “I’m sorry, did I touch your wound?”
“No.” Quinn shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m still fatigued.”
Alastryn made a “Humph” noise in the back of her throat. “Not at all surprising considering what you have been through. I will call for a tray of food, and then you should rest.”
“But I should get out of bed,” Quinn said. “I need to report in and—”
“Rest, Quinn.” Emerys said. “Everything will wait.”
Quinn briefly considered protesting, but already her eyelids started to flutter shut. Maybe a brief rest wouldn’t hurt….
She drifted off to sleep, smiling as she felt Emerys run his hands through her hair before once again taking up her hand.
* * *
When Quinn awoke again, she smiled at Emerys’ coat of arms on the wall but blinked when she heard mutterings. Slightly alarmed, she lurched upright and was surprised to find Roy kneeling next to the bed, his forehead resting on the edge of the feather-stuffed mattress.
“Roy?” Quinn frowned slightly. “What are you doing?” She glanced around the room to make certain she wasn’t missing anything.
Leigh was splayed out in a comfortable-looking armchair, snoring softly, but otherwise the room was empty.
I’m surprised Emerys let them in here—Roy in particular. Last time they met, Emerys sent Roy flying. As Roy hadn’t responded yet, Quinn peered curiously down at him.
He stared up at her like a rabbit cornered by a fox. “Quinn?”
“Yes.”
“You’re awake?”
Quinn arched an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t suffer any head injuries when Emerys threw you, did you?”
“I’m sorry,
it’s just—you—I…I’m so sorry.” Roy scrubbed at his face. “Quinn…I made a terrible mistake. Last night I attacked you, and…”
“You were under the sway of the curse,” Quinn said.
Roy jerked his head up to squint at her face.
Quinn shrugged. “It was easy enough to see. No matter how mad you were with me, you wouldn’t ever truly hurt me.”
Roy snapped to his feet. “I wouldn’t! But it’s still inexcusable. I injured you, Midnight. I attacked you with the intent of killing you!”
Leigh snorted awake with Roy’s impassioned cries and peered around. “What?” she said blearily. “Oh—Quinn! You’re awake!” She pushed herself into a standing position and staggered over to the bed. “How do you feel?” She patted the top of Quinn’s head and rubbed sleep from her eyes.
“Well enough,” Quinn said.
“Good. Bridget will be glad to hear—she’s combing the forest right now looking for any straggler goblins. Wait—I ought to go tell Kenneth and Guy! They were here with us until a few minutes ago. I think they went to get food.” Leigh stifled a yawn and smiled warmly at Quinn. “Do you need anything?”
“Some food would be great,” Quinn admitted. “What time is it?”
“Late afternoon, I think. Ugh, what a night. I’m getting too old for all this excitement. Want anything in particular?” Leigh asked.
“Something bland.” Quinn struggled into an upright position. “Nothing too rich—I’m not yet quite right.”
“Understandable after a day of sleeping. And you need not fret; I’ll tell your worry-wart beau you’re awake as well.” Leigh ruffled Roy’s hair—which the younger soldier took without complaint. “You two brats play nice—I won’t be long.” A moment later Leigh was off, whistling a jaunty tune as she disappeared through the door.
A smile still budding on her lips, Quinn glanced at Roy.
Her longtime friend looked awful. He had dark circles under his eyes; his hair was horribly mussed; his clothes were crusted with dirt, and he sported a glorious black eye. He wouldn’t meet Quinn’s gaze and instead was back to kneeling by her bed.