Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 27: Nothing says romance like graphic violence

Ella flopped onto her bed unceremoniously, and let out a groan as the feather-stuffed mattress sunk under her weight. She stretched her arms and legs wide, closing her eyes and allowing the inviting warmth to soothe her tired body.

What. A. Day. After Tamsyn had left, only after helping Ella write almost four hundred invitation letters, Ella still had work left to do. It took Ella several more hours to complete the budget for the events, the temporary staff she would need to hire, the decorations, food, preparations, as well as all pertinent arrangements.

Even after dinner and a well-deserved bath, Ella's head still spun with tiny numbers and letters. She was once again grateful that she'd been taught how to appropriately manage a household, and she found herself mentally chastising a younger Ella, who had once thought it all silly and useless.

There was more to do, but she would leave that for the morning. Now, she wanted nothing more than to sleep. She burrowed deeper into her bed, the sheets soft against her skin, the crackle of the logs in the fireplace a soothing backdrop. Behind her closed lids, abstract figures drifted lazily, lulling her to sleep.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Ella's eyes peeled open, and a frustrated whine crawled up her throat. Her body rebelled against the idea of leaving her warm nest, and she considered ignoring the sound, but there it went again. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Muttering under her breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled on a robe, hastily making her way over to the balcony. There, she found a familiar masked figure. The bird.

Wordlessly, she opened the doors and allowed the spy to come in, who as always, declined the seat she offered, choosing to remain near the doors of the balcony.

"Well?" she asked, after perching against an armchair.

"The service you requested of the Witch is complete," the Bird said in that flat voice. "He has been able to locate the elf girl."

Ella jerked upright, eyes open like saucers. "He was able to find Lyra? Where is she?"

Hope ballooned in her chest, filling it to the brim. After so many months of searching for her, they finally had a clue. A chance to get Lyra back home. It was too good to be true.

The spy held up a leather-clad hand, dashing some of her expectations. "He was able to find a way to locate her. The rest is up to you."

Ella wanted to ask more questions, but she held herself back, simply nodding to herself. "Alright," she said, smoothing her robe. "When can we collect, then?"

"Whenever you wish, he waits for you." The spy paused. "He said that if you still wish to find your sister, he is willing to do so."

Ella blinked at the spy, processing the words. Then, sound rushed to her ears. For a moment, she feared she was still in bed, dreaming impossible things, and this was all in her imagination.

"He can?" she managed weakly, the armchair denting under her grip.

The bird nodded. "You need only bring him a personal item of your sister's, and he will contact you when the work is done."

Oh, Gods. Rosie. Her baby sister. Ella was going to see her again. Her nose and eyes began to tickle, and to stave off the urge to cry and laugh hysterically, Ella focused on the matter at hand.

"Good, good. Excellent," she muttered, swallowing thickly. "What items would these be? I don't quite understand."

"Personal items. Blood, hair, an oft worn jewellery piece. Dandelion said--" the Bird cut off, that flat voice almost an annoyed grumble. "Take it up with the witch. I am a spy, not a witch's assistant."