The Elven King's Consort

Chapter 62: Battle

The latch to the hinges released, making a quick, sharp snap sound above my head. Keyair pushed the lid up and slid it to the side. A short wooden ladder folded multiple times, springing out, was wrapped in a thick wire, ensuring it stayed together. Untying it, he unfolded it repeatedly until the legs touched the ground near our feet. He gave it a good shake and checked its sturdiness; with his hand still grasping one of the steps, he nodded for me to go up first. I swallowed hard but hid my fear that threatened to burst and show itself. This was it—the moment when we came face to face with Václav. But I still lacked a suitable weapon, and my magic was still new to me. I've only practiced using it when I had something that could hold it and carry it off.

One step at a time, I climbed up, hesitant to push my head past, but with one final decision, I forced the fear down away and climbed out. The kitchen was silent and empty; we were the only ones there.

"Where is everyone?"

Taking the last step, he glanced around, a frown on his face.

"I'm not sure, but this is better; we won't have to worry about the bodies or over-exerting ourselves."

"I don't have a weapon, Keyair, just these flimsy daggers and short knives."

"Let's keep an eye out for some around the area. My father collects many, so there's going to be something you can use around."

I nodded understanding, but still, the uncomfortable feeling nagged at my insides, turning it upside down. Glancing around the kitchen, it was in order. Nothing seemed out of place, and it was neat and clean, as if no one had come yet to prepare a meal. Two double doors with windows stood at the end of the room, and we made our way there. His back to the wall, he peered through, checking the area. Pushing one door open slowly, I glanced out, checking both sides; no one was around, not even a guard stationed along the walls.

It was all too quiet. The walls were deep red and lined with golden-painted leaves, starting from the edge of the ceiling to the middle, where a wooden border met it. A deep, rich brown covered the bottom half.

Red, wide, heavy curtains hung next to each doorway with golden, thick, hay-like yarn to keep them clasped, leaving them open, and I could see all the way down. Marbled white floors brightened and expanded the area, making the collection of artwork and weaponry more exquisite. There was something from every kingdom; some were aged and labeled with plaques as early as the appearance of the first lycans. The further we walked, the more the walls became heavily lined with weapons.

A set of bow and arrows in a brown leather quiver with golden threading along the wall was among a thrown-together pile of rusted, chipped, unused shields and swords. Like they were no longer useful and would eventually be melted down for restructuring. Keyair glanced around nervously as I walked over and gingerly threw the set over my shoulder, feeling complete, no longer useless. A dull medium sword with a small chip at the end and a loose green-clothed hilt caught my eye. It didn't matter to me that it wasn't perfect as long as it was still useful and could do its purpose. Sliding it into the empty sheath at my side, we pressed on, staying alert and wary.

Loud sounds started appearing the further we ventured in. At first, it seemed there may have been an argument, but as we stopped near the shut curtains, we realized what was going on. It was a battle.

Peering from the crack, my pupil was just large enough to grasp the entire scene. Keyair placed his arm atop the edge of the wall above his head, leaning in his finger from his opposite hand, pulled past the curtain, opening them a few inches more. The light trailed in, landing across his face and accentuating his features. The black eyes were glossy, and his hair became a few shades brighter. The tanned skin glowed golden with a hint of olive undertones.