Page 1 of The Broken Elf King
ONE
The covered wagon jerked to a stop and my shoulder slammed into the person next to me. I mumbled an apology, and then the back canvas flaps opened.
“Out!” the slave trader barked, and we all stood. It took quite an effort considering our hands were tied behind our backs.
I followed the line of my fellow captives, and when I got to the edge of the wagon I jumped, wincing at the sting in my heels. I peered around quickly to find that we were at the golden gates of Elf City, the capital of Archmere. I’d never been outside of Nightfall, and although my current predicament was dreary, I wanted to at least sightsee before I was sold into a life of servitude. My father, a full-blooded elf, spoke fondly of his motherland, and I could see why. Tall trees with white blooms lined the outer castle gates, and rolling hills and mountains surrounded us on all sides. It was breathtaking.
“Head down,” the trader snapped at me, bopping me in the back of the skull.
My feet suddenly caught on my long cloak and I yelped as I went down. With my hands tied behind me there wasn’t much I could do but brace for the fall. Turning my face to the side, I squared my shoulders, hitting the ground hard and smashing my breasts against a rock. Pain splashed across the entire front side of my body, but I’d mercifully kept my nose from breaking, so I was calling it a win. The other servants stopped and peered down at me as I rolled to my side and glared up at the slave trader. He was tall and thickly built, a human but still strong enough to cause some damage if I pissed him off.
I groaned, and then seconds later the trader reached down and hauled me up by the armpit.
“If you can’t even walk straight, I won’t get proper money for you,” the trader spat.
I wanted to throat-punch the bastard, but that was impossible with my current predicament. I’d settle for a headbutt, though it would probably get me killed. The best I could hope for now was for my new master to be a decent person—er, elf.
The line of my fellow indentured servants started walking again, and I was forced to follow, all thoughts of the glorious headbutt behind me. This time I was more mindful of my footing.
I wondered what my aunt was doing right now. When they’d taken me she’d been screaming and crying. She was probably worried sick. I’d lived in Nightfall all nineteen years of my life, and as an elf-human hybrid I was blessed with short-cropped ears. So the queen, nor anyone else in Nightfall had any idea I wasn’t human.
“What’s your debt?” the girl beside me whispered.
Pulled from my thoughts, I shook my head, not understanding what she meant.
“Gambling. I owe two gold coins to Bino,” she offered, looking sullen.
Bino ran the poker ring at the tavern. Now I understood her question. She wanted to know why I was being sold.
I should never have borrowed the money for my aunt’s medicine knowing I wasn’t going to be able to pay it back. But I’d been desperate to stop the seizures that plagued her. I’d never been taught to use my elvin healing, so we were at the mercy of the human doctors and what they had available. My aunt was a human, same as my mother, and my father had been an elf. Mom died in labor with me and my dad was killed in the town square to make an example out of trespassers. He’d been coming to see me. Now my aunt was all I had, the only family I’d ever known.
“Five gold coins. To the chemist,” I told her.
She looked surprised by the amount, no doubt wondering if I had a pill problem. I wished it were that—it would make more sense than the queen charging an arm and a leg for life-saving medication. Sometimes I thought it was her way to weed out the sick. Make all of the weak, poor people dependent on medication die off and strengthen her perfect society. Most of us hated Queen Zaphira. Her sick plan to humanize the entire realm meant that all of the magical races would need to be culled first. The necros, elves, fae, wolvens, and even the dragon-folk would eventually be wiped from Avalier if the queen had her way.
“My aunt is sick. She needs expensive medicine,” I explained to the girl.
My aunt’s seizures started when I was twelve, little fits here and there, but this latest one had been so bad her leg hadn’t worked right afterward. She had to drag it now when she walked. She would need more medicine in a month’s time to keep them away.
“Quit yapping!” the trader yelled, and the girl and I parted, looking ahead and taking in the city.
The elvin city was beautiful. It was carved of alderwood with gold inlay and semiprecious stones. The high-pointed arches were breathtaking. The sunlight hitting the gold inlay and precious stones made it look like they glittered as we walked. But we’d passed through the entire city and I’d barely noticed, lost in my thoughts and talking to the girl. Now we stood at a doorway on the side of the large white castle.
“Servant entrance,” a guard said, and I looked up at the voice.
Don’t let anyone tell you that all elves are tall and skinny. The man guarding the servant entrance to the castle was the opposite of that. A short, squatty man with a beaky nose and ice-blue eyes glared at me. His golden-white hair was tied into a ponytail and braided at the sides. I noticed the sword at his hip and wondered if he even knew how to use it.
There was no way he was a part of the king’s royal guard. The Bow Men were known for their silent and deadly treetop assaults. This man didn’t look like he could climb a tree.
The trader came out of nowhere and grasped my neck, forcing my head down so sharply that pain exploded in my neck. “I’ll pluck those pretty eyes out of your head if you can’t keep your face down.”
I hissed, balling my hands into fists behind me. This rat bastard was really starting to piss me off. I’d been sold into servitude yes, but that didn’t mean I was a punching bag. I was about to give him a piece of my mind when he let go.
I stumbled forward. My face felt hot, I was so angry, but I inhaled sharply, taking deep breaths to calm down.
We were funneled through a hall which was as ornate and decorated as the outside of the castle, and then into a large open storeroom with towering ceilings that rose two stories high. Bags of flour and rice sat in the corner, and piles of pots and pans were stacked in another. We lined up against the far wall and I looked upward at the windows atop the second floor to see some people staring down on us.
Our new masters?
