Page 29 of The Broken Elf King
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Tirth crouched beside me and helped me stand. “Did he heal you?” She looked confused as to how I was still alive.
I nodded.
Then I healed him back … I think, I wanted to say, but didn’t. Whatever that purple breath thing was, it was freaky and I was too shaken to process it properly.
“What’s happened to your hair?” She reached out and fingered my locks.
I frowned, confused at what she meant, then I saw that in a bed of my brown hair was a thick streak of white.
That was too much for me to handle. I just shook my head and burst into tears again.
“Oh, hush, darling. It’s okay.” She pulled me into a hug and it reminded me of my sweet auntie. Oh how I missed her and her big strong hugs. I wondered what she was doing right now and if she was worried about me. If she had any idea how close I just came to death, she would have completely lost it.
Mrs. Tirth walked me back to my rooms and I slipped out of my gown and soaked in a hot bath. Afterward, I put on a short blue satin nightgown and decided I’d read by the window to get my mind off of things. I loved science and mathematics, but for times like these only a romance novel would do. Luckily, the king had many in his library, I supposed from his sisters or even his mother.
The one I had my eye on was by J. Hall. It was about a fallen winged being called an angel and her soulmate lover. I stroked the gold feather embossed on the cover and then startled when a small rap sounded at my door.
I set the book down and rushed forward just as the white note slipped under the door.
I held my breath as I opened it.
It was longer than all the others and I brought it back to the couch with me to read.
I hope you’re okay.I didn’t want to wake you if you were resting.
Thanks for… saving me.
Lottie is a No. She told Mrs. Tirth she could never live in constant fear of being poisoned.
Back to the drawing board tomorrow? The elders want a meeting first thing in the morning.
-Raife
I stroked the words,I hope you’re okay. Never in a million years did I think I’d be at the service of a king to pay off my debts, and I hadn’t expected him to be a decent man. Kings were jerks, rich bastards who acted above you and never let you speak your mind. Not Raife. It was my job to find him a wife, anddammitI was going to. I knew now more than ever how important getting the council to back his war was. The queen wouldn’t stop coming after him—his future wife, their children. If Raife and his army really stood a chance at taking her out, then I wanted to help him. It would throw Nightfall into chaos for a small time but then one of her more level-headed sons would take over. Her eldest, the psychopath of the family, was killed several months ago by Dragon King Drae Valdren. Now all that was left were her six sons who seemed decently normal as far as rulers went. Nothing like their monster mother.
I barely slept. Instead I drew up pages and pages of ideas. After crossing them out, I landed on the three most plausible and wrote them in my best cursive script.
An arranged marriage like the fae do, with a highborn family where Raife pays a dowry of sorts and the woman agrees without even seeing him.
A grand ball with every single woman in all of Archmere in attendance. He would pick the prettiest one after a night of dancing and propose the very next day.
And lastly, a totally desperate idea, a fake marriage. A friend or old lover who would agree to a charade to convince the council he was settled and on his way to having heirs so he could fund his war. Dara?
The next morning,I wore a blue crushed velvet gown with a sleeveless lace-up corset, and clutched my little marriage ideas parchment proudly.
The meeting with the council was in five minutes, and after we heard what they had to say I’d scheduled in some time for just Raife and I to brainstorm my ideas and which one he might like.
I stopped by the kitchens. Mrs. Tirth was there with a frown as the rest of the staff cleaned and did dishes around her. Everyone looked sullen and the mood was low. “He’s decided to fast today,” she said.
My stomach dropped. He was too scared to eat. After last night he’d rather not eat than be poisoned again. I didn’t blame him.
I frowned. “Do we know anything about the poison used?”
She shook her head. “The queen’s special blend. Tasteless, scentless, and now takes at least five minutes to kick in.”
I picked up an apple and took a bite, deciding to just have the small piece of fruit for breakfast. Surely the poison couldn’t be injected into an apple, could it?
After I swallowed the one bite, I wondered if itcouldbe injected into an apple and chucked it into the trash. “When will Chef Brulier be back?” I asked her.
