Page 9 of To Love A Monster
“The elves—allow you to live in their Kingdom? A dwarf? With an Elven accent?”
“I grow a great fruit that can only grow—it’s what saved your life, sir orc. As far as my accent, all I can say is—King Paeris despised my true voice. So forced me to unlearn it.” There was a sadness in her voice that brought even more anger to my heart and hatred for Paeris.
“Enough of me, Sir Orc. How is it you came by this wound?” She asked as she pulled back the furs, my bandage soaked in blood as I allowed her to touch me. I could feel she meant no harm, for if she wanted me dead, she could have left me in the cold.
“Thank you—for—saving me. This is my punishment for choosing the King’s daughter as my mate.” My words caused her hands to stop undoing my bandage as her eyes locked on mine.
“It is truly a wonder you are alive; the mad Kind could have your head on a spike. You are the orc they were whispering about when I took my cart to the palace this evening. The orc that dared to walk among the elves.”
“Mad King?”
“Aye, the once kind-hearted King grew cold when his father died, and then the high elf he took as his queen died suddenly. He burned all from the small villages I used to call home but ordered me to stay and grow his precious fruit. Elves may live for many centuries, but they can bleed.” I observed as she pulled a few small soft berries from her pouch. They were unlike any berry I had ever seen and had a slight glow. I winced as she crushed them over my wound, my mouth dropping open as I watched in wonder as my wound slowly closed. “By next nightfall, your wound will be completely healed, leaving only a small trace of a scar.”
“I must get my Aylin from that wretched palace. I must.”
“Are you mad? The King will have you tortured and killed, and I will have to live with the guilt.” I gritted my teeth as she finished tending to my wound, frustration growing inside me as I slowly and painfully sat up.
“I am mad. I am mad without my mate by my side; you must truly know how that feels. Have you not ever had a mate or a-courting?” My words caused her smile to fade as her tiny fingers grabbed at the locket around her neck.
“King Paeris had him killed as a warning for me. So yes, sir orc—I know the madness filling your soul. How do you plan to save her? Storm the palace? Or better yet, I will sneak you in under my tiny cart?” I rolled my eyes at her words; I knew she was right. I would be dead instantly if I showed my face in Oryndaas.
“I do not know, but if I have to—I will bring the war to his gates and not rest until every elf is dead at my feet.” My words did not frighten my rescuer as she gently handed me a bowl of hot stew, which I eagerly began to devour. “What is your name? I feel like an ass for not asking sooner.”
“Halla. What is your name, sir orc? Or should I call you Sir Ass?”
“Daegon. Daegon chief of the Ironshield clan.” She smirked as she ate her soup, my vision clearing as I finally noticed she was no simple human. “You are a dwarf?”
“What gave me away?” My wound hurt as I chuckled at her snarky words. “The King had most of us killed or driven out of these lands. I am a dying sort, sir Chief.” She said as I noticed a slight hint of her former accent spilling out of her mouth, a sadness growing on her face as I hated the Elves even more. I knew they hated anyone who was not of pure Elven blood, but to take away her mate and her authentic accent was immoral.
“I am truly sorry. The word had not reached my ear that King Paeris had gone mad, for if it had, I wouldn’t have dared to take my beloved Aylin to him. If I had known that he had slaughtered the dwarves of this land, I would have called for war.” My words caused a small hint of a smile to rise over her lips, the tension of the air easing. “I am curious, Halla. I thought that dwarves were excellent craftsmen, not farmers.”
“Do you have anything for me to craft? No? I farm. I have no choice, sir Daegon. I was once a great blacksmith, making the grandest armor in all the land, rivaling the high elves.” Her words were full of memory and sadness, my heart aching for the loss of her people as I ached for the loss of my Aylin.
“You have done so much for me that it is cruel to ask anything else of you, but I need your help, Halla. I must get Aylin from his grip and take her away from all this.”
“Then what? What if the King declares war on your village? On your people?” I smirked at the mere suggestion that King Paeris and his army were any match for my warriors. The clans of this realm had a pact when one went to war. The others (apart from Nightfrost) came when called upon.
“I do not worry about that, Halla.”
“I will help you, Sir Daegon, but you must stay away from that fortress and remain unseen until she is here. If you sneak out or get caught, my hands shall be tied, and I will not risk my life for ye again.”
A DARING ESCAPE
AYLIN
“You must eat, Lady Aylin.” My handmaiden Lura insisted as I refused to look at her, my body feeling weak as the days without food had drained my soul. Days had passed since I had been forced to watch my mate be killed in front of me, my mother and father avoiding me and my wicked tongue. Ivasaar had managed to carry Daegon to the edge of the Kingdom but was unsure if the dwarf, Halla, had found him in time. The unknown was making me go mad.
That hatred I felt for my father was nothing compared to the seething pain I felt when I thought of how my mother betrayed me. She betrayed Daegon, and for what reason, I could not fathom. My father, Paeris, was nothing like she described. He was cold and cruel and lacked any honor. My face was still bruised and swollen from his fierce strike on my cheek, a cold memory I wanted to forget. I had no warm memories of my father. All I knew was hatred and fear of the one who was supposed to be my father.
“Please leave me. I do not wish to eat or speak to anyone.” My voice was hoarse, and my throat was dry, but I no longer wanted to live in a world that was so dark and cruel. Lura left my presence moments later, my eyes welling up with tears once more as Daegon’s warm smile filled my memories. I held the feather tight to my chest as I hoped with all my heart and soul that he still lived and that we would reunite one day.
My body ached as I sat up, the once warm fire now embers as my prison felt cold and isolating. This once glorious Kingdom was now a prison keeping me locked away to die or for my soul to break. My father’s words about taking another mate frightened me, for I could not envision being touched or loved by any other than Daegon. The mere thought made me feel sick.
The food left for me made my stomach churn, but something in my soul was telling me I needed to eat, my stomach knotting as I took a small piece of bread and slowly chewed it. My stomach ached as I tried to eat more, my body shaking as I heard a familiar whistling sound outside my chamber doors.
Every day I would hear a calm whistling followed by a kind voice asking the guards at my door if they wanted berries, bread, or goat meat. The soft melody was a welcome to the silence and harsh footsteps that generally filled my ears, but today something felt different.
“Berries? Bread?”Moments later, a loud thud sounded as I leaped from the bed, fearful of seeing my mother’s or father’s face. I waited with bated breath as my chamber doors slowly opened, a small-statured woman with long blue braided hair entering moments later looking flustered. My eyes went wide as I realized this was no ordinary woman. She was a dwarf. Ivasaar had not described her correctly, for she was strikingly beautiful and noticeable strong.
