“You’re a fool if you think you can be redeemed,” she spat out, her gaze shifting between Malek and Vaskel, “both of you.”
Then she whipped out a dagger from her waistband. Vaskel didn’t think before diving for her, his arm knocking hers as she released the blade at Malek.
The knife spun off-course and clanged into a stone wall, drawing a screech from Marina, who rounded on Vaskel. All pretense of friendship was gone, replaced only by a look of pure spite.
“You’ve ruined everything,” she cried, lunging for him hands like claws.
Vaskel snatched her hands with his and whirled her around, curling an arm around her neck and using another to pin her arms to her side. He tightened his grip around her neck as she flailed, holding her until her movements slowed and she slumped in his grasp.
“Is she…?” Thrain asked.
Vaskel shook his head as he lowered her to the ground. “Just incapacitated.” As much as he would have liked to never have to worry about Marina again, he refused to be a killer. Never again.
A part of him knew that if he spilled blood, even for a justifiable reason, he would ruin everything he’d worked so hard to build in Wayside.
“You saved me.” The voice was shaky and the tone surprised.
Vaskel lifted his gaze to Malek, giving the mage a small nod. Just as he refused to let Marina make him a killer, he refused to let Malek make him heartless.
The mage dredged up a watery smile before collapsing onto the ground.
Thrain rushed forward, bending down and putting a finger to Malek’s neck. “Not dead.”
Footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and Vaskel braced himself for the appearance of guards or perhaps more hellkins. Instead, Erindil emerged from the stairwell, his gaze darting first to the inert hellkin and then to Malek, Thrain, and Vaskel. Then another figure descended the stairs behind him, and Vaskel’s jaw dropped.
Two elves?
Forty-Seven
“There you are, dear boy.”Erindil stepped over Marina as if she were a misplaced throw pillow. “I’ve been looking for you, you know.” His gaze alighted on Thrain, and he blew out a breath. “And you too. I was certain I’d lost you both.”
“Where have you been?” Vaskel fought to keep the sharpness from his voice, but he was too distracted by the presence of a second, regal elf to be too upset. “And who is that?
“As to where I was,” Erindil allowed himself a satisfied smile. “I was tracking down our missing archer. You see, I saw Marina walking without her and deduced that Cali must be hidden away somewhere, perhaps subdued. I was conducting a search of the castle while all this was going on.” He fluttered his fingers in the general direction of the dungeon and the prone hellkin. “As to who this is…” He pivoted to the other elf who looked like a slightly younger, and considerably less fussy, version of him. “This is my nephew.”
Everyone in the dank dungeon stared at the elf, and the only sound accompanying the shock was the plinking of water on stone.
“You mean,” Vaskel’s words tripped from his lips, “this is Lira’s…?”
“Older brother,” Erindil said, then tapped a finger on his chin. “Yes, older. Sometimes the years get a bit muddled.”
The elf with long platinum blonde hair and green eyes that were a perfect match for Lira’s slid an amused glance to Erindil. “I am two hundred years older than Lira.” Then he shifted his gaze back to Thrain and Vaskel and dipped his head as if he’d been formally introduced. “I am Tarrel.”
Instead of the fur-lined robes like his uncle, Tarrel wore forest-green pants that hugged his legs and a matching tunic that almost reached his knees. Brown leather encased his forearms, and a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. He looked more like a ranger than an immortal from Lananore.
Then Thrain barked out a laugh. “It’s you I’ve been seeing and thinking it was Erindil.”
Suddenly Vaskel’s own sighting of Erindil in odd clothing made sense.
Tarrel’s lips quirked almost imperceptibly. “I have been watching Wayside and my sister, sometimes not as unseen as I might have liked.”
Erindil narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You’ve caused lots of confusion, is what you’ve done. I’ve had villagers thinking I’m vaporizing and reappearing.”
Tarrel’s gaze swept over Erindil. “They’ve been mistaking me for you?”
“Yes.” Erindil sniffed. “Just because I don’t dress like I’m living off the land doesn’t mean we don’t share similarities.”
“Youdolook alike.” Thrain chuckled. “I’m just glad there are two of you, and it’s not the ale that was getting to me.”
