Page 79 of Black Sea

He reached me in a few strides, wrapping me in a strong hug that made me groan in pain. I clung to him as tightly as I could with my free arm, deeply inhaling the woodland scent of his long brown hair tickling my face.

“You’re here,” I sobbed in Elvish. “You’re finally here.”

I couldn’t believe it. Was I dreaming?

His arms tightened around me, conveying his pain to me. “It’s all my fault.”

Because he hadn’t pulled me out of the water when I had fallen into the Thalion Sea from the Glawar waterfall. Because he had stood by while Amlach saved my life. Because he had abandoned me to my fate as punishment.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, kissing my hair and then my temple. “I am so sorry.”

I set aside my resentment and caressed his smooth cheek, feeling an overwhelming gratitude that he had found me. “I know.”

The emotion disappeared from his gaze when he noticed the colored powders highlighting my facial features and the sleeveless, low-cut dress I was wearing. “Spirits,” he cursed with a horrified grimace, as he ran his fingertips over the wounds and bruises on my arms. “Look what they’ve done to you . . .”

I held his hands, giving him a reassuring smile as tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m still in one piece,” I tried to joke.

But he didn’t smile back. His disgusted eyes, fixed on my silver collar, drifted down to the handcuff around my wrist and followed the chain that connected me to Amlach.

He gave him such a cocky sneer that a muscle twitched on my brother’s jaw.

“About time, Prince,” he taunted him in the common tongue.

At those words, strange bells started ringing in my mind. I cut him a wary sideways glance. Why did I get the impression that he expected the elves to arrive? What was he hiding from me?

Araton released my hands and clenched his right fist around the dagger’s hilt on his right side. He looked at Amlach as if he might tear open his throat and reach inside to rip out his windpipe.

“Get her away from this trash,” he commanded in Elvish.

“Araton,” I hissed back, driven by a fierce instinct to protect.

My brother glared at me incredulously.

Amlach’s grin widened in a smugger expression.

One of the soldiers put the arrow back in his quiver and slung the bow over his shoulder, then approached to examine my collar and Amlach’s. Eventually, he said, “It requires a key, my prince.”

As if he understood our language, Amlach looked toward the man who had bought us. “Master Roxior.” He slightly raised the wrist linked to mine. “Would you mind?”

If he was scared like all the other humans gathered in the center of the salon, Roxior didn’t show it. He pranced toward us with all the calm of the world. He cast a quick, cautious glance at my brother and the sword on his left side, then his resentful gaze settled on Amlach.

He watched him from head to toe, as if Roxior were an insect he was ready to squash.

This only worsened the venom on Roxior’s face. The man slightly primmed his upper lip and took out the small, familiar key from an inner pocket of his red robe, handing it to the elf soldier.

As soon as we were free, Amlach violently seized the Master by the collar, causing his crown of roses to drop to the ground.

“If you believed you could screw me over, old man,” he snarled in a rumbly voice that sounded like it came from the bowels of the earth, “you’re very much mistaken.” He released him as if touching him had tainted him, then took a deep breath to compose himself. Afterward, he crossed his arms behind his back and began to circle him like a vulture, adopting an unusually regal stance. “See, Prince . . .” he continued out loud for everyone to hear. “Your sister and I had an agreement with this man. We offered our fighting skills to help him get revenge on those responsible for his beloved gladiator’s death, and in return, he would bring us back to the Lands of the East.” He stopped before Roxior. “But you never had any intention of seeking revenge.”

The Master did not deign to reply, radiating hatred from every pore along with the sweat beading his forehead.

Amlach’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “You know, I’ve done my research. And I found out that the young man was in love with you, true, but you weren’t. And when he refused to give himself to Mistress Yrrek, you did everything possible to convince him, because you wanted every single coin he could get you to pocket.”

Roxior breathed in contemptuously. “In Rubra, everything is a matter of money, Commander.”

Amlach gave him a cold half-smile. “But then,” he went on, “Yrrek had him killed, and you lost your only source of income.”

“Until we arrived here,” I said, feeling so disappointed in Master Roxior and, more importantly, in myself for believing him.