Bound to the Elvin King (48 page)

Something within Andrian seemed to quell before he said wearily, “Well played, Corrupter. You win again.”

Something that felt remarkably like sympathy exploded in Talion’s gut. He knew what it was like to be weighed down by responsibility. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Why didn’t you ever come to me?”

Andrian rocked back and forth on his heels and regarded him with serious eyes. “No one would’ve believed us, not even you.”

Talion opened his mouth to deny Andrian’s words, but he couldn’t force the words out. Andrian was right. No one, least of all Talion, would’ve believed him at the time.

Eamon’s cheerful voice cut in, “I’m sorry to draw this touching little moment short, but it sounds like we’ll have company soon.”

Talion jerked in surprise. The sounds of fighting reached him. Worry burrowed into his mind. His reinforcements were in the tunnels, and he and Maggie were still in Eamon’s hands. He needed to think of something—and quick. Once his men reached the room, Eamon would surely turn desperate. That would make him even more dangerous.

Eamon withdrew a knife from a sheath at his waist, confirming Talion’s worst fear. “It’s time to take care of you both so I can leave before our guests arrive. You’re lucky there’s no time for a longer death. This will have to be short and sweet—with very little pain for either of you.”

Chapter 25

Maggie couldn’t tear her gaze away from Eamon’s knife. Its silver blade glinted from the lit torches on the walls. The faraway sounds of fighting drifted away as her world narrowed down to that one weapon.

Eamon waved the knife in the air. “Who’s first?” He turned to her and grinned. “How about you?”

Talion cursed and bucked against the sentries’ hold. “Get away from her, traitor.”

Eamon froze before slowly turning around. “Traitor?” he asked, voice deadly quiet. “Traitor, when I’m the only one trying to save Eria from the mortal horde?”

If the situation weren’t so serious, Maggie would’ve broken into laughter. Mortal horde? Where did the psycho come up with this? When Eamon stalked over to Talion, any dredges of humor quickly died.

Eamon placed the knife against Talion’s neck, and the blade’s tip sunk into the sensitive skin. A bead of red popped up, followed by another bead. Her stomach rebelled, and she placed a hand over her mouth. Nothing, though, would stem the nausea.

Her heart tried to jump through her mouth, and panic filled the space left in her chest. He couldn’t kill Talion. She wouldn’t allow it. How could she distract him?

With a shaky voice, she called out, “Eamon, you’re a creeper. You’ll always be one and could never be half of the man the king is.”

As she’d hoped, Eamon swung around. He bared his teeth at her. “Talion’s nothing. A traitor to his people. Consorting with humans is a disgrace. His dear wife is probably watching in anguish from the Sacred Isle.”

A low moan came from Talion. “Maggie, don’t,” he said. She ignored him. She couldn’t stop now.

Maggie marshaled her emotions into a somewhat stable state. “She’s dead. I doubt she cares.”

“She was his rightful wife. He should’ve soul bonded with her and has only proved himself an imposter since he bedded you.”

“It wouldn’t have worked. The full bond would’ve failed, dummy.”

Rage tightened his face, and dread slithered up her spine. Oh shit, she’d done it now.

With a few quick strides, he loomed over her. Fisting one hand in her hair, he jerked her head backward. The vulnerable skin of her neck was fully exposed, but he didn’t place the knife there. Instead, he caressed the flat side of the blade over her cheek.

The cold steel wrung a shudder from her. Her idea of distracting him suddenly didn’t seem so bright. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see as Talion shouted and slammed his body against the sentries fighting to restrain him.

“Damn you, Eamon, get away from her.” Talion’s chest heaved as he spoke. “You have me. Let her go.”

“I can’t do that.” Eamon drew the knife along her throat and left a line of pain in its wake. “We wouldn’t want her telling tales, now would we?”

Maggie dared to hardly breathe. So far, the cut didn’t feel deep. No telltale warmth indicating blood sliding down her neck. She’d like to keep it that way.

A snarl left Talion’s mouth. “Relian was too merciful for not ordering your death when you attacked Calantha. I’ll gladly tear you to pieces.”

When Eamon’s attention focused on Talion, the pressure of the knife’s tip lessened, as did his grip on her hair, so she moved her head back into a normal position. Her throat stung, but she squashed the urge to check out the damage. She wouldn’t give the ass the satisfaction.

“Relian merciful?” Eamon said. “More like weak, so unfitting of a prince. But what else could be expected from a lover of human filth?”

“Hey, idiot, I’m not dirty.” Once the words were out, Maggie groaned. Damn it, why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

Apparently, Talion thought the same because he threw her a warning glance. “By Eria’s damnation, woman, are you trying to get yourself killed as quickly as possible?”

His words gave her pause. Did she really want to hasten her death?
If it would keep Talion alive, yes. That’s what this was all about, right? If only one of us can make it out of here, it should be him. He’s a king, and his people need him. I could never be queen without him, not that his people would even allow it. As for the bond, surely, Talion’s strong enough to fight the worst symptoms of a broken bond—insanity and death?

Eamon’s lip curled into a sneer. “I’ll fulfill her wish of a quick death.” He shook his head and looked at Talion. “Why did you take such scum to your bed? Were not our elvin women good enough for you?”

Talion settled his gaze on her. The love and sincerity in his eyes temporarily quelled her terror as he spoke. “No one can take the place of my bond mate, no matter how many kind and beautiful elvin women there are.”

She swallowed against the heavy feeling in her throat. Yes, she’d made the right decision, and in the long run, he’d be fine without her. She had to believe that. Else her composure would desert her, and she’d lose it.
This all couldn’t be for nothing.
Giving her life had to ensure his continued existence.

“You’re a poet now, Talion?” Eamon mocked. “Who knew you had it in you? Too bad you’re going to have to watch your love die in front of you. Think of it as penance for loving one such as her.”

Eamon grabbed her arm. With a movement quicker than the speed of light, he brought the knife up a few feet above her heart. Her gaze ghosted to Talion’s. She wanted to see him, not the dagger, as she died.

Talion roared and, with a strength that seemed to defy human and elvin capabilities, knocked the two guards off him. He streaked across the room as the knife neared impact. Maggie instinctively rolled to the side, hope creeping into her. Though Eamon’s merciless grip wretched her shoulder and twisted her arm, it was a mere discomfort compared to the thought of dying.

Talion barreled head first into Eamon as an agonizing pain sliced through her left side. She cried out and bit her bottom lip. Damn it, the bastard stuck her in the side. It fricking hurt.

She pushed herself up with both arms. Pain shredded her side, and she collapsed back down on her stomach, clutching her injured side. Blood coated her hand. Though she couldn’t maneuver herself so she could see the wound, the slice seemed deep and near her ribcage. She’d be of no help to Talion. It was all up to him now. Speaking of Talion, where was he?

Worry gnawed at her as she slowly moved her head until she spotted Eamon and Talion. They had rolled onto the floor, where they grappled with each other.
Thank God Talion was okay.
For now, he was on top and trying to keep Eamon’s knife away from his throat.

Maggie’s gaze once again honed in on the knife clutched in Eamon’s hand. It was tinged in red.
Her blood
. Nausea ripped through her, but she forced it back. Being sick now wouldn’t help anyone.

A look around the room showed no forthcoming help from Andrian, Alanon, or their sentries. They stood immobile as they watched the fight. Maggie cast a desperate glance their way, but no one paid attention. Frustration and fright scraped down her spine like nails on a chalkboard. If the darkindred hated Eamon so much, why didn’t they help Talion?

Eamon slashed at Talion’s face, leaving a line of red along his cheek. Talion snarled something unintelligible and forced the dagger away from him.

With his free hand, Eamon punched Talion in the nose. The sound of bone breaking made Maggie wince. Talion’s whole body went still before he slammed Eamon’s knife-holding arm against the ground and head-butted him. The dagger flew out of Eamon’s grasp to land a few feet from the bed, and he lay there with a stunned expression on his face.

Yeah, Talion, kick some elf ass.
Maggie would’ve cheered out loud, but all energy had left her. Her head didn’t feel right. She should try to grab the knife, but that feat sounded impossible. Everything seemed to be floating, including her. She closed her eyes in an effort to center her focus.

Once she opened them, Talion had his hands wrapped around Eamon’s throat. Intense rage surrounded Talion like a dark cloak, and his fingers were white from squeezing. Red crept over Eamon’s face, and he clawed his fingers over Talion’s hands. Even though Maggie hated the bastard, some part of her was disturbed at the violence of Talion’s actions. Blood dripped from Talion’s nose and onto Eamon’s cheeks, creating crimson droplets. A gurgling sound came from Eamon, but in a seeming burst of strength, he sent a knee smashing into Talion’s royal jewels.

At Talion’s yelp of pain, Maggie’s slight sympathy for Eamon disappeared like smoke in a storm. Eamon, damn him, took advantage of Talion’s distraction and pushed Talion off him. Lunging, Eamon made for the dagger.

With renewed energy she forced herself to a sitting position, gritting her teeth against the pain that tore into her side. She slumped forward, and her arms trembled under the pressure to keep her upright. “Talion,” she called out hoarsely. “The knife!”

With a sharp jerk of his body, Talion roused himself and staggered to his feet. But Eamon was nearly to the dagger. Ice gripped her heart. There was no way Talion could get there in time. Nor could she. Sitting up was a miracle for her right now.

As Eamon’s fingers touched the knife, Andrian stepped on the blade. A smidgeon of hope trickled into Maggie, and she released the breath she had pent up. Had Andrian decided to side with his brother?

Eamon slowly lifted his head. Disquiet flitted over his face, but faded away swiftly to be replaced by anger. “Give it to me.”

A twinge of satisfaction pierced the haze engulfing Maggie, and she smiled weakly. Eamon’s voice sounded even more hoarse than hers. There was some justice in the world, apparently.

Talion crept over to her side and placed a finger to his lips before he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Are you all right?”

He hadn’t noticed her gash?
Probably not, it was on the side facing away from him, and her gown was a dark red. She didn’t want to freak him out—and have him distracted—by telling him of her injury, so she nodded her head. If they got out of this alive, someone could sigh and gasp over her wound later.

Talion must’ve believed her because his attention zeroed in on Eamon and Andrian—not that she blamed him. Her curiosity soon caused her to follow his gaze.

Cocking his head to the side, Andrian smiled at Eamon. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“You’ll pay for this, darkindred. Think your brother will protect you?”

Andrian shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. There’s no love lost between Talion and I, but I hate you even more.”

“Say goodbye to your darkindred. I’ll crush you all like flies.”

God, where did Eamon get his lines from? A cheesy movie?

Andrian, God bless him, laughed and bent down to retrieve the blade. “I’d like to see you try. You know you can’t kill all of us at once unless you destroy the orb.”

Maggie frowned. Orb? What orb? Oh hell, why not? There were elves. Why not orbs?

“No, but I can kill you and work my way down until I have the complete loyalty of your people,” Eamon said. “I think you’ve outlived your usefulness.” His face scrunched up as if he were concentrating and gathering himself to perform some nasty act, like world domination. Or maybe he was just wanted to take a dump.

She giggled to herself. Why did she find this so funny? There wasn’t anything remotely hilarious about the situation. And her pain should be— Actually, her pain had leveled off, and her arms still managed to keep her from collapsing forward. She still felt batty, though, like she was floating.

When Andrian fell to his knees, clutching his head, her mirth died away. What the hell was happening? When he collapsed to the floor in convulsions, his eyes snapped opened and stared at nothing. She gasped. The yellow of his eyes was fading.

Something clicked in her mind. Eamon. That bastard was doing this.

Talion must’ve come to the same conclusion because he broke out of his stupor and stalked over to Eamon. Yanking Eamon to his feet, he said, “Stop this.” He punctuated his words with a brutal shaking.