A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(64)

“He’s the best boy and deserves to be spoiled,” Willows says defensively. “Oh, I’ve been working on the biscuit recipe. Let’s see if we can’t find something you’ll finally eat.” Hook has had no interest in food, much to Willow’s dismay. Whatever Fade beasts eat, it’s not anything Willow has concocted. At best, Hook has politely indulged him for the sake of more scratches. “They’re right over—oh. Oh! Your Majesty!”

I glance over my shoulder to see Willow bowed at the waist before Eldas. Hook continues to lie on his back, as if satisfied by embarrassing the poor man. I roll my eyes.

“I see this is how my resources are being spent,” Eldas says, suddenly brisk again. “To make biscuits for creatures of the Fade.”

“I… Well, that’s… You see…” Willow still has yet to straighten. I can see him almost trembling.

“Leave him alone, Eldas,” I scold and step down from the stool, journal in hand. Crossing, I hand it to the Elf King. “He’s the best healer this castle will ever have and you know you’re not going to get rid of him just because he wants to spoil my wolf. Especially not when Poppy is away.”

Eldas narrows his eyes at me but says nothing. I dare to grin up at him. I can almost see him fighting a smile.

Movement behind Eldas catches my eye. Any retort I had in mind fades into a soft, “Oh no.”

Harrow is slumped against a man with long lashes and wavy brown hair. He was the quiet one with his nose in the book when I first met Harrow and his motley crew. Sirro, that was his name.

Sirro has a panicked expression as he struggles to get Harrow to the laboratory. Harrow, for his part, can barely stand. His head is slumped and every other step seems to give out with his feet dragging limply.

“What is—” Eldas turns and stops short. I see his whole body tense. The room is noticeably colder. “What is the meaning of this?” he says, his voice deathly soft.

“Harrow, he…” Sirro looks between me and the king. I’m surprised when his eyes land on me. “He told me to come here and find you.”

“Find me?”

“He said you could heal him again.”

I curse several times under my breath. I hadn’t told anyone about that day. This certainly wasn’t how I expected Eldas and Willow to find out.

“Put him here.” I point to the stool I healed him in last time. “Tell me what happened.”

“We… Well, we…” Sirro glances between me and Eldas as he continues to bring Harrow forward.

“Whatever happened, I need to know.” I can only imagine the debauchery they’ve been up to. “I can assure you the king will be much more cross if you don’t tell me what’s going on and something terrible happens to his brother.”

“You do not speak for me,” Eldas says, perhaps mostly on instinct. I stick out my chin and glare at him. “But the queen is correct,” Eldas relents. I press my mouth closed to keep it from falling open in shock. He admitted I’m correct without prodding. “And I am most interested in why my brother is in this state. Willow, you may leave.”

“Luella, do you need—” Willow tries to ask but Eldas won’t let him get a word in.

“Luella clearly does not need help if she is healing him again.” The way Eldas says the last word tries to knot my stomach, but I suppress it defiantly. I’m not going to regret helping a man in need. “Go, Willow,” he barks.

Willow glances at me and hastily departs. Hook growls at Eldas’s tone, and likely because his belly scratcher was just sent running. I’m too focused on Harrow to worry about Hook or Willow right now.

“Tell me, Sirro,” I say and look the man right in the eye. There’s only you and me right now, I want to say. Ignore the mighty Elf King standing right next to you. “What’s wrong with him? What did he do?”

“We were out at Harpy’s Cranny,” Sirro starts, still glancing at Eldas.

“Harpy’s Cranny? That no-good—”

“Eldas, enough,” I interrupt the king sharply. “Sirro, look at me; what happened?”

He takes a deep breath. “Last night we went to Harpy’s Cranny, the four of us. Aria was celebrating because she just got a part in the Troupe of Masks and found out she’ll begin touring with them before springtime rites, starting in Carron in a few weeks. There was faerie mead and I remember dancers…” Sirro shakes his head. “I don’t…”

“You’re doing great,” I encourage. “Did he just have mead?”

“That’s all I saw. But he did go off with Jalic at one point? Maybe Aria? I’m not sure. I think that happened. Jalic was interested in some sweetchime I had. I gave him some earlier in the day. Perhaps they did that?”

“Sweetchime?” I’ve never heard of it.

Eldas grimaces. “It’s a pathetic substance that some say enhances the effects of alcohol. They hear chimes and laughter and dance with the spirits under the full moon on it.”

“It’s harmless. Or, I thought it was. You don’t think there maybe was something more, do you?” Sirro says worriedly.

The sight of Aria in the alleyway with the horned fae returns to me. I can’t let the fae’s attack on me prejudice me against Aria. If Eldas still hasn’t uncovered anything there—and I’m somehow certain he would tell me if he had—then I won’t worry. “I’m sure it’s just too much,” I lie and start for the conservatory.