A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(79)

“What did you sneak off to steal from my castle?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” I insist quickly.

He laughs and the sound makes my toes curl. It’s a rough and unused sound. But not unpleasant in the slightest. “Everything in this castle is yours, Luella. You can’t steal from yourself.”

My nails dig lightly against the metal. Everything here is mine. There’s too much in those four words to unpack right now.

“In any case, I found it in the ballroom of old queens’ furniture.”

“Ballroom of old queens’ furniture?” He tilts his head to the side.

“Don’t tell me…first the journals and now I know something else about this castle that you don’t?”

“It’s a very large castle.” He gives a nod to the box. “Are you going to open it?”

“Perhaps. Say please?”

“Kings don’t say please.” He looks at me through his long lashes with a lazy smirk, arms folded across his chest. I lament all the previous opportunities I’ve missed to appreciate the way his muscled arms strain against the tight tailoring of his sleeves up close.

“Technically, you just did. So close enough, I guess.” He rolls his eyes at me and I tear away my gaze, trying to focus as I open the box.

“A necklace and a journal… May I?” His hand hovers over the necklace.

“Go ahead. The journal is very fragile, though. I brought it back so I could transcribe whatever I can before the pages disintegrate.”

“You won’t need to worry about that.” Eldas turns the necklace over in his hands and sets it aside. I can’t tell for certain, but I suspect he doesn’t feel the same sensations I did when my fingers came in contact with the polished wood. The only explanation that I can think for why is that the necklace holds some of the queen’s magic—intrinsically different from Eldas’s.

“And why is that?”

Rather than answering, Eldas stares intently at the journal. His eyes flash a pale blue and the temperature in the room plummets. As he lifts his hand, a blue shimmer traces the outlines of his fingers. It condenses in a blink. One second, his hand is empty, the next his fingers have closed around an identical journal.

“True name duplication,” I say, taking the journal from him and remembering the rack of lamb he created during our dinner.

“You may need a couple to get through all the pages. But this way you won’t destroy the original.”

“Thank you.” It’s a thoughtful gesture, one I deeply appreciate.

“It’s the least I can do.” A frown tugs at the corners of his lips. He shakes his head. More strands of hair slip out of the loose knot at the nape of his neck and I barely resist the urge to tuck them behind his ear. “I’ve tried to read all these journals to understand your magic, but I still have yet to grasp even the beginning of it. Which means I have no idea how to help you.”

“You—”

“You’re such an enigma to me, Luella,” he whispers longingly.

There are volumes there in that simple statement. We hold each other by gaze alone as my heart threatens to rip itself from my chest and fall at his feet like a humble offering. I take a slow, tense breath.

“Eldas, you do more than enough,” I whisper.

Eldas, his lean frame washed in moonlight, a shadow given form and outlined by the soft glow of my room’s lamplight… As I look at him, I’m reminded once more that he really is the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. And I have wasted half my time with him frittering away my hours on projects and missions that will keep me from him.

Would it be so bad if you stayed? a tentative voice in the back of my mind poses. You could stay here, with him, forever.

But then I see the redwood throne picking at my bones, scraping me raw until I wither and there is nothing left to be with him. I see a life hollowed out until I don’t even have the energy to want him any longer.

I see my mother and her tear-streaked face as I left. I see my parents alone at their table. I see Emma on the ground, dying from an attack that won’t abate. I imagine kindly Mr. Abbot coming to my shop on instinct, only to remember I’m gone. All of Capton, my home, my patients—my duty to them and, by extension, Midscape—pull on one side of my heart.

Eldas pulls on the other.

No matter what, I won’t survive becoming the Human Queen intact.

“I had an idea of something I’d like to do for you—something that might help you.”

“What is it?” I shift to face him. It places me a half step closer. My attention drifts toward his lips. I can think of several things I’d like for him to do to “help” me.

His every touch these past few weeks has been agony. Agony because my skin is ablaze from the redwood throne. Agony because I can feel him holding back coupled with the stinging memory of his kiss. I can feel him shying from whatever it is growing between us.

“My brother, Drestin, his wife is with child,” he says awkwardly.

“Oh, congratulations.” I try not to let my surprise at this sudden revelation, and shift in tone, diminish my sincerity. This wasn’t where I was hoping things were headed.

“Yes, he’s very excited.” The ghost of a smile crosses Eldas’s mouth. Longing taints any sweetness there is to it. I wonder if he’s imagining himself as a father-to-be. “In any event, his wife will come to term right around the coronation. Naturally, they won’t be coming.”