Wraith(20)

‘If you’re really so desperate to see the less salubrious parts of Stirling,’ Ghrashbreg continued, ‘then you are welcome to visit them. But let us arrange a small escort for you. If any harm were to come to you, Holyrood would not be pleased. We wish to avoid the Prime Minister’s displeasure. In fact, if you can be patient and wait until tomorrow night, I will come with you.’

De Florinville’s head tilted, a single dark curl falling across his forehead. This was no artful or coquettish tease though; his eyes were as hard as black ice. ‘I don’t want a guided tour. I want to see the city for myself.’

‘Then you can lead the way and we will merely follow.’ Ghrashbreg paused. ‘But please, give us time to do what we can to guarantee your safety.’

De Florinville’s expression was inscrutable. Whereas Ghrashbreg had a number of interesting tells, I hadn’t the foggiest idea what the Dark Elf was thinking.

When he nodded his head in agreement, I almost fell over in surprise. Just like that, the tension in the room dissipated. I shook my head in amazement. Half a beat ago it had seemed that we were a hair’s breadth away from all-out war because Gabriel de Florinville wanted to play tourist and Ghrashbreg was determined to stop him. Now it appeared we were all friends again.

The goblin stood up. ‘Excellent. In that case, I’ll leave you two to enjoy the cake on your own. I’ll take my leave so I can make the necessary arrangements.’ He bowed once. He could afford to; he’d managed to get the Dark Elf to back down.

‘Well,’ the human said ‘so much for our temporary escape.’ He didn’t sound particularly impressed. ‘You let him stop you. Why are you so happy about it?’

I looked at the Elf. He was right; de Florinville was grinning like a schoolboy. ‘Because Ghrashbreg isn’t quite as clever as he thinks. When he said they were only trying to keep a hold of what was theirs, his left hand gave him away. He was holding onto the chair of that arm so tightly it’s a wonder it didn’t snap off. It wasn’t just proprietary concern over the city, it was excitement.’

Huh. He’d been paying attention. That was as interesting to know as it was dangerous to realise. This Dark Elf didn’t only rely on his internal power and strength, he used intelligence too. I was impressed.

‘Excitement? What on earth could he be excited about? Are you sure you didn’t read him wrongly?’

I leaned forward, curious to see if de Florinville could provide an answer. In the nick of time, however, I realised that my shoulder was jutting out and casting an odd shape onto the floor. I yanked myself back then, heart rate fluttering faster, glanced up. Thank goodness. It had barely been a second and neither the Dark Elf nor his companion had reacted. That was close, I scolded myself. This was not the time to start getting reckless.

I’d probably been saved because the goblin servant returned – and this time he really did have a chocolate cake with him, a real chocolate cake that was bigger than any piece of confectionary I’d seen in years, siege or no siege. I goggled at it, counting five whole tiers. There were only four of us in the damn room – and I was supposedly non-existent and one of us was a servant. This cake would feed my entire street for a week and yet it had been given to two VIPs who looked only slightly interested in it.

‘Wow,’ the human said.

Wow? That was all the man could say? The servant departed silently while we all stared at the cake. I was aware that, five miles away, my physical form was salivating.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Gabriel de Florinville. ‘But are they trying to impress us or divert us?’

Personally, I was both impressed and diverted, not to mention royally pissed off at the waste. The goblins were probably trying to achieve the same effect on their invited visitors.

‘You’re the one who seems to have a hotline to the goblins’ inner thoughts,’ his companion grumbled. ‘You tell me.’

Rather than answer him, de Florinville walked over to the cake and dipped his finger into the icing like a child. The ganache glistened. I noticed a small smile on the Dark Elf’s mouth but it only just registered before he turned and swiped at me without warning.

I threw myself backward, doing everything I could to get away but it was too late. The Elf had hold of my shadow and was already murmuring the incantation required to keep hold of me. I writhed and pulled at my wrist, desperate to get away, but his grip tightened and burned into my shadow. Pain flashed through me as magical symbols appeared on his skin, glowing golden against his flesh.

I struggled. All I needed was a second then I could run. I already had a route – I just had to fly across the ceiling, reach the far window then I’d be out into the night sky and fleeing down the castle walls.

The Elf was obviously aware of this and he wasn’t letting go.

Concentrating, I let my legs to grow more substantial. I kicked upwards, connecting with a broad, muscular thigh, and the Elf hissed out a curse. I tugged and kicked some more but his grip tightened, sapping my strength until all I could feel was mind-numbing pain and ever-growing exhaustion.

‘Cease,’ he commanded, his voice reverberating around my skull. He was using his power to turn my own will against me. I knew it was happening but I was powerless to stop it. ‘Cease,’ he said again.

I fought against it as best as I could but in seconds he had me on my knees. Pain shot through my veins, flaring out from where de Florinville’s fingers encircled my wrist. I dragged my remaining energy into an imaginary ball, preparing to push it against him in one last-ditch effort to break free, but he was one step ahead of me.