A soldier carrying a basita weapon marched forward. Except for the gears and magical mechanisms replacing the hilt, the weapon resembled a common sword, but I knew those blades could disintegrate a person with a click of the gears, and that was nothing compared to the energy pulses they emitted.
The elf guard stood at attention several feet away from us. “The capitol city of Lauressa welcomes you, Sky King.” He spoke like a true elf, his words soft as velvet and slightly accented. “If I may, what reason do you have to visit us?”
Fan’twar nodded. “My ward wishes an audience with the Wult king.”
“Ah!” the elf said. He eyed me and then turned back to the sky king. “Of course. I shall escort her right away.”
“See that you do,” Fan’twar growled.
The elf bowed, though his eyes didn’t flinch. Not a single strand of his russet hair fell out of place. If Fan’twar rattled him, it didn’t show.
As I stepped away from the sky king, the elf’s glare deepened. He said nothing, but I saw him size me up—my dark-reddish hair, my near-human ears, my skin the color of his. His stare only lasted half a second, but I knew what he thought. Half-elf trash. If I hadn’t been the sky king’s ward, I knew he would’ve had something to say about it. It didn’t bother me anymore. I couldn’t help who my parents were. I didn’t understand why it bothered everyone else.
He addressed Fan’twar. “If she’ll follow me this way.”
He marched to an alcove, his heavy boots thudding over the paving stones, and I followed. Twelve massive pillars overshadowed the courtyard, one over each alcove. They looked more delicate than glass, but I knew those twisting towers, carved with vines and grape blossoms, were stronger than steel. I doubted even Fan’twar could bring them down.
Pacing behind the guard, I entered the alcove. Behind me, I heard Fan’twar beat his wings several times. Leaves and debris got caught in the air current. With a whoosh, my stepfather disappeared into the air, leaving me alone. I felt a twinge of nervousness as he left. Dealing with elves had never been my forte. I hoped I didn’t get thrown out before I reached the Wult gathering.
A narrow corridor lined in smooth marble stretched toward a set of golden doors. The guard paused at the doors, opened them, and led me through. His face remained unreadable.
The door slammed shut behind us. We stepped into a broad corridor lined with wooden benches. A set of oaken doors stood at the end of the hallway. Laughter echoed from inside.
The guard peered at me through narrowed eyes. “Our negotiations with the Wults are delicate. Only the magistrate can allow you inside. Unfortunately, his schedule is quite demanding of late. If you will wait here, I will summon him.” He pointed at one of the benches.
“How long will this take?” I asked.
His back stiffened. “Hours, perhaps. Is this unacceptable to you, human?”
I ignored his quip about humans, though I heard the distaste as he said the word. Elves were incredibly patient creatures. I knew when an elf said it might take a few hours, it meant the better part of a week. I didn’t have a week. Jeremiah didn’t have a week. “Yes, it is unacceptable. I must meet with the Wult king now. Can’t you let me in?”
“I cannot. I would advise you to be patient. A true elf would have no problem with this concept.” The guard turned on his heel and marched away.
“This is ridiculous, you know,” I called after him.
He didn’t answer.
As I sat, I knew waiting wasn’t an option. I stared down the doors. Picking locks had never been one of my specialties. I’d have to find another way inside. I supposed I could go talk to the magistrate myself, but that could possibly take more time than waiting here.
Elves and their stupid rules.
“Want inside?” someone asked. I looked up to see a man leaning against the doors. Where did he come from? His facial hair, broad shoulders, and bare feet told me he wasn’t an elf. His hands looked strong enough to split someone’s skull. Blond hair, blue eyes, tanned skin; he looked like he’d come straight from Asgard.
“You’re Wult?” I asked him.
“What gave it away?”
“Do you know how to get in there?” I asked.
“Can’t,” he said. “They’re locked in. Been in there for two weeks now. Can’t even come out for a piss.”
Lovely. “If they’re locked up, then why aren’t they all crying and screaming and begging for help?”
“Wults never cry. And they won’t beg for help.”
A roar of laughter rattled the doors. “Sounds like they’re miserable,” I said.
“Trust me, they are.”
“How did you get out?”
He winked. “I have my ways.”
He pried his massive frame off the wall to stand at his full height, and I made a mental note. Never get in a fight with this guy.
“I could help you get inside if you wish.”
“Could you?” I stood and crossed to the doors. He moved in front to block them.
“It will cost you.”
Here we go—the old Wult bargaining game. I wasn’t in the mood to play.
“I have no money.”
He eyed my bag. “Surely you have something of value.”
“No,” I snapped. “I have nothing you’d be interested in. Either let me inside, or this conversation is over.”
“Show me what’s inside the bag, and then we’ll decide if the conversation is over.”
I tightened my grip around the strap. “What happens if I refuse?”
He leaned forward. “Do you really want to find out?”
Magic throbbed under my fingertips. Would I have to use it?
“Very well,” he said with a wink. “I have decided that asking nicely shall be your price.”
I exhaled. My magic receded for now. “What makes you think I won’t ask nicely? You just met me.”
“I’m very good at reading faces.”
“Unless you’re genuinely interested in helping me, I suggest you move aside.”
He ducked his head in a courteous bow. “If that is your wish.” He stepped aside. “You see—you didn’t ask
