Beneath the Armour: An Elven Desire

Chapter 10

Chester's face reddened with rage as he paced the room, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Where else is the king demanding more soldiers? Surely we are not the only ones being targeted," he spat, his voice laced with frustration. The room, lavishly decorated with tapestries and golden chandeliers, felt stifling under the weight of his anger.

Drake, reclining in his chair, rolled his eyes and swirled his drink lazily. The amber liquid caught the light, casting fleeting shadows on the ornate table. "There are plenty of others required to provide more troops. Some have a larger quota to meet than yours," he responded calmly, his tone almost dismissive.

Chester scoffed again, his frustration mounting. "This war has been going on for too long. Sons taking over from their fathers' grudges. Ridiculous."

Drake nodded, though his expression remained bored. He had heard these complaints too many times. "Indeed," he hummed, his eyes drifting to the door, silently praying for an interruption.

As if answering his unspoken wish, the doors swung open, and Drax entered, dragging a bound Elf behind him. Drake's initial relief at the interruption was quickly replaced with concern as he noticed the blood on Drax's shirt. His eyes met Drax's, a silent inquiry passing between them. Drax gave a subtle nod, assuring Drake that he was alright despite the blood.

Chester's voice boomed through the room, breaking the tense silence. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked, rising from his seat, his face a mask of indignation.

Drax shoved the Elf, making him fall to his knees. "That's what I would like to know. Why is one of your servant pets sneaking around, spying on us, and then attempting to kill us?" Drax's voice was as sharp as a blade.

Chester's eyes narrowed in frustration. "What did you just say?" He turned his gaze to the Elf, his voice rising. "Leaf, explain yourself!"

Leaf flinched at the sudden noise, his eyes wide with fear. "Master, I was not spying. I was simply in town, and he threatened me. I only tried to defend myself and escape," Leaf pleaded, his voice trembling.

Drax scoffed. "If you weren't spying on us, then why were you at the markets, the pond, and the square? Hidden away at the back. I saw you." Leaf's face paled, his surprise evident.

Chester rubbed his face, a groan escaping his lips. "Attacking a soldier from the palace is a hefty crime. My wife will deal with this as it is her pet," he said wearily.

The doors burst open again, and Katrina strode in, her presence commanding. "What is the meaning of this? Leaf, come," she barked. Leaf quickly raced to her side, kneeling at her feet. Katrina's face twisted in disgust as she saw his bruised cheek and swollen eye. "Who did this?" she demanded, glaring at Drax and Drake.

Drake and Drax exchanged glances before looking towards Chester. Chester sighed, exasperated. "He attacked the soldiers. Why was he out and about in the markets unsupervised?" he questioned.

"Markets? No, Leaf was meant to be dancing for some of our high patrons," Katrina said, her eyes narrowing as she glanced down at Leaf. Leaf ducked his head, guilt written all over his face. A loud slap echoed through the room as Katrina struck Leaf. He whimpered, and Katrina's breathing grew harsh. "You have disobeyed me. You will be punished severely. I'll deal with this. Come."

She grabbed Leaf by the hair, dragging him towards the door. "He attacked a royal soldier. The only punishment for that is death," Drake called out evenly.

Katrina paused, her grip tightening on Leaf. "We will discuss this later. For now, I've got some work to do," she responded coolly before leaving the room.

Once they were gone, Drake turned to Chester, his expression hardening. "We will be leaving within two days. It seems your rule is vastly different than we expected," he stated firmly, his words heavy with unspoken meaning.

Chester's face flushed with embarrassment. "No, I assure you, this will be dealt with. You can stay as long as you need," he said, desperation tinging his voice.

Drake nodded curtly before excusing himself. Drax followed him out, the tension between them palpable. As they walked away from the manor, Drake's concern for his friend resurfaced. "Your wound?" Drake started, but Drax cut him off.

"The Elf stabbed me, yes. I underestimated the little bastard. Fay knocked him out and healed me," Drax whispered.

Drake stopped walking, his eyes scanning Drax's face. Drax smiled faintly, his rugged features softening momentarily. "Surprised the s**t out of me too. But she's resting now, at the inn with Alison. Did you know she carries a knife?"

Drake frowned, his mind racing. "No, no I did not."

Drax let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet night. "She's something. I see why you enjoy her company. She's nothing like the elves we have met before."

Drake's face hardened at Drax's words, a stern glare silencing his friend's laughter. When Drake said nothing, Drax smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Dude, it's okay. I know she's yours. I'm just saying I get it."

Drake merely nodded, his thoughts already shifting to the inn where Fay was resting. He quickened his pace, the urgency in his steps clear. They had only been in this place for a short time, and already, complications had arisen. He needed to ensure Fay was safe.

Drake's heart pounded as he stood outside Fay's door, the weight of his decisions pressing heavily on his shoulders. The dim light of the hallway cast long shadows, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before gently knocking and entering the room.

The atmosphere inside was serene, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind. Fay lay peacefully asleep, her delicate features softened by the moonlight filtering through the window. Her presence was a balm to his weary soul, yet it was also a reminder of the danger that lurked around every corner. He felt a sharp pang of guilt and fear—had he made a terrible mistake by bringing her into his world?

As his gaze swept the room, he instinctively caught Alison's hand mid-air. Her eyes blazed with fury, a silent storm he hadn't anticipated. Confusion surged through him, but as he followed her gaze to the cloth on the table—the one that concealed Fay's pointed ears—understanding dawned. Alison knew.

"Outside now," she hissed, her voice a strained whisper brimming with barely contained anger. Reluctantly, he released her arm and watched as she stormed past him, her indignation palpable.

Drake's eyes lingered on Fay, asleep and oblivious to the chaos her presence had stirred. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect her, to shield her from a world that would never accept her for what she was. He nodded to Drax, silently entrusting him with her safety before following Alison down the stairs.

The inn's kitchen was quiet, the faint scent of herbs and baked bread hanging in the air. As they crossed into Alison's small attached house, Drake braced himself. The moment the door clicked shut, Alison spun around, her eyes fierce and accusing.

"She's an Elf! What the hell were you thinking?" she shouted, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and betrayal. "You didn’t even warn me!"

Drake ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. "I had no choice, Alison. She wouldn't have survived on her own out there."

"And she'll be safe with you?" Alison shot back, her voice rising. "Do you have any idea what they'll do to her if they find out? Elves are enslaved here, Drake. It’s not just dangerous—it’s a death sentence!"

The gravity of her words hung between them, a chilling reminder of the peril they faced. Drake's resolve wavered, but only for a moment. "I know the risks," he replied softly, his voice steady despite the tumult within. "But I couldn't leave her outside the walls or they would have gotten suspicions".

Alison's anger simmered, her eyes still blazing. "You should have told me. You should have trusted me with this."

"I should have," Drake admitted, regret threading through his words. "I'm sorry".

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the small room, where the air was thick with tension. Outside, the wind howled like a restless spirit, ruffling the leaves of the ancient trees that surrounded their hideout. Alison’s gaze drifted to the window, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken fears.

“The Elf that attacked Drax,” she began, her voice trembling with urgency, “you do realize most Elves have magic. He probably sensed Fay.” Her thoughts trailed off, lost in a looming dread. “If he tells Katrina…”

A shiver ran down her spine, and she turned away, her eyes glazing over as she contemplated the potential consequences. “I don’t even want to imagine. I don’t want Fay to have this type of life. She deserves better, Drake.”

Drake watched her, the flicker of candlelight illuminating the worry lines etched on her brow. Alison’s shoulders slumped, a visible manifestation of her despair. Then, like a storm gathering strength, her expression shifted to one of fierce anger. “I can’t believe you brought her here! How did you even meet?”

Drake raised his hands in surrender, feeling the heat of her anger wash over him. “She saved me,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “I was stabbed by some rebels. I fled and stumbled upon a well-hidden Elf village in the forest. But they saw it too, and they burned it to the ground. It gave me just enough time to escape. I believe Fay survived, and she found me. Lucky for me, her magic is attuned to healing. I might have lasted a day at most. I would have certainly been dead before we made it to the next town.”

His thoughts drifted back to that day—the chaos, the flames licking at the sky, the cries of the villagers echoing in his mind. “She helped you after her village was destroyed?” Alison asked, disbelief mingling with a hint of admiration.

Drake shrugged, the weight of the memories pressing heavily on his chest. “Yeah. I don’t understand it either. Not only that, but she pulled a knife on Wyatt to protect me, thinking he was one of the men after me. What was I meant to do after that? She has no idea of this world, and yet she makes for a great healer amongst the squad. She’s saved Drax too.”

Alison sank heavily into a chair, her fingers gripping the armrests as if they were the only thing keeping her anchored. “We can’t let her be discovered. Not with what she has done. But even getting her out of here safely—our world is not suitable for Elves right now. She will never be safe.”

Drake leaned against the door, irritation bubbling within him. “I’m well aware of that, Alison,” he growled, frustration seeping into his voice. “But what choice do I have? She’s practically dead if I leave her behind.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Drake couldn’t ignore the part of him that was inexplicably drawn to Fay. It was more than just gratitude; it felt like an invisible thread binding them together. First him, then Wyatt, Drax, and now even Alison seemed entranced by her spirit.

Just as he was lost in thought, a sharp knock on the door the door jolted him back to the present, echoing through the cramped room. The sound was urgent, a stark reminder that their time was running out.

“Who is it?” Drake called, his voice low and cautious.

“It’s Wyatt,” came a muffled reply from the other side. “We need to talk. Now.”

The door swung open to reveal a royal rider, his cloak still dusted with the evidence of a long journey and Wyatt. “I bring orders from King Riland,” the royal rider announced, handing a sealed letter to Drake with a respectful bow.

Drake felt a familiar sense of duty as he broke the seal, unfolding the parchment. The script was unmistakably the king’s, commanding his attention and respect.

“To Commander Drake,

Your presence is required at Mount Pyra. Within its fiery depths lies the Emberstone, an artifact of untold power. Retrieve it with all haste.

The stone’s location is treacherous, hidden among the volcanic caves, where the fire drakes dwell. Its importance to the kingdom can not be overstated.

This artifact will bring power to the kingdom, to us, to me.

Trust in your king, my friend. The future of our realm depends on this endeavour.

— King Riland”

Drake’s brow furrowed as he read the words. The Emberstone was something out of legend, a gem said to command fire itself. Why would Riland need such a thing? But the king was not just his ruler; he was a friend. Loyalty ran deep in Drake's veins, and questioning the king was not in his nature. But why go after something of legend that may not even exist?

He handed the letter to Wyatt, who scanned it quickly, his eyes widening slightly. “Mount Pyra? That’s no easy task,” Wyatt said, concern threading through his voice.

“I know,” Drake replied, his mind already turning to the logistics of the mission. “But if King Riland believes it’s necessary, then we must act.”

Wyatt nodded, his trust in Drake unwavering. “We’ll need to prepare the squad at first light. If the Emberstone is real the journey sounds dangerous, but if it’s for the kingdom...”

Drake clapped a reassuring hand on Wyatt's shoulder. “We’ll manage. We always do.”

"Wyatt," Alison called softly, her voice trembling with emotion, the weight of impending separation heavy in the air. The fading light of dusk cast a golden hue around them, emphasizing the urgency of the moment. "You're going?" she whispered, her heart aching at the thought of him leaving.

Wyatt met her gaze with a sad smile, one that spoke of both love and resignation. "Oh, love, you know I don't have a choice," he murmured, pulling her into a tight embrace that felt like a fragile lifeline. The warmth of his body enveloped her, yet the chill of uncertainty seeped into her bones. "I need to go with Drake—to keep him and all the others safe."

"Take me with you," she pleaded, her voice barely more than a breath, a desperate hope flickering in her chest. Even as she spoke, she felt the weight of reality settling like a stone in her stomach.

He shook his head gently, his thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair from her face. "Not this time, love. But I promise, soon." His voice was tender, yet the finality of his words pierced through her like a dagger.

Alison allowed a single tear to slip down her cheek, tracing a path of sorrow that mirrored the crack in her heart. She opened her mouth to voice her next question, but Wyatt anticipated her thoughts, his eyes deepening with concern. "I'll be gone what? Two weeks at most. Four days to Mount Pyra, five to the kingdom, five to get back here." His smile, though loving, felt like a fragile mask over the uncertainty lurking beneath.

"Just two weeks," he repeated, as if willing the words to be true. But Alison could see through the façade, the unspoken truth hanging between them like a dark cloud. She knew that once he reached the kingdom, the demands of duty would pull him deeper into a world of chaos, and those two weeks could easily spiral into months of separation.

"Okay," she whispered, the word catching in her throat like a shard of glass. The acceptance left a hollow ache in her chest, but she couldn’t voice the fear that gnawed at her—fear that this would be the last time she held him close, the last time she felt the warmth of his love wrap around her.

Drake stood at a distance, his heart a heavy stone in his chest as he watched Wyatt and Alison embrace. A bitter pang of resentment coursed through him. He hated the world—the unforgiving reality they lived in, the burdensome weight of their loyalty to a kingdom that seemed to care little for the lives it toyed with. It wasn’t fair. Wyatt and Alison deserved a chance to be together, to savor love without the shadow of impending separation looming over them.

Drake had always kept his distance, refusing to take on a partner of his own. The thought of navigating the heartache and uncertainty of never seeing someone he cared for again was a burden he would not allow himself to bear. Instead, he focused on his duty, on the mission at hand. He would never question Wyatt’s strength; he admired it, even. But in moments like these, he felt the sharp edge of envy cutting deep.

"You two make the most of tonight," he called out, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "We leave early tomorrow morning. I’ll inform the men and see to Katrina." His tone was clipped, a reminder that duty awaited them all, even in the face of personal loss.

With that, he turned and made his way back to the small room he shared with Fay. She lay peacefully asleep, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm that offered him a momentary solace. But tranquility was fleeting, and as he stepped inside, Drax stood at attention, his presence a reminder of the urgency that loomed.

"We leave tomorrow," Drake said, the weight of the new orders heavy on his shoulders. "Watch Fay. I’m going to deal with the trouble from this morning." He tossed the parchment at Drax, who caught it effortlessly, a practiced ease that showed the bond they shared as comrades.

Without another word, Drake strode toward the manor, the cool night air brushing against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the moment he had just witnessed. The manor loomed ahead, its darkened windows like watchful eyes, harboring secrets and the echoes of past decisions. Each step felt like an anchor pulling him deeper into the responsibilities he loathed yet could not escape.

His mind churned with thoughts of Wyatt and Alison, the promise of love overshadowed by the specter of duty. He knew the risks ahead, the dangers that awaited them all, and he couldn't shake the feeling that their fates were tangled in a web far more complex than any of them could foresee.