Page 100 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

“The fae were strong too,” Gunnar said. “But … we were useless against those shadows.”

“Or the light,” Kolfinna chimed in.

Gunnar frowned. “That too.”

Blár scooped Kolfinna in his arms and stood up effortlessly. A whimper escaped from her mouth even as she tried to hide her pain. No matter how much he tried to be gentle, every movement made her shoulder feel like he was snapping it in half.

“What do you think their objective was?” Gunnar asked.

Kolfinna closed her eyes. “I think they came to rescue the elf woman.”

Even with her eyes closed, she could feel their eyes on her.

“But then why did they try to take you?” Blár asked.

“I don’t know,” she lied. She couldn’t hold back the tears that prickled her eyes. Through the tears and the pain, she could make out Blár’s and Gunnar’s confused expressions. “I don’t know.”

22

The damage doneto the fort by the half-elf warriors was worse than Kolfinna could’ve imagined.

The walls were riddled with holes and partially crumbled in certain sections, many soldiers were injured, and there were clearly more human casualties than the fae or elves. In fact, the fae and elves had been outnumbered, but they still managed to keep their causalities down and accomplish their goal—which was likely to free Rakel.

Kolfinna turned her face away from the corpse of a human soldier who was pinned to the wall with a sword in his chest—and by the looks of the lion-head pommel, it was his own sword, which only made her wonder what kind of battle he endured for the enemy to steal his sword and imbed it into his chest. She didn’t stare too long at his pallid, blood-splattered face because she didn’t want to recognized him. She did the same with the other causalities, barely giving them more than a glance.

Blár’s strong arms tightened around her, and the momentary embrace made her shoulder stiffen in protest. She squeezed her eyes shut; focusing on the pain than on the corpses that lay in wake after the battle was easier.

“Those white-haired bastards are elves, right?” Blár’s voice was harsh as he stepped over a blackened, soot-stained chunk of stone that had once belonged to the ceiling.

Kolfinna kept her eyes closed. “Yes.”

She wasn’t healing. She could tell that much by the way the scrapes on her hands and knees—which usually healed fast—were still present. It confirmed her theory that healing required mana, and now that she was drained, her body wasn’t healing itself.

She really hoped she wasn’t stuck with these injuries for too long.

“I can’t believe they were gutsy enough to attack a fortress,” Blár said with a deep frown.

“I can’t believe a lot of things,” she muttered.

Like the wings.

They were her enemies, but she could sit and marvel at their wings all day. Her back felt even more sensitive as she thought about her own wings that had been clipped from her when she was younger. Too young to remember anything, and yet there was a longing to be in the air like they had.

But then she also remembered how she had plummeted through the sky, and she quickly pushed that thought aside.

Blár kicked down the door to one of the rooms and peeked inside. It was someone’s bedroom. Half the wall was missing and broken, with stony shards littering the bed and the floors. The cool night air breezed into the room, made even colder by Blár’s presence.

He sauntered inside like it was his own room and carefully placed her on the edge of the bed, then dusted off the remaining pebbles and stony debris off the duvet.

“Thanks,” Kolfinna mumbled, glancing at the tattered room. Blood was streaked across one of the walls, indicating thatsomeone had fought in here at some point. “How are the others?”

“I passed by Herja a little earlier and didn’t notice any big injuries. Ivar, Inkeri, and Eluf are alive too, if that’s what you’re asking. A bit shocked and banged up, but otherwise fine.”

“That’s a relief,” she whispered. And it truly was; she hadn’t realized how close the little group had gotten to her heart until the prospect of them dying crossed her mind and wrenched her gut.

“I’ll get some?—”

Blár couldn’t finish his sentence because Joran barreled into the room.

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