Page 131 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

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A deep coldness awoke her,like the embrace of a wintry death that wouldn’t let her slip away.

When Kolfinna blinked, she was surrounded by darkness. There was a single barred window in the cramped, dark, tiny room, and water dripped down the walls in thin rivulets. For a moment, fear seized her and she thought Hilda had gotten to her again, and that she was locked away in another torture room, but then reality slowly sank in and the last moments she remembered came to her.

Her hands flew to her face. She didn’t feel any crusted blood. Had someone washed her?

A quick glance at her wrist revealed that the rune mark was gone. A cold sweat dampened her body at the sight of it. Sijur was probably dead. She had wanted so badly to rid herself of it, but now that it was gone … She realized she had other problems to worry about.

Was that why she was still alive? Because the half-elf had killed Sijur? Or had he ordered Sijur to unbind her? The former seemed to be an easier option.

Kolfinna gingerly sat up. Tears stung her eyes.

They hadlost.

She had been stripped of her armor and chainmail, and only wore her worn-out gray uniform. The entire front of her shirt was darkened and stiffened with blood and when her weak, trembling fingers undid the last few buttons to inspect her injuries—particularly the abdomen wound—she saw the thickened scar tissue on her chest. Her scar was pale pink—fresh. With how little mana she had during the end of the battle, and with how battered her body had been, how had she healed herself?

She already knew the answer. Of course the half-elf would heal her. Either with rune magic or whatever strange elf magic he had because he needed her alive.

A strangled cough jerked her away from her thoughts. Her heart raced and she swiveled her attention toward the noise—a man on the floor a few feet away from her. She had been so caught up with her own thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed him.

His wrists and feet were bound with shadowy, smoke magic. The skin of his wrists was raw and burned by the shadows, and even with all the blood and grime coating him, Kolfinna recognized Blár.

Her relief rushed over her like a flood, and she lurched forward so quickly she fell on her knees. “Blár!”

Blár groaned in pain, his eyes slowly peeling open. She scrambled on her knees in front of him and didn’t know where to touch him. His arm was very clearly broken by the way it was twisted, his face was a map of bruises, cuts and blood stains, and the rest of his body didn’t look any better.

She couldn’t hold back her tears as she brought a shaking hand to his face. She brushed his hair back and choked down a sob. “Oh, Blár.”

“Kolfinna?” He blinked up at her, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Is that you?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me.” She brushed back his hair and her fingers skimmed over his bruised and broken skin. It was a miracle he was awake, or evenalive.

Blár coughed, and speckles of blood dotted the floor. Her eyes had adjusted enough to make out these details.

“Where are we?” he whispered.

“I think … the fortress?” Kolfinna pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the window. Sure enough, she could make out the remnants of the battlefield beyond the barred window. She quickly looked away from the macabre scene—the upturned stones and the bloodied bodies everywhere.

Her whole body began to shake.They had lost.

Now it was only a matter of time before?—

She didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m sorry,” Blár said. He was staring up at the ceiling, his expression wracked with guilt, anger, and helplessness. The vulnerability made something in her chest crack, and she wanted to rush over and embrace him tightly. “I couldn’t save you.”

“Don’t say that.” Kolfinna sank to the floor beside him, her voice thick with emotion. “There’s still hope so long as you’re alive.”

If there was someone who could change the tides of war, it was Blár.

He was the most powerful person she knew?—

And yet the half-elf defeated him.

She cast that thought away and placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Blár closed his eyes and let out a shuddered breath. “I couldn’t beat him. The man with the black helmet and the red eyes. All the wounds I inflicted kept healing, meanwhile my wounds …” He hissed in pain when he moved his shoulder. That slight movement made his whole body tense up. Being boundlike this didn’t help. Blár exhaled raggedly. “I don’t think he’s simply an elf. He had fae powers.”

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