Chapter 626: The Sudden Hazard (3)
Mikhailis stood motionless in the green-lit hollow, breathing as slow as a winter lizard. Phosphorescent caps ringed the clearing like muted lanterns, each one piping a gentle aurora into the darkness beneath the colossal roots. The glow painted his skin a ghostly jade, but even that eerie wash failed to hide the nervous sheen on his brow.
Across from him, a dozen elves fanned out in a silent crescent. Their bows were pale as moon-bone, their arrowheads crystalline and bright enough to catch every tremor of light. Long ears tapered to frost-thin points, and across bare forearms ran blue glyphs that pulsed with the same tempo as the rune buried under Mikhailis’s cuff. He raised his hands higher, elbows locked to show he carried nothing more lethal than his own heartbeat.
Rodion padded a step closer—fluff-furred, milk-white, round as a winter hare from a distance, yet armored beneath with honeycomb plates. Brilliant blue hexes snapped into place around the construct’s body, each tile emitting a faint hum. The elves’ bows lifted reflexively.
Steady now. No sudden gestures, Mikhailis told himself. He could almost feel the tension in the bowstrings, each one a coiled question waiting for a wrong answer.
<Identify yourself. Why here?> Rodion translated, voice low in his ear, as if it worried the echoes might spook the archers.
Mikhailis swallowed, throat dry as old parchment. Don’t babble. He bowed his head just enough to show respect without lowering his guard. "I am Prince Mikhailis Volkov," he said, tone gentle, hands still aloft. "Consort of Queen Elowen of Silvarion Thalor. I came unarmed—pure accident brought me." He dared one shallow breath. "I ask only for safe words between us."
The row of elves did not loosen a muscle. Their eyes—opalescent, reflecting faint sparks of emerald—flicked from his face to his rune. Two whispered, arrow feathers trembling. He caught only fragments of their tongue, a rolling cadence like wind across hollow reeds.
A flash of movement: one archer, nerves taut, drew fully. The crystalline head hovered at Mikhailis’s chest. His pulse hammered. If it releases, the shard will punch through me, ricochet off Rodion—if Rodion shields, maybe I’ll live...
Rodion’s plating crackled brighter as emergency shields armed. <Advising minimal movement. Reflex intercept is available but success probability only sixty-two percent.>
Comforting, he muttered in thought. Out loud he said, "Let me speak. A misunderstanding, nothing more."
Another elven voice hissed; two bowstrings tightened in nervous harmony. One wrong breath and the clearing would erupt in sapphire shards.
He shifted only his eyes, cutting them to Rodion. The construct’s glowing auric ring dipped—the AI equivalent of a nod. Together they held silence, waiting.