The Dark Elf's Secret Son

THE DARK ELF’S SECRET SON CELESTE KING PROTHEKA PUBLISHING Copyright © 2023 by Celeste King All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Sigh up for my newsletter at https://www.subscribepage.com/celesteking Join my Facebook group here! DEDICATION This book is dedicated to Kaylee, Emily, Taylor, Jordon, Melanie, Jamie, Jennifer, Hannah, Donna and the whole “Project Protheka” family. Thanks for believing in the world. CONTENTS Books in The World of Protheka The World of Protheka 1. Sienna 2. Ris 3. Sienna 4. Ris 5. Sienna 6. Ris 7. Sienna 8. Ris 9. Sienna 10. Ris 11. Sienna 12. Ris 13. Sienna 14. Ris 15. Sienna 16. Ris 17. Sienna 18. Ris 19. Sienna 20. Ris 21. Sienna 22. Ris 23. Sienna 24. Ris 25. Sienna 26. Ris 27. Sienna 28. Ris 29. Sienna 30. Cyra Preview of Mated to the Dark Elf 31. Amelie 32. Kral Ishiraya 33. Amelie 34. Kral Ishiraya BOOKS IN THE WORLD OF PROTHEKA Orc Warriors of Protheka Series Mates of the Burning Sun Clan Series Dark Elves of Protheka Series Thoruk’s Prize: A Monster Romance Naga’s of Protheka Series Minotaur’s of Protheka Series Demon’s of Protheka Series Vampires of Protheka Gargoyles of Protheka THE WORLD OF PROTHEKA 1 SIENNA “Sienna!” I spin as I hear my name, the low hum of patrons and the buzz of the magic amplification system being tested already filling the space. I grin when I see it is not a zagfer, but one of the waitresses. “Daphne.” I vaguely know her through another friend, but she’s nice enough and tends to work the afternoons like me. “Hey, before you head in the back, there’s something waiting for you at the bar.” My eyebrows shoot up. “At the bar?” She shoots me a wink before slipping back into the crowd. I watch her go, her body mostly exposed as she leans over the patrons, but she doesn’t seem to hate it. Unlike me, I think as a shiver traveling down my spine at the thought. Le Lazurt is my favorite place in all of Vhoig, but that is only because of how much I love my job. Despite the dirty glances that the zagfer throw my way, I enjoy coming to work. I can ignore their scathing eyes as I make way across the floor. They don’t stand in the way of my position since I possess a skill few others do. I can tune and clean instruments. Any instrument without any instruction, and as such, I am valuable. And being valuable on Protheka means not having to walk around naked or spread my legs for those I don’t want to. “Good afternoon,” I squeak as I approach the human at the bar. I don’t know her name, but I do know the elf beside her, another performer who just finished his set. He doesn’t glance at me, though, and for that, I am grateful. “I believe there’s something at the bar for me?” The girl’s eyes slide over me before she reaches for something below the bar and slams her hand onto the wood. It’s a small box, and my heart stutters as I offer her a bright smile. “Thank you!” I try to keep my voice from cracking from nervous excitement, but I don’t quite manage that. With box in hand, I slip backstage and go down the little hall to the dressing rooms for the artists. I pause outside of my assigned one, popping open the box. “Oh my…” `Nestled in the center is a gorgeous emerald stone, cut into the shape of a teardrop. Gold winds around the pointed end in a spiral and connects the stone to a thin, gold chain. Unable to help the grin that blooms across my face, I push into the dressing room of the one dark elf I am assigned to. The only master I will allow. “Who has you smiling like that?” His soft lilting voice makes my stomach flutter, and I look up to see his stunning, emerald eyes on me. My heart pounds as I catch the way his eyes roam my face. I am incredibly lucky – as many often remind me – that I work for the one and only Ausdrice Rusodosh. Talented, up and coming musician best known for his solo acts on the jinrayaha and his unrivaled good looks. But to me, he is just Ris. Silly, goofy Ris who likes to turn everything into a joke or a song. I take a seat on the bench before the keys. “I think he’s trying to win me over or something.” Ris’s eyes are lit up with bright excitement. “Oh, you think he hasn’t already done that?” My heart pounds as he chuckles lightly. Everything about him is so beautiful, the way his eyes crinkle and his tinkling laughter and the way he strings his syllables together. No wonder he’s the talk of the city. “I’m awfully hard to win over, Mr. Rusodosh. You should know that by now.” The stool beneath him shifts as he stands, and I try to fight the lump that forms in my throat as he strides toward me. There’s something about the way he watches me that sets off warnings in my mind, but I ignore every one of them in favor of the thrill that rushes down my spine. He moves past me, though, and I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand. We don’t have that long before Ris has to go on, and I need to do my actual job. He is fun to be around, but I only get paid a portion of what he makes. If his instruments are out of tune, I could be docked for that. I’m working quickly at scrubbing the keys, knocking