The Dark Elf's Secret Baby

The Dark Elf’s Secret Baby 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. Layla 2. Kerym 3. Layla 4. Kerym 5. Layla 6. Kerym 7. Layla 8. Kerym 9. Layla 10. Layla 11. Kerym 12. Kerym 13. Layla 14. Kerym 15. Layla 16. Kerym 17. Layla 18. Kerym 19. Kerym 20. Layla 21. Kerym 22. Layla 23. Kerym 24. Layla 25. Kerym 26. Layla 27. Kerym 28. Layla 29. Kerym 30. Layla 31. Kerym 32. Kerym 33. Harper Preview of Mated to the Dark Elf 34. Amelie 35. Kral Ishiraya 36. Amelie 37. 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 Layla I drop my pickaxe at the mouth of the mine as I step into the open air, the metal tip clanking against the countless pickaxes beneath it as it falls. The setting sun glances off of the snow capped tips of the mountain range around us, stars beginning to wink into existence in the sky. After a few steps forward, I reach the small stand where one of the dark elf overseers sits, taking inventory of the product we bring back to the surface from the mines. I shrug off my bag and hand it to him, watching as he rummages through it and pulls a chunk of kirialite out, his eyes glimmering as he beholds the raw stone. The dark elf gives me a curt nod before sliding a handful of tickets to me. They never give us real money, of course, as it could be used to formulate some type of escape, but these tickets are as good as currency within the camp. I grab the tickets off the table and return his nod, turning away and letting a small sigh slip through my lips as I start on my way home. Camp Horizon isn’t a bad place to be as a human, and if I’m being honest with myself, I rather enjoy the predictability of my routine. Wake at dawn, to the mines just after sunrise, work until sunset, and on the way home at twilight. The same location, same activity, and same schedule, every day but holidays. The dark elves aren’t as bad here as they are on the other continents, either. Sure, there are some who are too quick with their whip and take too much of an interest in the human women, but the vast majority are rather apathetic. My steps fall rhythmically as I walk down the path from the mines toward the village square, the footsteps of the other miners around me creating a strange, drum-like beat, accented by catches of quiet conversation. It isn’t long before the squat little cabins of the village square begin to peek into view from behind the massive tree trunks of the surrounding forest. People mill about in the loose gravel streets, moving from vendor to vendor after their work day and collecting various supplies and food for the coming week. A handful of dark elf guards lean against the walls of scattered stalls and cabins, watching with thinly veiled boredom as the humans move about. The camp is almost peaceful- at least, as peaceful as any dark elf run settlement can be. The camp is separated into different quarters, which also helps to keep the peace. The dark elves largely stay in their quarter, situated to the west of the main village square, and the humans stay in their eastern residential quarter. The mines lie to the north, and the road into Camp Horizon sits to the south, along with the warehouse where all of what we mine is stored and cataloged. I sigh, wiping my soot-covered hands across my face. No, Camp Horizon isn’t the worst place to be, but the work is hard. And I know, deep down in my bones, that I want something more. A stray, chilly breeze sweeps up the path from the village, carrying with it the decadent scent of fresh nimond bean rolls. The baker in town, Marshall, always seems to be making something with the spices he trades for with the dark elves. I half-believe he’s managed to stay out of the mines almost solely because of the confections he creates in his little kitchen. I follow my nose to his small shop, the cabin radiating heat from the ovens within and enveloping me in its sweet, yeasty scent as I cross the threshold. “I already know why you’re here,” Marshall calls teasingly over his shoulder, not even needing to turn around to know it’s me. This is another bit of my routine, although my trips to Marshall’s bakery are far less frequent than I’d like, only happening on a weekly basis. “Then it’s a wonder you aren’t more prepared,” I rib back, leaning on the counter with a small smile. Marshall clucks at me as he turns around, producing a small box tied with twine and giving me a lopsided grin. “How could I ever forget my favorite customer?” He teases as he hands me the box. I roll my eyes but give him a warm smile as I accept it, the heat radiating from the bottom of the box soothing my