“Vegetable garden also in your care.”
That didn’t sound like a question but since silence followed once again, I replied, “Yes.I assist both there and here.”
I didn’t specify that lately I’d been assigned to the flowers more often than the vegetables.With elves bringing in more humans to help with the crops and with exotic flowers requiring expert care, I had sort of undergone a work transfer.
And my mother used to say that studying botany was a recipe for unemployment.
“Look.”His tone, full of confidence that I would obey, told me this elf was used to getting what he wanted.
I lifted my gaze but didn’t dare look the high-ranking visitor straight in the face.Now I could see he wasn’t wearing the green knee-length dress of a quality control elf.No, this guy wore a long ivory dress that seemed to flow like liquid down his unusually large frame.The gold chain belt around his waist was just as exquisite.
Mr.Otherworldly Clothing extended an arm, and a longindex finger ending in a pointed nail pushed my chin all the way up.
His gentle touch startled me, but not as much as it surprised the other elves in the garden.Their shocked gasps confirmed what other captives had told me: elves found humans disgusting.Being in the presence of one was repulsive enough to them, let alone touchinga human.
I was shocked, too, now that I was truly face-to-face with the newcomer.The young elf’s broad chest was framed by well-toned arms.The deep V of his sleeveless dress’ neckline offered a tantalizing glimpse at hard pecs with small battle scars and tight abs.His smooth face was masculine, too.There wasn’t a single sign of the willowy build that all elves I’d seen so far had.Were it not for his silvery skin, pointed ears, and obsidian-black eyes devoid of pupils, I would have mistaken him for a human.
Actually, there was also his hair.Raven-black, perfectly straight, and brushing the backs of his knees, it had an ethereal look to it that no human’s could possess.It shone in the wall crystals’ light, glossy and without a single hair out of place.Delicate gold beads interwoven in his tresses completed the picture.
I couldn’t help it–I stared.And he stared right back.His light-reflecting eyes took in my chestnut springy curls, so different from elves’ straight hair.My large green eyes.My brown midi dress, secured with an iron pin over one hip, accentuating my wide hips.My bare feet covered in mud.
Those held his gaze for longer than anything else had, and I felt self-conscious.
“You seem well,” he noted, the inspection apparently over.“Yet hurt by sun.Why?”
“Umm… I don’t understand.”What on earth is he talking about?
“Your skin.Hurt.Too much sun?”
I let out a nervous laugh.A creature of fantasy found my appearance inexplicable?The irony.
Wondering how to explain my mixed heritage to an elf, I blurted out, “This is my natural complexion.Think of it not as a sunburn or good tan, but my tone always being soft brown, like a reddish brown ochre.Yes, like–like the French marigolds in this garden.”
Holy moly.Where did that description come from?No one needed those details.And there certainly wasn’t such a thing as agoodtan for elves.
With them living underground and being so fair-skinned, prolonged exposure to the sun would probably burn them pretty badly.They didn’t turn into living torches like vampires did in sunlight, but they did hide inside until nightfall.
The newcomer cocked his head.His eyes fixated me under a pair of black eyebrows and impressively long, thick lashes.“French marigolds?”
“The bicolored ones, yes,” I confirmed enthusiastically.“Yellow and red.”
His full silvery lips curved ever so slightly upward.“Gentle beauty.Remarkably resilient.”
“Yes.Adaptable, too.”I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.Not only that, but I also found myself wondering how he would look if he smiled.His overly attractive face combined with his knowledge of my favorite flowers had to be messing with my brain in my anxious state.
“You are well,” he declared.“Sabinem.”
That meantgoodin Elvish, as I had learned from the quality controlelves.
“Can you transplant flower?”
“I–I believe so.”What is this about?“But it depends on the variety, the season, the new location…” I added the last bit as a precaution.Knowing how overprotective of the flora and fauna elves were, I didn’t want to get executed over failure to transplant a flower that couldn’t possibly survive replanting.
He lifted a palm.“Good.Come.”
With those words, he headed for the exit.He stopped halfway and turned to look at me, still standing in my spot.“Fear not, come,” he repeated, this time in a more encouraging tone.
I did as asked, feeling as confused as the elves sounded when they addressed him next.If only I could understand Elvish.Whatever they told him was dismissed with a wave of his hand, and they moved out of the way.
