“We have slightly longer lifespans than humans, but we are not immortal. About two to three hundred years,” he explains, not elaborating further.
“So… how old are you?” I ask curiously.
“Thirty-four,” Wrath replies. “I think you reading ancient Elvarran texts counts as snooping, Princess.”
“What are you going to do? Lock me in the dungeon?” I taunt, returning the book to the dais.
“I’m considering it.” Wrath’s eyes glint with amusement.
I continue to mock him, making a sweeping gesture. “Ihereby sentence you to the crime of reading! Head on a pike, immediately!”
“That’s a great idea,” he says smugly.
Wrath takes a step closer to me. The space between us closes. I feel the brush of his magic against my skin once more, my mark tingling in response. Something shifts as the air charges with a surge of magnetism. When I’m around him, every breath feels sharper—as if the world is amplified tenfold.
“I can only read one book so many times before growing bored,” I reply sweetly, tilting my head to look up at him.
“How many times have you read The Warlord Chronicles?” Wrath asks curiously.
I shrug. “Hundreds?”
“Hundreds?” Wrath repeats, his interest piqued. “What’s your favorite part?”
“Understand yourself. Understand your foe. For the enemy of my enemy may become my ally.” I quote the book perfectly.
“Trust in this truth, and you may find unexpected strength in unlikely places,” we say in unison. “The sharpest blade is wielded not by a steady hand, but with cunning, patience, and wisdom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
I am woefullyunprepared for how vast Lunithia is. Nearly every street in Khalessor is teeming with life. Everywhere I look, I see Elvarrans drinking, chatting, and dancing in the streets, all of them exuding merriment. Small children run past me, carrying small sticks that sparkle on the ends. The smell—gods, it is divine, the air carrying the scent of rich spices and wine.
Rowena walks beside me, arm looped through mine as we enter the festival. Her black hair is styled in a half-updo, a golden crystal pin sticking from the back, catching the light like dewdrops on leaves. The rest of her long hair cascades down with loose, small strands framing her face. She wears a forest green gown adorned with simple pearls, the patterns weaving up the sleeves like intricate vines.
At Rowena’s request, I wear a sapphire-blue gown with silver stars embroidered into the fabric. The silky fabric is smooth against my skin, the bodice hugging my curves snugly. With each step I take, the skirt sways like tree branches in the breeze. The lower neckline is different from what I’m used to wearing, but it feels modish.
“It’s so enchanting,” I tell her, unable to focus on one thing for very long.
“We must make an offering at the Eldertree,” Rowena starts. “It’s an Elvarran tradition to honor the earth that gives us our magic,” she adds. “We will get many glasses of wine and drink until we're fuddled. After that, we will cast our gazes among the fine men of Khalessor.”
“Are you married, Ro?” I ask, recalling that she’s never mentioned a husband.
“I am not.” She sighs in relief. “My mother is a tyrant, demanding that I give her grandchildren, as it is my duty as their only child. Wrath has been hiding me here in Khalessor for four years now, helping me avoid my mother's fury. Being away from my parents has allowed me to pursue my passion for sewing.”
“I understand completely.” I frown, knowing what it feels like. To face your parents’ scorn for not obeying they’re every command. A pit forms in my stomach every time I think about what my life in Avelisar would have been like, a fate I am happy to have escaped.
“If you see any vendor selling crystal candies, we must stop to try some,” she insists. “We can play a game of Mystic Runes.”
“A game of what?”
“It’s a card game,” Rowena says, her tone exasperated. “Honestly, Raelys, do the humans doanythingfun in Cathros?”
“Plenty.” I smile. “I grew up playing a game with a mallet and ball… but I don’t remember the name.”
“We have that as well!” She pulls me down a road. “This way!”
Rowena points to a large tree in the distance. Its branches are so tall they touch the clouds, casting a large canopy over the town. The leaves are bright green and pointed, branchesrustling softly in the breeze. The closer we get to the tree, the more I can feel it radiating magic from the twisted roots that burrow deep into the earth.
“That’s the Eldertree?” I ask, tilting my head back to take in its majesty.
