"He? Who ishein this context? And I agree with you, there definitely seems to be something in the air."
Once the dishes were cleared away, Ainsley rinsed and loaded the dishwasher as his mother retrieved a set of colorful, cut crystal cordial glasses, the three of them sat once more. The liquor his mother produced was strong, a fortified licorice-flavored spirit that was perhaps even stronger than Elvish mirúlvin.
"The dúathe ranka. That's what he was called when I was growing up. A dark shadow from the land of the dead, who brings darkness and death to our side of the veil every year. He rides through the world on a black horse, pulling the first breath of frost behind him, until he takes his seat on the throne beside the queen of the dead."
Ris straightened up in her chair. "I think we have a similar story. In our version, he pulls the night behind him until the whole world is covered in darkness. And we say he’s from the land of the undying, not the dead. And then in the spring, another rider sets out to pull the sun out of the shadows and brings light back to the world."
Shu'la nodded. “This is the time of year when he's closest. The witches say the veil between our world and the Otherworld gets thin, and the death he brings infects our thoughts."
Ris swallowed hard. She thought of her own grains of sand, of Lurielle's book.Memento mori.
"We don't age the way the old ones used to," she began abruptly. "Elves used to live hundreds of years. We would still be babies at eighty years old. We were favored consorts of the high fae because of it."
"Oh, fuck me, is this going to be another turkey claw story?"
Shu’la shushed her son as Ris laughed.
"Anyway . . . then we started mating with humans and trolls and other species with short lifespans.Like orcs.So our lifespan began to shrink as well, with each successive generation. I don't know exactly where it happened in our history, because it's not something that anyone is willing to talk about, but our males started to go sterile somewhere along the line. Probably because there was a lot of consanguinity happening. Elves like to stick together in their closed communities. Just like orcs," she added pointedly for Ainsley's benefit.
He threw up his hands in what had become an extremely familiar gesture. “I know, I know. Like looking in a mirror.”
"Yup. So anyway, that definitely didn't help. Birth rates began to plummet. The high fae had kicked us out of bed centuries earlier, and they had all retreated behind the veil, so it didn't make a difference anyway, by then. The babies whodidmanage to be born were overwhelmingly female, and that's a trend that continues to this day. Not only are our males largely shooting blanks, but they die earlier than female elves. Okay, wait . . . I forgot what the question was."
On the other side of the table, Ainsley shook his head as if he were a disappointed professor.
His mother only laughed. "That's okay, because this is all fascinating. I had no idea your menfolk were sterile."
"Neither do most young Elvish women," Ris laughed with no small amount of bitterness. "We are indoctrinated in school, like, earlier than appropriate. Way earlier. We've been told from the time we’re little girls that the most important thing we can do for our community is to have an Elvish baby. Most of us don't even understand where babies come from at that point, but we're already being told that's our goal in life." She paused, considering. "Most of us figure it out eventually. But sometimes it makes me wonder . . . like, our schools are overwhelmingly run by our females.Weare the ones perpetuating this myth to impressionable little girls. And I wonder if it's because we don't want to be left alone in our jubilation years. Because our menfolk die so much earlier . . . Having your own little girl is the only way to make sure you're not alone."
"The aging process." Ainsley's voice was low, getting her back on track.
Ris nodded, clearing her throat. "Right. Again, it's just not something talked about. Not nearly enough. Basically, everything starts to get . . . slow." She chuckled, shrugging a bit."I know that's a terrible explanation, but that's what it's like. Everything just starts to slow down. Weeks go by and it feels like a handful of days. Six months can pass in the blink of an eye. Everyone around you just starts to seem so . . . I don't know, frantic. I think that's another reason why elves keep to themselves so tightly. Because it just becomes hard, you know? It's hard to relate to these time-pressed issues of your friends and coworkers. One day you're out having fun with your friends, and in the next you can't understand why they're rushing for these promotions at work and pushing to reach milestones and it all seems so small. That's one of the reasons why we're all so close with our mothers. Because we're the ones left after everyone else you know is gone. Anyway . . ."
She trailed off, her throat feeling tight. Her face still felt hot. She didn't like contemplating these things. It only ever increased her suppositions that maybe sheshouldjoin the club at Cevanorë
Ainsley and his mother were both leaning forward in their chairs, listening with bated breath. Ris smiled softly, able to understand precisely where his inquisitive nature and zeal for anthropology had been learned.At least he comes by all of it honestly.
"That's fascinating," Shula murmured. "I wonder when that starts. Is it only in the later middle age that you —"
"I can already feel it," she blurted once more., silencing both orcs
Heat moved up her ears and across her face. Ris was certain they would be able to fry an egg on her forehead for as hot as she felt. "Just in the last year or two. And it's not extreme or anything, but . . . I can definitely feel it. Like I'm underwater some days, and everyone around me is justracing. You start to think of other folks in your life in terms of years. I'm not going to pretend that it's not a mindfuck."
She managed to keep her emotions completely under control, at least until they left.See, this is why it’s best not to have a serious relationship.Luielle and Silva were, in her private opinion, chumps for the hoops they made themselves jump through.
Ainsley's mother hugged her tightly before they'd reached the door, gripping Ris's face in her larger hands. "Thank you for sharing some of your slowness with him. It's good for him, I can tell."
She wished she could add a hundred more grains of sand to his life, to double the size of his vial, to fill it to the brim . . . but she couldn’t. Her eyes welled with tears, nodding, not trusting her voice for a moment. "Thank you for raising him to be such a good one."
When they were back in his apartment that evening, he considered her as he slipped off his shirt. "You never told me that. Thatthat'shappening to you. The slowness thing, or whatever. If I move in slow motion, does it look normal to you?" He pantomimed moving through the room with exaggerated motions, pinwheeling his arms as if he were doing a backstroke, everything at half speed. "Hiiiiiii Riiiiiiiiis," he said slowly, ridiculously, until she was obliged to throw her own shirt at his head.
"You're an idiot. I didn't say anything, because what difference does it make? It's not like it's something we can change. This is one of the reasons why I'm not interested in a big, serious, label-filled commitment with anyone. Like you said, that's just something for other people.”
The rest of the evening was on auto-pilot. Plans for the next morning, clothes pulled out, something prepped for dinner. It had been a nice day. She loved his mom, understood him so much better, after seeing where he'd come from, how he wasraised, what his foundation had looked like.He really is one of the good ones.
When she tucked against him in bed a short while later, pressing her cheek to his chest, right above his heartbeat, as she scratched his stomach, Ris tried to ignore the fact that since they’d arrived home, it had been the quietest evening spent in his company since the night they met.
Lurielle
