Pasil nodded, hugged me to his side, and bumped the door shut with his hip. “You will grow to love him as I do. I know it!”
I doubted I would love him as Pasil did, but I smiled meekly as the door closed. A long night lay ahead…
Being a scout and a novice shade, I was adept at sneaking.
Also, I had spent my youth stealing food or anything else that would fit in my grubby pockets, so my step was light most times. Tonight was no exception. After a meal fit for the king’s court with ample Sandrayan wine, I stepped out the back door to breathe in some fresh air. The ambassador had a fondness for fragrant oils. The tidy house was rich with scents billowing out of small, heated oil lamps. Rich, exotic aromas that surely came from the Black Sand Isles, for I had never sniffed most of them before, and I was well schooled in the mainland flora. The smells were overpowering to me, or perhaps it was the sight of Teryn and Pasil being intimate that crept into my head, making it ache.
They did nothing too lewd. They just touched. A lot. They gave each other small, chaste kisses. A lot. They whispered things into each other’s ears. A lot. Even with Tezen in attendance, the meal was difficult. Silly of me, I know, to be so petty. Pasil had never once intimated he felt anything for me other than brotherly friendship. It was I who had fantasized about us being more than we were. Once the cork on the fire brandy had been popped, I had begun easing to the door. Every shot got me closer to freedom. I waved off the offers to partake, saying I had an early call to ride on the morrow. That was no lie. Iwouldbe sitting on a hitching post waiting for those cursed dwarves when they arrived. Then they would see me as more than a frail elf with ginger root locks.
As soon as my boots hit the back stairs, I eased the door shut and sat on the lowest of four steps. The grounds of the farm were well-tended, with beds packed with flowers. From a thick clump of yellow-tipped sun thorn—a plant whose leaveswere used for easing stomach ailments—came a spotted cat. It padded over to me, amber eyes aglow in the night, and sat looking up at me as cats do, staring.
Good eve, most respected feline. I had learned long ago that when an elf spoke to a cat—no matter its size—opening up with a line expressing you knew they were better than you always played well.How may I address you? Queen or king?
Its whiskers twitched.
Queen Pehdra. I have moused. I ate many today.
That is wondrous news. I am sure your human servant is well pleased.
He is. I brought him a mole. It lies in his sandal. I am a mouser.
Oh. How generous of you, Queen Pehdra.
She lifted a paw to lick it as the door creaked open behind us, allowing a sliver of light to fall over the cat. Pehdra darted inside as Teryn eased down to sit beside me with a sigh. I felt tension creep into me, then felt bad for feeling this way over a kind elf who had opened his home to me, fed me well, and shared his wine.
“Did I interrupt a conversation with my cat?” he asked, folding his robes around his thighs, exposing dark knees, calves, and bare feet to the night.
“She is quite the mouser she informs me. Also, you should check your sandals for moles,” I replied, sight locked on his naked legs. The Sandrayans were not as choked as the followers of Ihdos when it came to displays of flesh. Much like the wood elves in that regard. He had long toes with brightly painted nails.
He sighed dramatically. “The little imp loves to leave me gifts such as moles with no heads, small hares with no heads,and dead birds also with no heads. Always in my sandals. Tell me, why is it that cats do that?”
“Oh, uhm, well, I suspect they enjoy the brains. I’ve not asked a cat, so this is just my guess. Organ meats are favored by predators. As for why she places the corpses in your sandals, it may be she thinks your sandals are safe places to store her kill for later. The forest cats of the Verboten are known to haul their kills into trees to keep them from canines. Or perhaps she views you as a member of her clowder and wishes to gift you some food, as she might her kittens. Mayhap she feels you are a poor hunter and is trying to either teach you or ensure you do not die of starvation. I would have to speak to her to discover her exact reasoning. Would you like me to do so?”
“No, no, I am sure she feels I am a lackluster hunter,” he said and chuckled, lifting his sight to the stars and the twin moons, which were now two slim slivers in the inky sky. “Having the gift of beast speak must be glorious indeed. I have always wished I had those magicks.”
“But you are a high-ranking druidic practicer.” I glanced at the charms dangling from the tip of his ear, charms reflecting the beasts he could change into. “I have heard you are so well gifted that you have three forms of beast, whereas even the highest mainland druids, such as Archdruid Beirich, only have one form.”
“True, but one is not inherently better than the other. We simply differ, but to speak with the creatures of the world…what a marvelous thing that must be! You are truly blessed. Your mother had the gifts of the wild, I take it, for your sire had none, correct?” Ah, so he knew who my father was. Not a surprise. A high-ranking official such as Mahouk Nouradi would know everything about me. So his asking about my mother was mere politeness.
“She did, or so I was told. She left the bandit camps when I was but a young child, just walking, and never returned. My grandmother told me my father drove her off with his abusive fists. Why she ran and left me, I cannot say, nor do I care.” I did care—a great deal. It made me sickly sad when I dwelled on it, so I did my best not to wallow in the past. There was no changing it. What had been done had been done. “She had red hair and green eyes like I do,” I tacked on for some stupid reason before falling silent. A trait I learned at my father’s hand. A quiet boy was a boy left alone. A loud boy got whipped. So I took to sneaking about like a wraith as a little elf with big red hair that set my father off when he was in his cups.
“An attractive trait to pass on,” he said, stretching out his legs to wiggle his painted toes. “I do not think I have seen an elf with such vibrant scarlet hair before.”
“Yes, that comment is made daily.” I sighed, looking from his toes to the sky. A bat swooped down low, its calls making me wince slightly before I could block them out as I had the cows and goats in the nearby barns. “I have not seen a man with painted toes before.”
He snickered and wiggled his toes even harder. “Yes, that comment is made daily.” I snorted with amusement. Two inebriated voices floated out the window, joined in a ribald song about a milkmaid, a gooseherd, and a bard. Teryn laughed softly. “Pasil and Tezen have had several cups of fire brandy. I am not sure what the dwarves put in their brandy to make it so potent, but both will have sore heads come morning.”
“Tezen drinks more than I do and holds it better. A feat that constantly leaves me in wonder, as she is no bigger than a finch while I am an elf grown,” I added, smiling as I recalled the last time I had drunk with the pixie princess. I had passed out in a pub and awoke sleeping with two fat hogs in a pigpen down the street. How I got in the hog pen, I had no recollection, butTezen tells a story about me dancing down the lane and having a sexy conversation with the two fat sows. I feel she invented the smutty talk with the sows, but perhaps not…
“She is a happy soul. I have enjoyed having you and her here for a meal. When you return from your current mission, we shall have to do it again.”
I wanted to groan but nodded instead, blowing a wild strand of long ginger hair from my face. It needed to be cut, but it would have to wait. I could tie it back for the trip.
“Yes, that would be nice.” The words were lame even to my ears. A loud crash inside followed by raucous laughter rolled out the open windows.
“That sounds like someone who has not imbibed dwarven gut rot should step in and escort someone to bed.” He turned to give me his full attention. Eyes as gold as his cat’s met mine. “Know I love Pasil deeply, and I shall always do my best to ensure he is happy. I know how much he means to you.”
My eyes flared. Shitty balls, as Tezen would say. He knew. He knew I had fancied Pasil. “Good,” I croaked out, shame making my face hot. He gave my knee a gentle pat before rising, robes furling down to cover his calves. “He is a dear friend.”
“I know. He speaks of you hourly, it seems. You and his cousin are valued confidantes, as is Tezen.” A crash of glass this time, followed by hoots of giggles. “Although you are far less prone to break my imported vases than the pixie. If you are heading home, ride with care and return to us safely, my friend.” He squeezed my shoulder before going back inside, the door closing softly as I stared at the iron hinges for a long, long moment. What a kind man Teryn was to call me friend even when he knew I was tangled into a knot over his being the love of Pasil’s life. What a shallow little shit I was. Rising, I hurried to the stable to get my horse from his stall. I needed to feel the air in my face to help blow away my petty jealousies.
