Page 69 of Black Sea

I rolled my eyes and began walking around the room once more.

“And it is now clear to me,” he went on, “that he is willing to do anything for you. Even offering himself to a woman he doesn’t love.”

I glared at him from over my shoulder. “Amlach is not in love with me.” I resumed looking at the titles on the bookcase I stood before, pretending my heart wasn’t pounding wildly. “He just desires me.”

“As you desire him.”

I froze, holding my breath for a moment. I suppressed the urgent need to confirm Roxior’s words, my soul’s roar exploding in my mind, and then I turned to the Master with a steely expression.

He kept smoking peacefully. “It is totally understandable. He is quite attractive, and you are”—he looked at me from head to toe, showing no hint of lewdness—“celestial.” He frowned, thoughtful. “My question is . . . Why are you working so hard to resist him?”

I could just walk away. Put an end to the dull direction this conversation had taken.

Instead, I headed for the window, letting the sun’s rays strike me with all their heat. I hugged myself, gazing at the red roofs visible beyond the ring of walls surrounding the house, without truly seeing them.

“A union between our races is forbidden,” I said solemnly.

“In the Lands of the East,” Roxior pointed out.

I knitted my brows, half turning to him.

“These are the Lands of the West, Highness.” The ghost of a smile twisted his lips. “And nothing is forbidden in Rubra.”

“We elves don’t mess around with each other while waiting to meet our soulmate, as you humans do,” I replied in an accusatory tone, thinking about Amlach’s attitude toward the young woman who had offered herself to him in the baths and then toward Mistress Yrrek.

I was quite convinced that, if he hadn’t been tied to me all this time, he would have been with every woman working in the house.

“We wait,” I continued scathingly. “And when we find them, it’s for eternity.”

Roxior gave an obliging face. “Well, the commander can’t offer you eternity, that’s for sure.” He stared at me intensely. “But he can give you a home, once I have set you free.”

I turned fully toward him, my heart pounding against my ribs so hard that it hurt. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer right away, taking long draws from his pipe. “What are fifty years for an elf?” he eventually asked me.

Nothing. A blink of an eye.

Roxior gave me a meaningful look. “You might choose to stay in Rubra. With the commander. You might have a family and be happy for the time that the gods will give you. And when his time comes, you will return to the Kingdom of the Elves with your children.”

Family. Happiness. Children.

My thoughts danced around these three words until they conjured images of daily life so vivid that they felt painfully real.

I had abandoned the thought of starting a family two thousand years ago. I accepted that I would never experience true happiness, the kind I always saw shining on my parents’ faces, or in Araton and Serie’s eyes.

I had abandoned the dream of becoming a mother.

And now . . . now the flame of hope was kindled within me. A hope that meant going against the laws of my people. A hope that meant disappointing my father, my subjects.

A hope that I couldn’t nip in the bud.

A hope that began to obsess me.

Roxior’s smile grew more pronounced; he was aware of the inner turmoil he had stirred within me. “Think about it,” he said, dismissing me.

As if I were in a trance, I started toward the door.

“By the way . . .” The man waited for me to stop and turn back to him. “You should know that after deciding to become Yrrek’s lover or go with anyone else who requests his services for the night, the commander has threatened to cut my throat in my sleep if I allow any of the other Masters to buy your company.” His eyes narrowed, and I sensed a barely noticeable fear in his voice when he added, “And he was very convincing.”