Page 97 of The Orc Warrioress and the Elf Lord

Iahir licked his lips again. “I don’t think for the better.”

“Well, that is all a lie, I think, this idea of anything getting better. Things get different. Suffering shifts around. We Valaedor elves have evaded suffering for some time. Now, it will be our lot to bear it for a time. Overall, I don’t think things really get better.” He tilted his head to one side. “Well, I cannot truly think that. One cannot be a visionary and really believe it’s all pointless. Things must get better, mustn’t they?” His smile was wide and sunny, but he wasn’t looking at Iahir.

Perhaps his father was mad.

His father focused on him again. “You have not answered my question. Why did you do it?”

“I wanted you to meet me and talk in a sitting room instead of standing behind you while you sorted through the guts of some poor sod in your laboratory, I think,” said Iahir.

His father blinked at him.

“Imagine that, thinking your attention mattered.” Iahir stood up. “What a child I have been.” He started across the room to the door.

“Wait,” said his father.

Iahir turned to look at him.

“You’re not wrong. I have neglected you,” said his father. “And to the detriment of everything, for it is now quite obvious I will never prevail against whatever afflicts your mother. I will not have the resources nor the freedom, not in the world that we are moving swiftly towards.”

“You’re not angry with me for having done it?”

“I’ve never been angry with you,” said his father with a shrug. “I suppose if I’ve seemed angry, it’s only been… well, I wanted to solve it.” He rubbed his chin. “Anything getting in the way of solving the problem has been an annoyance. I suppose that has encompassed you. I am sorry.”

Iahir heard it, and he could tell his father was sincere, and it was maddening how it meant nothing, how it changed nothing, how he thought that hearing it would be something, and it was nothing. He let out a little pained gasp.

“You must go, of course,” said his father. “They know it was you, and they are angry, and they want someone to blame. They will hurt you if they find you. Maybe they’ll just string you up from a tree, but I rather imagine it will be worse. You must go far, far away, and you must not come back, not until things have settled, and that could be… years, really.”

“But then what becomes of you?” said Iahir. “What becomes of Mother, of Adalir?” That was his brother.

“I am not dead,” said his father. “I am here, and I am the evivtain, and the orcs are running quickly out of ammunition and supplies and everything else they need. They are disorganized and fueled entirely by rage. They have no idea how to negotiate. So, that part will be over soon, and it will be elves back in charge. But everything will be madness, still, and things will—” His father waved a hand at this. “I am getting off topic. The point is, all I have to do is to retain enough servants to hold the castle. I can well do that.”

“Can you?” said Iahir.

“Well, better than you, when the servants find out that you killed the High King,” said his father. “You know they loved him better than we did.”

It was true that the servants did seem to find Findas to be some sort of champion of the poor and downtrodden, some sort of folk hero.

His father scratched the top of his head again. “Oh, convince me you can, my boy. Convince me that you can take over and I can go back to my laboratory and get back to work. Convince me?”

Iahir shook his head. “You know I cannot.”

“Furthermore, you don’t want it,” said his father. “You have spent all your time looking at all of it sideways, have you not? You have broken all the rules as a matter of course, which means that you have seen all the seams that hold things together, and you see that the rules aren’t real and the seams are weak and straining.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You have an orc woman in your town house, is that true?”

“I am utterly surprised you are paying so much attention to all this gossip.”

“I always paid attention, my boy. I always had to know things. But there was no reason to waste time discussing things with you. I had more important things to do, things to think about.”

“Your vision.” The words twisted in Iahir’s mouth.

“You thought me foolish,” said his father. “Everyone did. I told myself it didn’t matter and that I would show them all. But I don’t think I shall anymore. About the orc woman? That’s true?”

Iahir nodded. “Indeed.”

“Oh, by the rosy fingers of the dawn, this rebellious streak of yours—”

“I won’t hear it,” said Iahir. “You likely shouldn’t have married my mother, knowing she was… Gathren is at least in charge of her mental facilities.”

“My boy, we don’t choose who we love.”