My younger brother Tirin was a hunter, like our late father. The unmasked joy on his face when we learned that Enduares could mate with humans was almost endearing. For a full week, he spoke of nothing else.
“You can find a wife, and we can have a family again,” he’d told me over and over.
He’d hung around corners, looking at the redheaded one who lives in our caves. He watched the queen with rapt attention, even before she accepted the charge to lead us.
And then he went and sacrificed his life for the humans.
For the chance for me to have a family in the future.
I loathe their presence, and to some extent, them. And yet… we need them—I need one to carry on my family line.
Arms crossed and frowning, I watch the human women whose cause my brother died for. A bitter flavor coats my tongue. They don’t even know who he was.
I take in dirty black hair and too-thin bodies. I watch the swell of pregnant bellies, feeling a strange churning in my gut.
Until now, I’ve mostly just worked to corral the women to safety. They are all cut and bruised after evacuating from Zlosa.
They aren’t unattractive—forhumans—but none catch my eye.
When Teo found his mate, he sensed her across space and time. She had barely entered Enduvida, and she had no crystal when their mating song started.
Now that I stand on the sideline, I wait for the same thing to happen.
And yet, all is quiet.
I feel nothing.
Frustrated, I shift my position on the tree. I must feel something—anything.
I think of my father telling us the story of choosing my mother. When he saw her, he’d known even before the mating song started.
Perhaps it will be more like the rising of the sun on the horizon rather than a lightning bolt sent to strike me down.
The women continue to move slowly, sluggishly. Their human features are too soft. They are too weak. If they were Enduar women, they would be doingsomething. Helping with the cooking, the tending, or guarding our camps.
Perhaps it is for the best that I don’t sing for one of these starving women, just as I never sang for any of the Enduar women.
I’ve always been too silent, too serious. Especially after the volcano. Once, I’d tried courting Neela only for her to laugh in my face.
And now even Neela’s mated to a human.
My lips curl.
When I see two elves carrying a heavy pack filled with leather tents, I push off the tree to help them. Unease filters through my limbs as I walk closer and grab onto the pack.
One grins at me with her strange, sharp teeth.
“Not all of you are useless then,” she says teasingly.
I ignore the elf and keep walking—she can go back to the two dozen sisters she brought with her.
After putting down the woven pack, something red moves in the corner of my eye. It’s a stark contrast to the blues, greens, browns, and blinding whites.
It’s the woman I carried back from Zlosa.
I stiffen as I take in her long, raven-black hair and smooth golden-brown skin. They’ve given her a dark cloak to cover thered dress, but it fails to cover the way her hips, soft belly, and rear curve.
My head tilts to the side as a new emotion tightens my shoulders.