He tuts. “Fragile things, you humans. Did they present you to me because you have exceptionally virtuous qualities? Or because you are just some sort of soft, virgin sacrifice?”
I trip over a slight inconsistency in the floor’s stone, and Arion tightens his grip, as if steadying me. I glance back at Joso and Lothar and see them glaring at King Arion with the force of a thousand suns.
And yet… they don’t speak up.
I banish the thought because I can genuinely say I understand. This isn’t about my honor. It’s about saving as many lives as possible. Though, it’s probably for the best that Lord Vann is far away.
Instead, I scramble to conjure up a response.
“I—”
Well,hostia, how was I supposed to tell him that I wasn’t a virgin? Granted, I’d only ever been with my previous partner, Daniel, but Arion is a king. He’s likely been entrenched in the narrow rhetoric of women’s importance being manifest in their purity and fertility since he was a boy.
He doesn’t know any other way. I can’t fault him for that. Especially because the enduares need allies. Having allies means having troops. Troops equal more straightforward victories. Victory will result in a heaping serving of sweet freedom for my fellow humans.
“Hmm, so quiet now. Perhaps slaves rut each other like animals in the night?” he interrupts my thoughts.
I choke on my inhale. My heart skips a beat.
Don’t get angry. It won’t solve anything.
I can survive a night of discomfort for the greater good. King Teo promised me I would not be forced into anything inappropriate. Andeven with King Arion’s massive, rude mouth spewing rotting bile, I didn’t feel unsafe, necessarily.
I smile and do something I almost never do. Lie. “King Arion, though I have never known a man, I am sad to say this isn’t a virgin sacrifice so much as a moment for you to see my people. Perhaps you will find the enduares worthy of a rekindled allyship and that will inspire you to realize us humans are worth a future that is very different from our past.”
The elf continues to smile at me. “Why do you waste so much time thinking and reading when you could be home, rearing a child?”
My heart drops into my stomach. Memories return faster than I can keep up.
A child…
I would gladly be at home with a child. Tears prick at my eyes, but I never let my smile falter.
“I have been quite busy,” I say sweetly.
He nods. “Yes. Well, are you notquiteold?”
“I’m nearly thirty. Not so old for my kind.”
He purses his lips and nods. “Thirty autumns is still considered a fresh babe for the elven folk—though I’m sure the conversion doesn’t carry. Regardless, this has been most informative.”
In the absence of a decent response, we continue to the festival in an awkward silence.
Thankfully, we emerge from the tunnel and it’s easy for the discomfort to swept away quickly. When we arrive at the ceremony, the room’s beauty takes my breath away.
The Festival of Endu unfolds before us, a breathtaking spectacle of light, jewel tones, and intricate song. Thousands of crystal lanterns, each glowing with a soft inner radiance, float above the revelers like a sea of suspended stars. Their lights refract against the cavern’s high ceiling, casting prismatic reflections onto the carved stone walls.
The massive blue focusing crystal hums, casting out the sound of the choir to another crystal at the top of the cavern, which is then projected to thousands of red, blue, and pink quartz formations along the cavern’s ceiling. The layered tunes stem from the smallgroups of singers stationed at each of the festival’s four main thoroughfares.
The people of Enduvida are alive with celebration. Dancers clad in gossamer fabric weave intricate patterns around the towering Ardorflame temple, their steps precise, their movements as fluid as water. Flames of red and gold flicker at the temple’s pinnacle, fed by a sacred molten magic that never dies.
I spot the section reserved for us to sit, but instead of guiding my ward, I pause the procession and turn to gaze at the handful of stalls that line the main avenue.
“Delicacies and crafts, Your Highness. Mostly enduar, but one of the humans has taken up a position cooking. I’m sure they would appreciate a visit,” I say briefly, gesturing behind me.
He casts me a sidelong glance that makes me squirm. King Arion seems like a man who walks through life unburdened by sentiment, unmoved by tradition, and utterly indifferent to the weight of others' expectations.
He agrees through a long breath.