And not only that… but I would be given a chance to have what I had failed at in my old life. A family.
When Joso looks at me, there are no tell-tale signs of the goddess Grutabela choosing an 'other half' for me, but the Wise Woman had explained that these things didn't have to be instantaneous.
The attention is welcome. But now is not the time for distractions.
The greatest gift the weaving mistress back in the giant capital had given me was the ability to read so I could make patterns. I was a quick learner; I’d been able to pick up the enduares’ unique form of writing easily.
I know that when I see the king, I must do my best to impress him. I will greet him with ‘Your Majesty' and use the formal versions of common phrases. Hopefully, the morning I’d dedicated to intense study would prove helpful.
Joso stops before we turn into the space before the Elven King's suite and takes my hand.
"Remember what I said when I came to retrieve you? The elvish folk can be brutal. I'm here to serve you," he reassures.
I look between him and Lord Lothar, who nods his head, and I feelsafe. A beautiful, brilliant safety that radiates from the space between my heart and lungs and fans out around my ribs. Something I’d been robbed of in my old life that was given freely here.
I push onto my toes, taking Joso’s hand, and kiss his cheek. Thetexture of enduar skin is more akin to a very fine suede than supple flesh. As our hands slide together, I can feel how the ultra-short coat is soft to the touch in one direction, while slightly abrasive in the other.
He squeezes my arm, and my breath stutters.
"I remember,” I say.
A purple blush highlights his sharp cheekbones. His face grows as luminous as the crystals dotting the ceiling of the cavern. "Thank you."
Then, I break away from both of them, curving around the hallway and catching sight of the elves. They stand taller than humans, like the enduares, but they have skin tones much more akin to my kind—an entire spectrum of black, beige, and white.
Living wood,they were called in one of the scrolls I'd read. Each has one body part carved from a massive elder tree that gifts them magic from their gods at birth, though nothing like that is visible. In fact, I’d wager it’s far too personal to display outwardly, though they didn’t seem to be ashamed of referencing this unusual practice in casual conversations.
The guards’ faces are sharp and pointed. They have elegantly angled noses, gaunt cheeks, almond eyes, and highly arched eyebrows above shining pupils in every shade. Apparently, their long fingers were impossibly adept at handling any piece of machinery the enduares allowed them to touch.
As my finely crafted shoes clack against the stone floor, the guards don’t so much as turn to look at me.
Perhaps they don’t want to risk a wrinkle in the shiny fabrics strapped around the shoulders of their leather armor.
My eyes catch on the cloth, and I think of the few samples they brought as gifts. That fabric is beautiful, more luminous than stone silk, but seemingly as tough as steel. It won’t be easy to cut through a cloth like that.
Moving into position, I dip my head.
It’s all right, Arlet. You are all right.
A voice rings through the hallway when I open my mouth to greet them and request an audience with their king.
“FIRELOCKS!”
Strong and guttural, but definitely masculine. My shoulders creep up toward my chin at the sound, and I grit my teeth, not wanting to turn back.
"Arlet!" the shout comes again.
The elven guards tighten their grips on the wooden handles of their short swords as they cast us annoyed looks.
“Forgive me. Just a moment,” I say quickly and turn to see the only unsavory part about living in enduvida.
Lord Vann, personal advisor to the Enduar King, wears a scowl as he charges toward me. I glare at the large, mountainous man with skin as blue as the cloudless sky in summer.
I can see the muscles in his forearms rippling as if he were preparing to strangle me. His silver braid flows freely behind him, and his steel-grey eyes flash as he crosses the distance with alarming speed.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing?!" he demands.
I huff up at him."Stop yelling,”I grit out. “I’m about to meet with the king. Do not ruin this.”