Chapter Three
Cursing at her uncharacteristic clumsiness, Eira looked up. And up. And up.
She was not used to feeling small; right now, she did.
It turn out the form had belonged to a man, who stood a good foot above her frame. She took in his features – the strong jaw, the delicate mouth, the forest green eyes and more notably, the long ears.
Not a man, then. An elf.
That did make things marginally better; elves hated her kind, like every other breed of mortals, but she tolerated them more than humans.
They lived longer, for one.
“Careful,” he told her, his smooth, deep voice pleasant, as elves’ generally were, but she could tell, by the expression his face bore, that he’d meant it to be harsh. “Don't make a noise and move this way.”
His eyes were fixed on the poor thirsty bear; Eira might have laughed, if he hadn't been right to fear him. Bears were dangerous.
To anyone who wasn't her, that is.
Eira surprised herself by obeying, letting the hand he'd pushed against her back guide her away.
Soon, they reached the path she was supposed to follow north, but he tried to lead her south; that, she protested against.
“Thank you,” she said politely, hoping against all hope that she'd gone for the right tongue. As his frown didn't deepen, she guessed she had. “But I'm heading that way.”
She gave the general direction of her home, and the elf laughed humorlessly.
“There's nothing, that way.”
She shrugged.
“That's what those who don't care to seek answers say to those who discover wonders.”
“An explorer, then?” He hazarded. “Well, I can believe that. Somehow, I doubt they'd send a spy who looked like you.”
Eira wondered how she looked.
She was well aware of her physical features, but they were perceived differently every time she awoke.
In her youth, she'd been ordinary, quite plain, in comparison to the likes of Aphrodite, Medusa, Frejya and Persephone.
When the other gods were gone, she'd been intimidating; too tall, too graceful, too quick and quiet. Five centuries after, waking from her first long nap, they'd called her a demon; then she'd become a painter’s muse.
She didn't change – hadn't since her first century. Her hair was dark ash, her eyes icy blue. Her skin wasn't pale, ironically; she looked sunkissed, unless she used too much of her power in one go. Then, everything went white, from head to toes.
She glanced at him, trying to determine whether he seemed repulsed, intimidated or attracted, but she saw nothing. The elf was still frowning, trying to make her out, however past his puzzlement, she had no idea what he thought of her.
Perhaps she was ordinary, then?
She was occupying herself with those conjectures when his eyes fell on her ears. He swore out loud.
“You're human,” he assumed – erroneously. “You must be freezing.”
And before letting her answer, he'd removed his own coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Her denial fell flat on her lips as the warmth spread through her iced up bones. The material was delightfully warm and smelt tantalizing – pine and musk, mixed with something she couldn't put her finger on. She liked it, though.
The elf was now wearing a long dark jumper held at his waist by a belt fitted with a dagger, and heavy black boots; a million times more practical than the shoes she'd been given by Belle, who, to be fair, had probably not imagined she'd be climbing up mountains.
“I cannot keep this. You'll be cold.”
And cold could harm him; it did nothing to her.
“I'll get another one,” the male shrugged. “Where are you headed? If you were looking for Virvolla, it’s miles south.”
He must have referred to the fortified city she'd passed before entering her lands.
“I'm going up.”
“You're not dressed or equipped for going up,” he protested impatiently.
Eira scrutinized his eyes, trying to read what would make him let her go.
And nothing.
The elf was shielded, which made him exquisitely interesting.
Eira recognized a kindred soul: like her, he was controlling his mind, making himself indifferent to the world.
Enough, she admonished herself. She couldn’t afford to be engrossed by handsome mortals.
“I'll be fine,” she told him in Truth; like every creature alive, he understood the language. No one had to learn it to comprehend it.
“Alright, then. Just be cautious.”
Eira’s eyes followed the elf as he walked away. When she caught him turning back towards her, she gave him a faint smile, wondering whether he’d be alive the next time she awoke.
Probably not.
It wasn’t the first time Kai wondered if he should get it over with and fuck the girl, already. She certainly was asking for it.
When he’d returned from the woods, she’d been in his cabin, lying down on his bed, pretending to have been concerned about him; then, apparently, she’d fallen asleep while waiting for him.
He’d gotten rid of her before turning in for an early night.
He knew he’d have to take her, eventually. Gerda was the strongest, and perhaps the fairest female in his clan. She also happened to be the only one who was old enough for him; there was something disturbing about envisaging the idea of bedding someone who, a few years back, had worn nappies, when he’d already been an adult with responsibilities.
Gerda had grown up with him. She knew him, she’d even seen glimpses of the darkness he held within, and yet, she wanted him.
This particular fact, which should have appealed to him, disgusted him. He knew why she could overlook the flaws in his character; she sought to become the leader’s companion, nothing more.
“She isn’t that bad, Kai.”
He turned to old Fyn, the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother, and lifted one eyebrow.
“Let’s rephrase that. Regardless of how you might feel about her, you need an heir. Take any girl, every girl if you must.”
He chuckled, as per usual refreshed by her sincerity.
“Maybe I’m not into any girl here,” he said, his mind unconsciously returning to the strange, annoyingly unprepared human he’d met in the wood.
If it had been her and not Gerda spread out on his bed, he might have had an heir on the way by now.
That idea was disturbing, to say the least.
Kai was a responsible sort of guy; he didn’t fuck around with his subjects – because he knew none of them appealed to him past the physical attraction. That meant his intercourses were limited to humans, during his trips into town, when he got supplies.
He was hardly celibate; the humans loved what he looked like, and he definitely liked the way they bounced on his lap, but he’d never, ever considered breeding with one of them, before.
There were too few elves left alive to think of it.
Yet here he was, definitely considering it.
What did it matter if the child he bore was half human? The elven genes were dominants anyway; there would be no difference whatsoever. He could have taken her, filling her with his seed and kept her bound to his bed until her belly was swelling with his child.
You’re supposed to be an elf, Kai, he told himself. Not a Wilderling. Enough with the bondage thing.
He shifted to hide his growing erection.
He didn’t know what, but there was something about that girl.