AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"But you're still here."
He nodded. "My nephew survived as well, though he died not long ago."
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to be polite, even though there were a thousand questions she wanted to ask him.
"It is all in the past," he said, somewhat dismissively. "Elves value tradition, but we try not to dwell in the past, or on what has been lost."
"Oh," was all she could think to say in response.
"You're calmer now," he observed. "I'm glad."
Cera couldn't help but smile a little, even though she was sure she'd been annoyed with him only moments earlier.
She was so caught up in the moment that she was still smiling as he reached into his robe. It was only when her eyes caught the silver gleam of a knife's blade that her stance went tight and rigid once more.
Her attention stuck to the knife, not moving a muscle as he lifted the blade. She felt only confusion as he drew the blade down onto his own hand, slicing open his palm without an iota of hesitation or apparent discomfort. Cera half expected liquid silver or pure light to spring from the wound, but the blood that pooled in his palm was a rich burgundy.
Suspending his hand between them, he asked, "Would you prefer I put it into a cup?"
Cera nodded, but only to buy herself time to understand what was happening. She didn't understand why he was offering his blood and she really hoped he wasn't planning on cutting her as well.
Isael reached over to her table, taking a goblet from her meal tray. She hadn't used it, but he took a moment to inspect it before tilting his hand and letting his blood run down into the goblet.
"There is nothing spoken of how much you must drink," he said, speaking as if this were the most normal thing in the world. "I would prefer to err on the side of caution."
The goblet was over half full by the time he tilted his palm upwards. She watched in muted amazement as the blood on his palm receded back into him, the wound closing up until all that remained was a thin, white line.
"I can enchant you," he said as he offered her the goblet. "If you find it difficult to stomach."
Cera shook her head, her human instincts immediately rejecting the idea. She found magic utterly fascinating, but not when it was used on her.
Taking the goblet, she stared down at it for a few seconds. She considered asking why, but didn't. Partly, it was because she didn't want to seem ignorant of what must have been some sort of elven tradition. The other part was that it didn't matter. She'd learned long ago that there was little point in questioning the things she had to do, for she would have to do them regardless. Questions merely stalled the inevitable.
So, she brought the cup to her lips, tilted it back, and drank.
It tasted like...blood. Somehow, that was also surprising. She struggled not to choke as she forced it down, unconsciously concerned that she might offend him. She finished it as quickly as possible, letting it slide down the back of her throat until the cup was empty. Setting the cup on the table perhaps a bit too forcefully, she sat back in her chair and willed herself not to vomit. She hoped he would give her stomach time to settle before he took her to bed. She didn't think she could endure what was to come if his blood was still sloshing around in her belly.
"How do you feel?" He was studying her carefully, as if she might sprout horns.
"Tired," she responded at once.
She couldn't very well tell him she felt fine, but she also didn't want to tell him that his blood hadn't exactly agreed with her palate. Still, she recognized that her thoughtless response likely signaled her unwillingness to share a bed with him.
She attempted to recover. "I'm sure it will pass, in short order."
He gave a single shake of his head. "Nonsense. I've kept you awake for too long. You need your rest."
His words carried the ring of finality, yet he remained seated, still studying her in his curious manner. Cera returned his stare, too uncertain of the situation to make the first move.
"You're certain that you're all right?" he asked. "I can remain here until you fall asleep."
Cera nibbled at her bottom lip as she considered his offer. Was that his way of requesting an invitation to her bed?
Her head ached. It wasn't supposed to be this complicated. And given that Isael had likely bedded countless women, she could only assume that she was the problem.
"Will you be sharing a bed with me tonight?" she asked. The question came out so easily that she was annoyed with herself for not asking sooner.
"No," he said. "That would not be prudent."
