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Selosin fal’hyrn. Comfort before precision.
Isael had repeated the mantra to him many times, but Esodir had yet to internalize it. His aversion to making mistakes made him learn slowly, despite his intelligence. When a challenge was too great, he’d give up entirely, but not before making a show of his disinterest or disparaging the object of his frustration.
“She was not a fool,” Isael said, granting her the label he applied to anyone who addressed him with respect and knew their place. “Quick-witted, for her age.”
It was difficult to say much more about her, given how little time they’d spent together. He had liked her curiosity about magic. Most humans feared it, but she’d been on the edge of her seat just seeing him light a candle. He’d also liked her honesty and appreciated that she hadn’t tried to stroke his ego with empty compliments.
He was tempted to tell Esodir how she’d assumed he’d wanted to bed her, but the impulse only reminded him he actuallyhadwanted to.
It had been a fleeting desire, and not one he’d actuallyindulge, but he couldn’t ignore that the inclination had been there. It hadn’t been because of attraction to her, but his own vanity.
She hadn’t wanted him. It was understandable, given her circumstances, but for Isael, it was surreal. Women had been angling to get into his bed all his life, but never more so than after he’d becomeaesolin.Over the years, he favored women who behaved indifferently toward him, even if he knew it was only an act. It worked, sparking his near-dormant competitive spirit, at least for however many days or hours it took to get them into bed.
But for Cera, it had been no act. She’d looked downright daunted by the prospect of having to share his bed, and it had been hard not to see her distaste for him as a challenge. He had no interest in bedding an unwilling woman, but there was an allure to seducing one.
“I didn’t expect her to look so womanly,” Esodir said. “She’s only twenty?”
“Twenty-one,” Isael said, leaning back in his seat. Saying her age aloud was an ordeal. Although he was more familiar with humans than Esodir, he still struggled to reconcile the number with the woman he saw before him.
His people aged slower than humans, not reaching adolescence until well into their second decade. At sixty, Esodir was now on the cusp of manhood, though many would still see him as a boy until he reached his first century. Because he was of good breeding—or at least, what passed for good breedingin theirera—he was likely to live five to six centuries before he began showing signs of age.
Once elves began to age, the effect was precipitous. In the span of a decade, the centuries would overtake them, turning them gray, wrinkled, and feeble. Looking at him now, it was hard to imagine that day might come for Esodir. Harder still to accept that Isael might have to watch his nephew succumb to the passage of time, while his own body remained untouched by its corrosion.
“She’s clearly a woman,” Esodir said, sounding more as if he were talking to himself than Isael. Beneath the table, his hands clutched his knees. “So, I’ll do my duty. Perhaps it would be more convenient if she shared myroomfor a time.”
Esodir’s fumbling attempt at seeming beleaguered should have been amusing to Isael. But it wasn’t, not in the slightest. At the suggestion that she would share his bed, the centuries melted fromIsael. All at once, he was a boy, fighting with his brother over a toy.
Not that Erael had ever proven much of a challenge. His brotherhadn’t likedto fight. Even when they were small, he’d always wanted to negotiate and discuss nebulous concepts like ‘fairness.’ Eventually, Isaelhad tiredof his lectures and simplybrokenall of their toys in half.
‘Half for you, half for me. Is that not fair? Why do you cry?’
Esodir was not his brother. He stood no chance at competing withIsael, and he wouldn’t dare try. Isael used this knowledge to calm the rising tide of agitation, not responding until he knew he was steady.
“I’ve given a great deal of thought to the conversation we had yesterday,” Isael said. “And you’re right. It’s too soon for you to be thinking of children, concubines, and marriage. You should be focused on getting your footing in the council chamber.”
Esodir’s features went slack as he lookedtoIsael. He cleared his throat, before saying, “I’ve given it thought, as well, Uncle. I think I overreacted yesterday. I know it’s my duty to ensure Ishvalier’s line of succession, and I intend to do so.”
Not with her, you won’t.
The thought surprised him. Although he had no intention of giving her over to Esodir now, he could see no reason not to do so once he was finished with her.
Finished doing what?
He wasn’t certain. What he did know was that to keep her in his own bed would be selfish, and ultimately without purpose.
But then again, he wasn’t a man prone to altruism.
“I’m glad to hear you feel that way. Perhaps in a few years, I’ll give her to you,” Isael said. “But for now, consider yourself unburdened.”
Esodir’s mouth tightened, but wisely, he kept it shut and nodded.
Isael turned his attention back to Cera in time to see her captivated by a passing butterfly. It landed on the rim of her water glass, and she leaned down to regard it, her eyes wide with wonder.
Those eyes were crystalline pools, bright, yet deep. Flecked with sapphire around the irises, they weren’t quite his eyes, but they werehiseyes.
Had he fallen asleep and conjured an ideal female from his dreams, he wouldn’t have crafted a more perfect mate.
Hecouldn’thave.
