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“I don’t assign such words to human women,practically, or otherwise,”Isael said.“How she looks matters not.”
Esodir fingered the pointed tip of his ear.“I’m sure it will matter to my son if his mother gives him the face of a goat.”
“Your son’s mother will be whoever you marry, not this girl,”Isael reminded him.“Which is another thing we will soon discuss.”
He groaned, running a hand through his flaxen hair.“So youdomean for me to marry.”
“A wife and child will make little difference in your life, I assure you.”
There was no woman with enough influence to shackle the nephew of the aesolin, unless Esodir willed it. He could continue dallying with women as much as he pleased. And as for his heir, it would be raised by Isael himself.
“Then why marry at all?”
“As a display of stability,”Isael said.“I will not tell you who you must marry, but I will tell you to choose wisely. If you are serious about sitting on my throne, you will need powerful allies to secure your position.”
Following a thoughtful pause, Esodir asked,“What happens if I can’t have a child with my concubine? Or my wife, or anyone? It’s not like I have a brother or a nephew that can…”He averted his gaze.“I’m sorry.”
“It is a valid concern,”Isael said quietly.“If you cannot, then perhaps it is the will of the gods that our bloodline and our magic should end with us.”
Warmth and the scent of lilies drew Isael toward the heavy doors that led out into the garden. At his approach, the guards rushed to push them open.
His frown deepening, Esodir asked,“Do you actually believe in the will of the gods?”
Isael drew on the wind, the howl of his magic making the guards scramble back just as the granite doors flew open.
“Only for things I cannot will myself.”
The Princess
Something moved outside the window. Cera squinted her eyes, trying to bring shape to the shadowed figure through the dusty windowpane of the carriage. The clouded night sky offered little insight into what it might be, but her mind was all too willing to fill in the gaps left by darkness.
Her thoughts turned back to the week before, when they’d crossed the border between Atera and Esryia. Ecstatic to be back in their homeland, the elves had stopped the carriage to get water from a mountain spring. From the way they drank, Cera assumed the water had some divine quality, but when she'd tasted it, it was no different than the elves themselves—wholly underwhelming.
For Cera, the stop had been her first opportunity to be alone since leaving her father’s castle. Drunk on spring water, her elven guards were unusually lax in protecting their high lord’s investment, and she’d been able to wander off under the pretense of relieving herself. A short walk up a leaf-matted deer trail led her to a rocky outcropping, where she’d discovered something that seized her attention.
It was an animal the size of a pony, but feathered and wrapped up in a tight mound atop a nest of branches and moss. With its colors of iridescent teal and royal blue, it reminded Cera of a peacock, which had been doubly confusing for her. Peacocks were native to lands with warmer climates, and only the males were brightly colored. It didn’t make sense that one would be sitting on a nest.
As she’d stared on with speculation, the feathers of the bird rustled, catching the sunlight and amplifying their allure. Cera had taken a single, impulsive step in its direction when a hand came down on her shoulder.
“Careful, Princess.”
It had been one of her elven guards. A polite, tan-skinned young man, handsome in the way that most Esryian men seemed to be. After quickly removing his hand from her, he’d bent down to pick up a stone, and then chucked it in the direction of the bird.
When the stone hit the base of the outcropping, the bird had shot up, unfurling and whipping around to snarl at the man. Cera had screamed, stumbling back at the sight of its long, serpentine neck, taloned feet, and mouth full of jagged teeth.
“Dragon!”
She’d backed up, straight into one of her chaperones. The whole entourage of elves had followed her up the hill, bearing witness to her terror with poorly concealed amusement.
“That is nodragon,” said one of her tittering chaperones. “It’s a little cliff wyvern.”
Even days later, she still felt irritated by the woman’s condescending tone. Thatlittlecliff wyvern had a mouth large enough to bite Cera’s head off. Fear had been a perfectly reasonable response to seeing a man-eating predator that she’d only ever heard about in stories.
“They don’t usually trifle with elves,” the guard said as the wyvern had hissed and darted off, disappearing into a thicket. “But that’s because we understand how they hunt.”
“How’s that?” Cera had asked, smoothing her skirts and attempting to regain her dignity.
“It’s more that theydon’thunt,” he’d said. “They don’t have to. They lay in plain sight, often around deer paths, and where the sunlight can catch their feathers. They’re beautiful, and their prey is attracted to them. When a doe wanders too close, that’s when the wyvern bares its fangs.”
