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"I am offering you a new one. I don't want you as a temporary bedmate. I would have you as my consort."
He punctuated the declaration with a look that was rather self-satisfied. As if he expected Cera to be delighted and shower him with appreciation.
In a gesture that was sublimely unbecoming, Cera threw her hands up. "I don't know what that means, except that I would be a glorified concubine."
"It is a position of esteem and great honor."
Cera tried to recall what Maewyn had told her earlier that morning. "And when you are through with me, I will—"
"I have no intention of being through with you."
"What if I want to be through with you?"
Her response was reflexive, and as soon as it left her, she realized how it might be taken.
Where had all of her good sense gone? In twenty years, she had never spoken back to her father. She may have had sharp retorts for the queen mother, but they were always muttered under her breath, long after the crone was out of earshot.
Her sister Rimera had been the defiant one, the one that could never mind her mouth and always got herself into trouble. But Cera was obedient, dutiful, and compliant. It was how she'd survived. And yet now, when she was arguably more vulnerable than ever, she had decided to grow a spine.
And ofallthe people to argue with.
The high lord of the elves. A man who had lived for centuries, had slain dragons, and had been ruling an empire for the better part of his life. And here she was, bickering with him over how she was to serve him.
"I'm sorry, my lord," she said, lowering her head. "So much has changed these past few days. I am not quite myself. It is not my nature to be contrary, it is only the strain of...everything."
Isael hooked a finger under her chin, bringing her back up to face him. To her relief, he no longer appeared annoyed with her.
"I want us to speak freely when we're alone," Isael said. "Even if it means we disagree or bicker. You need not fear reprisal."
Cera wondered if he was enchanting her again. She felt inordinately at ease, so much so that she was inclined to put his words to the test.
"Why does it matter to you, that I speak freely?"
He paused thoughtfully, which seemed to be a habit of his. Finally, he said, "Perhaps I should say that it is for your benefit, but I am not quite so generous. The truth of it is, I've spent many lifetimes surrounded by people who would seek to appease me. There are no shortage of sycophants in my court. Even my enemies do not challenge me openly. It is all quite dull."
"So you want me to argue with you?" Cera asked.
A corner of his lips tugged. "Not arbitrarily so. You try to speak to me as others do, but there is always a least one moment where you forget yourself and speak to me as if I were simply a man. I enjoy it, even if it means we may disagree."
His small smile pulled at something inside of Cera, and coupled with what he'd said, it took considerable willpower to force out her next words.
"I don't want to be courted by you and I don't think I want to be your consort either." She kept her eyes fixed on the path ahead as she spoke. "Just a few nights ago, I was essentially human and perhaps you didn't like that, but for me, at least I knew where I stood. I was to be your concubine and, if you kept your word, one day I might be free to live my own life. Now, my body has changed and I'm manifesting magic, and you're acting like I'm some princess to be wooed, but I'm not. I'm just..."
She let the statement hang. Others could disparage her in front of the high lord, but she wouldn't commit such an injustice against herself.
"I'm overwhelmed," she said, finally looking his way. He was staring at her so intensely that she nearly lost her nerve. She finished with a weak, "My lord."
Seconds passed, until finally Isael inclined his head. The look he gave her was almost contrite.
"I apologize. I'm getting ahead of myself," he said, speaking deliberately. "It is a common misconception that humans have of us, that elves are patient. Perhaps some are, but when I want something, I have the tendency to pursue it single-mindedly until I've acquired it."
"And you want to court me?" She asked, near to relenting. It pained her to think of how she might cope with him lavishing attention on her or performing romantic overtures, but she supposed she could endure it if it pleased him.
Isael said, "I want you to be at ease with me. I want you to become fond of me, as I am becoming of you."
Cera had to work moisture into her mouth before replying. "Because I look like one of your people."
She'd meant it as a question, but it came out as a blunt statement.
