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“Fine,” Riven admitted. “I wasn’t as daring with theikweniraas Nikolai. And Syrra had a habit of stealing the ones I managed to talk to.” He cut her a sideways glance.
“You were terrible at talking to women,” Syrra said with a smug look. “You still are.” Nikolai sat down beside her, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he passed her another rabbit.
“And you two never...?” I asked, pointing to Nikolai and Syrra. They were so close, always whispering together in Elvish or sitting together around the fire.
“Absolutely not,” Syrra said. Her lips pulled back like she had tasted something bitter.
Nikolai dropped his rabbits and broke into a fit of laughter. “What gave you that impression?” he asked through his wheezes.
“You seem so close. I thought there was something between you,” I said with a shrug.
“Nikolai is my nephew,” Syrra replied. I thought she might vomit into her tea.
I tied the last of the bedrolls and piled them together. When Nikolai stopped laughing, I shot him a confused look.
“Your father was a Mortal?” I asked.
“No.” Nikolai’s brows knotted together. “He was Fae.”
I blinked in confusion. “Soyoursister was a Halfling?” I asked Syrra.
“No, she was an Elf,” Syrra answered. She reached out and touched my forehead with the back of her hand. Her lips tugged downward.
Riven was the first to realize the source of my confusion. “Nikolai is an Elf,” he explained. “Not a Halfling.”
Syrra’s and Nikolai’s brows both lifted at the same time. Now that I knew of the family connection, I could see it in the shape of their eyes and cheekbones.
“But your name is a Mortal name?” I thought aloud. “And your ears are cut?” I crossed my arms as I realized I’d only assumed he was a Halfling because of the scars along his ears.
Nikolai’s smile faded. “My parents were caught during the last of the Blood Purges. Word hadn’t reached them to head to theFaelinth. My father died protecting our clan. My mother escaped with me. I was only a babe, but she was caught outside of Volcar. One of the king’s soldiers took pity on me and left me at an orphanage in the city. My ears were cut and I was given a new name to pass as Mortal. I was four when Syrra found me and took me home.”
I didn’t respond. The Blood Purges were how King Aemon took his throne. Well-organized attacks on unsuspecting Elves. By the time the Fae intervened most of the clans had been killed off and Aemon had already claimed his crown.
“You never took your Elvish name?” I asked, reaching out a hand to Nikolai.
“I don’t remember it,” Nikolai said, squeezing my hand. “But even if I did, I wouldn’t change it. It’s a reminder of what happened to our people. What is still happening to our people.” He cast his eyes eastward. The Elves saw the Halflings as their own. Kin they hoped would one day return to them, but I didn’t know if I agreed. The Halflings were a lost people. No culture of their own. Even if we freed them, I knew some would refuse to see the Elves as their kin.
“Come now, Keera,” Nikolai said after eating in silence. He offered his hand as he stood, but I ignored it and stood up myself. “The quicker we leave, the sooner I get to spend the evening falling in love with the maidens of Cereliath.”
“No interest in the men of Cereliath?” I teased. It had certainly been an interest of his in Aralinth.
Nikolai rolled his eyes. “Mortals are so rigid in the way they see the world. I don’t have time for the shame of their men. At least the maidens are fun.”
“You’ll spend your eveningterrorizingthe maidens,” I said with a smirk. “It’s your coin that will entice them, not your claims of love. And if you do bed a woman, I’ll be sure that she was not a maiden to begin with.”
Syrra barked a laugh. Riven had a curious smirk on his face as I mounted my horse.
“True enough, Keera dear,” Nikolai said, chuckling into the mane of his steed. “The day I fall in love will be the day I’m a changed man.”
“Ifyou fall in love,” I countered, tempted to stick out my tongue.
“There’s the cynical side we’ve missed all morning.” Nikolai laughed as he cantered ahead of the group.
Somehow the day passed more quickly than the ones before.
We arrived in Cereliath with only a day to spare. I looked up at the beautiful sandstone manor, turned russet in the light of the setting suns. Tomorrow it would be teaming with lords and their guests celebrating the start of the harvest. Lord Curringham would be the host with the key to the storehouses slung around his neck like always.
Riven and I left Syrra and Nikolai in the outskirts of the city. They would check in with Collin’s crew and try to find rooms for us. Even the dingiest places were full when the House of Harvest hosted a ball.
