Chapter 15
D elicate white light met her eyes. The fire had died, but the sun was up. It was early morning by her reckoning. She slept not on the cold, hard shore, but upon something soft and warm.
Aelrie looked up, still feeling groggy from just waking. She was curled up in Shikra’s arms. Her head rested on his chest, and his arm wrapped itself loosely around her. His other arm was outstretched, supporting his head as a pillow with his cheek resting softly on her head.
Her body froze. She held her breath unless he heard. The cold last night must have drawn them together. Had her dream been real, too?
No. It must have been just a dream. Shikra didn’t feel that way about her, and she was sure whatever it was, it was purely lust. As quietly as she could, she unlaced her body from his and released a deep breath once she was free.
She stood and dusted the sand off the cloak. There wasn’t much on it because it was hard-packed. But she cleaned it as much as she could and placed it over Shikra. Doing so woke him up .
He grunted and sat up, and the cloak fell to his lap. He squinted his eyes at her, trying to get accustomed to the bright new day.
She fidgeted pointlessly, pretending to be occupied. But the fire had gone out. They had no food to cook. She dared not even take a sip of that black as midnight water from the lake.
He then focused on the cloak in his lap. “This was for you.” His voice sounded a little gruff first thing in the morning.
Wasn’t a morning person, was he?
“I figured you might need it. It’s yours anyway.”
He jumped up off the ground with the grace of a cat, stretched, and yawned. “I gave it to you for a reason.” He placed the cloak again around her shoulders, tying the strings at her neck, and began a lecture. “We are approaching civilization.”
He flipped the hood from the back of the cloak over her head. It covered a lot of her appearance, perfect for an assassin. “You must not be seen by other Dark Elves, and if you are, you must appear to be my slave,” he continued.
“Your slave?” she snapped, stepping back. “You’re only telling me this now?”
“This is no time to play innocent.” His voice became more authoritative. It ignited such anger in her that she was not sure where it came from.
“The moment you are seen as a Light Elf, you will be either killed or taken prisoner to be turned into a slave. It will make your existence in my world more believable if you are already a slave. My slave.”
“I am not your slave, nor will I ever be!”
“Sheath your claws. This is only pretend. I know you are not my slave, and I never treated you as such.” His eyes narrowed on her, daring her to counter that.
“All you have to do is act like my slave when others are around, or would you rather watch me kill every elf we come across that sees you, be they male or female? Because that is what I will do.”
He was using his own ruthlessness against her, threatening to murder innocents.
It was at that moment that she wished he’d been another elf. She’d gotten too close to him, lowered her guard, and started to see him as she would see herself. But they were incomparable. He killed for coin, and she’d do well never to forget that.
“Good job.” She took a deep breath, giving in to his demand. But not without a last word. “Your cruelty has won. Feel proud of yourself?”
“Survival knows no cruelty, no innocence. Only live or die.”
The more he showed himself to her, the less she could picture what he must have been like as a child. No child thinks of life in that way. Even in the direst of times, they are always hopelessly optimistic about the future. What must have happened to turn his outlook on life so bleak?
“I pity the world you grew up in that made you think so.”
“I pity your naivete.”
She huffed. “Naivete?” Incensed, she glared at him. “Is that what you call having no reason to murder the innocent?”
“No,” he said and smirked wickedly. “You pay a Dark Elf to do that for you.”
She was glad she had the hood on and turned from him abruptly before he could see the tears fall down her cheeks like rain on a hot day, hastily wiping them away with her hands.
“I know that sound.” He spoke from behind her, his voice barely a whisper. “Hopelessness. Fighting against reality. The bars of your cage.”
She turned back to face him, her face red and eyes puffy. He was close. She hadn’t noticed he’d approached while her back was turned to him.
He lifted the hood. Her bottom lip quivered as his eyes sought the evidence of her tears, which he knew were there.
His hand caressed her face lightly and cupped her chin to look up at him. His eyes held sorrow, yet his lips promised blissful pleasure as he leaned in for a kiss.
Yet he did not kiss her; his lips still hovered above hers, and she felt the flutter of his eyelashes on her wet cheeks.
“I know what you want. Something to crawl through the darkness and save you from your despair. Something to make the pain go away, dry your tears, and give back what was taken, lost … gone forever.”
She drew a hesitant breath. He pulled back slightly but kept her chin gently in place. Her knees were shaky, as if he held her up with his gaze alone .
“I can be that for you.” His words were sweet poison.
The way they wormed their way into her heart with ease, making her forget her anger, her principles, her self.
“There is no need for you to fight against the darkness. Give it to me.” His eyes met hers.
“I will take your pain and leave nothing but pleasure in its place.”
It sounded so simple; she almost gave in to it. She wanted the pain to go away, wanted to feel pleasure and a reprieve from the darkness, all from his blissful touch and silken words.
But … she broke from his gaze, his control.
She remembered where the pain came from.
Her hopelessness of being unable to protect Lindana.
The despair knowing that life was gone for her forever, and that she’d never see her again, never speak to her, never greet her after morning prayers.
The life she’d planned for herself was taken from her.
And he was the one who did it.
Her eyes met his again, and her confidence and strong mind returned once more. “What of your pain?” she asked. “What of your pleasure?”
“Your pain is my pain.” He took her hand. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.” He planted a feathery kiss under her wrist.
She let him hold her hand there for a moment before answering him. “My pain is my own. Without it, I would not be strong.” She then withdrew her hand, and her voice rose. “I would be a sniveling coward who trades pain for an opiate.”
He leaned back to give her space, and the shadow of a smile graced his face. “I am glad to hear that from you. You are strong. That’s why you’ve made it this far.” He put her hood back on. “But little flower must listen to reason if she is to survive in the Evergloom, my home.”
“Fine,” she grumbled and turned away from him. “I will be your slave.” She then turned back to glare at him. “But only as a ruse. Dare you take liberties with that, and my dagger will make you no longer a male.”
He held his hands up, the innocent act a little too strongly put on. “I wouldn’t dare dream of that.”