Page 57 of The Goddesses' Gifts

I smirked back at him. It was true. I liked the young man. Nicolas was smart and loyal to his people. In my estimation, he was worthy to be a man in power.

“Besides, what’s the point of having elves as part of my household if I can’t ask their opinion on the matter of elves?” He shrugged.

“A fair point,” I agreed with a nod. “What questions come to mind with this information?”

“Your mother writes about people being displaced,” Nicolas said, with a casual gesture of his hand. “Is that typically what happens when these fae come to blows?”

“Not in the last few hundred years,” I shook my head and sighed. “There haven’t been more than a handful of skirmishes in living history … elf living history, at least. But it's been thousands of years since anything so impactful has spilled out of their reality into our own.”

Nicolas’ brows furrowed and he jerked in surprise. “So, they exist somewhere other than this world?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “They created the high elves to mind the gateway.” I rolled my eyes at the self-important title my fae made cousins chose for themselves. Culturally, their distain was probably the only thing that the woodland people and dark elves shared. “They prevent the foolish from wandering into Fairy or incurring their wrath. The seelie and unseelie fae are gods, for all intents and purposes. Nothing on the mortal side of existence has even a fraction of their power.”

“What’s the difference between the high elves and the rest of the elves?” Nicolas asked. “I have no idea how anything works on your continent.”

“Well, we are very distantly related to the fae, in a manner of speaking. Our very distant ancestors were non-corporeal nature spirits. When the fae portal appeared and their magic started spilling out, the earth spirit, you call her Genarae, saw us changing and evolving with the new magic. We wanted physical bodies, and she needed allies in staving off the invasive fae.” I paused to observe my friend, to make sure he was following along. Nicolas leaned forward in his seat, his mouth gaping.

“This is fascinating, Lhoris, go on!” he encouraged. “I had no idea.”

“She gave us human bodies, but our magic changed them to fit. We didn’t need bulky muscles because our magic feeds our physical strength. And our ears are longer because, well, we needed a way to sense the energies around us, but human eyes weren’t adaptable enough for the task. We sense it through vibration. But the energy pouring from Fairy doesn’t belong to Genarae, and fae magic requires balance. So the high fae took some of Genarae’s other nature spirits and created the high elves. And because they understood how to control the balance of such magic, they imbued their version with more power.” I snorted and leaned back in my seat. “They think they’re better than the rest of us because of it.”

“But where did the dark elves come from?” Nicolas asked.

“Ah,” I nodded and stared at the crackling fire doing its best to chase away the early spring chill. “Fae magic requires balance with its duel nature. Seelie and Unseelie. Light and dark. Bargains struck, bargains broken.”

“You’re rambling now,” chided Nicolas.

“We were one once, then we split,” I sighed with a shrug. “Nobody knows for sure how it happened. There’s a lot of lore. Our creation we are certain of, down to our bones. The memories of our spirit ancestors burn brighter than my own when I recall them. But history the physical plane is hard to keep. Books can be burned or rot. Stories change and memories fade over time. What we do know is that we were once the same. If a woodland elf has a child with a dark elf, the baby would be one or the other. Not a blend.”

“Wait,” Nicolas raised a hand to interject, “you meant to tell me you can remember things that happened before living history?”

“Well, yes. But the only thing worth noting is the creation of my people. Everything before hand was … boring. Just watching the seasons change and the plants grow.”

“But the shifting of continents … your ancestor knew the world before our land mass came together?”

“Well, yes,” I shrugged. “They were there when the mountains were shorelines. But as I said, it’s about as exciting as watching water evaporate, Nicolas. The continents didn’t crash together. There was just less water between shores, then a land bridge, then the mountains grew. It took millions of years.”

Nicolas rubbed his face then ran his fingers through his hair before resting his elbows on his knees and staring up at me. “You have recollection of plants and animals that don’t fucking exist anymore. I’m an obsessively overeducated pretentious prick,” he snorted. “I would almost murder for a glimpse of those memories.”

I understood why he would want to, I did. “It’s quite frankly too much to sift through,” I shook my head. “Like seeking a single unique word in the whole of your library. The last thing they remembered before becoming flesh is the only thing easily found or worth recalling.”

Nicolas heaved a sigh. “It’s still astonishing.”

“Perhaps I can take some notes for you if I remember anything interesting,” I said getting to my feet. “It’s late and Oz is no doubt wondering where I am.”

LOBIKNO

Lhoris and I took turns checking in on Oz during the day. I made a point to sit with her for a few minutes in the evening if Lhoris had to step out to help deliver a baby or otherwise assist the healer. Clovis regularly took Lhoris along with him to deliveries, getting him trained up for the flood of them coming in June. The old physician was training as many willing hands as he could to catch babies, but Lhoris was the only one honestly training with him beyond that. It was almost too easy to tease my brother about becoming a midwife.

One such night, I got Oshruli to bed in my room before going next door to check on Oz. She could hear me approach, so I didn’t bother knocking anymore. It was a strain for her to get out of bed to let me in and she had plenty of time to tell me to wait if she wasn’t decent. When I slipped inside, she was where I found her most evenings, lying uncomfortably in bed with whatever book she wanted to read. There was an entire stack on her bedside table within easy reach.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

As always, she set down her book and tried to sit up as though her massive belly wasn’t slowing her down, but the babies were too big for her to fake it any longer. She gave me a pleading look. I chuckled and offered her my hand.

After many long months, I stopped flinching away from that sort of contact. She’d tried to make sure I wasn’t neglecting myself and had respectfully maintained every boundary I’d discovered and drawn along the way. Except while she was asleep. I couldn’t hold it against her if she rested her cheek on me or nestled under my chin while unconscious. I thought it was nice, though I’d never admit it. It wasn’t fantastic. I couldn’t feel that for her, but it was just so damn good not to hate and fear the experience. I looked forward to not ever being obligated to touch her again, but there was a part of me that truly appreciated the opportunity to enjoy taking care of my baby instead of dreading it.

Oz panted a little bit once she was upright. “How do I feel? I feel like I’ll be glad to have my body back someday,” she answered with a groan. “It’s embarrassing to be this weak.” She turned a little so she could rest her feet on the floor and rubbed her lower back.

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