Page 8 of The Goddesses' Gifts

He sighed heavily. “Unborn elves need someone other than the mother to invest power in them as they grow. You have less than you ought to, so we need to start this sooner rather than later.”

I gaped at him. It just sounded ridiculous. “What?”

“I only need to put my hands here,” Zelfek rested his hands on his hips, “or here.” He moved them to his belly and back. “Then I’ll pass a current of magic through. The babe takes what it needs to exist.”

“You’re serious?” I took a step further away.

“May the gods strike me down …” he swore with a slow nod. “It’s the whole reason we have mating bonds. I swear to tell you all about it if you just come stand here and put your womb between my hands,” he gestured to the floor between his feet. “I promise it doesn’t hurt. Though forcing you to stand here might,” he hedged. It was a threat, but he’d delivered it lightly. I didn’t think he wanted to force me but would if I made him. And it wouldn’t take much since there hadn’t been time for me to recover my strength.

“Fine,” I snarled under my breath and took the few steps to stand between his feet.

Zelfek peered up at me with his odd citrine eyes and put his hands on my hips. He didn’t grab or pinch or tug, just rested the weight of his arms there. A strange warmth passed between his hands and through me. The sensation felt odd, but not unpleasant. It sort of tugged, like the flow of a slow summer stream. Zelfek quirked an eyebrow as if to say I told you so.

“Explain,” I said, sounding as short tempered as I felt.

“Elves weren’t always corporeal.” he started.

I snorted. “Oh, well, why would they?” This was starting to sound like a much longer conversation than I was prepared for, tired as I was.

Zelfek flattened his lips. “I don’t have to explain anything, you know,” he said. “I could simply hold you down, do this, and leave you with no explanation.”

He could have. He could have brought help to do it too. That insight brought me to the conclusion that he was probably trying to deal with me in good faith. And it wouldn’t serve me to bite any hand offered in genuine aid. Perhaps he didn’t deserve all of my vitriol. Just some of it, for targeting me in the first damn place.

“You’re right,” I admitted with a reluctant sigh. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

He gave me a gracious nod in acceptance of my apology before continuing. “We were once nature spirits, like the wisps you might see in the forest at night,” he explained. “But when the fae arrived on our plane, they brought a sort of ambient magic that changed those spirits to something more. Something sentient.”

I gaped at him. “The fae haven’t always been here?”

He gave me a slightly sour expression that told me he wasn’t surprised to find another gap in my knowledge. “No, they’re invasive, but that isn’t pertinent,” he shook his head. “Now, these sentient little nature spirits appealed to the greater spirit, or god … I think some humans call it Genarae?”

“Genarae, the Mother,” I acknowledged.

Zelfek continued. “They appealed to Genarae for bodies like the humans, so they could interact with the physical world. This god stole the ambient fae energy to quickly build human-like bodies from water and earth. Then it joined the sentient spirits to their new bodies, simultaneously breathing a spark of life into them.” He paused, perhaps looking for understanding in my expression. I had little idea where this was going, so I doubted he saw anything other than mild confusion. “Genarae typically worked the other way around,” he explained. “Creating life and building the life forms around it over thousands of years. So what she did to make us was technically cheating.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded, starting to feel a little fuzzy. The trickle of magic washing through me was warm and oddly soothing. “How does this lead us to bonds?”

“Well,” he said with a tilt of his head, “everything was new to the first elves, eating, drinking, sleeping, procreation, and so on. Their human neighbors taught them how to … exist. But there was one monumental difference,” Zelfek paused for emphasis, raising his eyebrows, and meeting my eyes. “Those elves couldn’t carry a pregnancy to completion and the humans couldn’t offer a solution. Instead, they taught the elves how to mourn. And mourn they did, believing they’d be the first and last of their kind,” he said somberly, as if that pain was so great that, despite thousands of years and many generations, the elves could still feel it. “Eventually, they developed a better understanding of our magic and realized that their offspring needed an additional investment of power. We’ve never figured out exactly why, though the working theory is that the spark of life doesn’t transfer like it does for naturally evolved lifeforms. It wasn’t until the next generation started to procreate that they discovered the bond between parents. The male is compelled to come attend to the child, like so,” he nodded to the space between us, “and see to the safety of the pregnant elfess. After the birth, they’re bound as a family for, oh, at least a decade—until the child is old enough to break the bond itself. We invest so much more into our offspring that they are part of us, and us a part of them. They have access to our experience, and we have access to their … well, distress.”

Mother above, no wonder Lobikno was so desperate to get his children. If they had such miserable childhoods here, they would be in near constant distress.

“So why would Lhoris and Lobikno kill each other?”

Zelfek’s face twisted into a frown, his voice bitter when he spoke. “Irnon made some changes to the compulsion when the dark elves became her creatures.” He met my eyes again. “Males are not her preferred children, and to prevent us from resisting the compulsion, like our woodland cousins can, she twisted the bond. We are driven to submission by pain if we ignore the duties to our mate and offspring. It can even drive us mad if our mate is in danger, reacting violently to almost anything until she is safe. A moment of jealousy is all it would take.”

My eyelids were very heavy, and my mind felt dull. The soothing tug of Zelfek’s magic current had warmed me from head to toe at this point and all I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. I sighed and brought my attention back to the subcommander, who was patiently waiting for my slow response, watching my mouth, again.

I frowned a little at his attention. If he hadn’t looked so pleasantly, patiently disinterested, I’d have worried he was thinking about stealing a kiss. Then again, there are many people that needed to read lips to understand the spoken word. It would make more sense, but it didn’t sit right either. Or maybe I was just tired and paranoid after Dulanzo’s threats.

“Lobikno and I haven’t really crossed paths since we were … intimate,” I explained sheepishly. “I’ve never felt any inclination toward him. Just Lhoris.”

Zelfek seemed lost in thought for a few heartbeats, his eyes not quite focused on my face. “Then you haven’t established a bond with him yet.” His brow furrowed, but one corner of his mouth turned up just a fraction. “Yes, we may see at least one of them come for you.”

“Why do you want them here? Do you want to kill them yourself?”

Zelfek let go of my hips and gave me a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I don’t wish my cousins any harm.” He paused and sighed. “At least not those cousins. Step back now, I need to leave.”

I nodded and gave him space. “How often will you do this?”

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