Page 125 of Blood of Ancients

My other mates laughed.

Corym glanced at our guide. I saw he was looking at a red tattoo high up on her bicep, near her shoulder. Her arms were bare from the sleeveless, backless tunic she wore.

Risqué, by human standards.

“Are you a child of the E’lain clan, Zentha?” my mate asked.

She shot him a surprised look. “I am,varus. How do you—”

“I knew your father, Theomer,” Corym said, putting a palm to his chest. “Fought with him in Svartalfheim. A good soldier. I am of the E’tar.”

Zentha smiled demurely at Corym, which for some reason made me jealous. Probably because she had such otherworldly beauty.

“I am aware you are E’tar,varus. You are the Fifth Company-Prince. Your exploits are well-known here.”

Not tomethey’re not. What exploits does she speak of, hmm?I gave him a small look that said as much, almost accusatory, and he put a hand around my back to pull me close.

I rapidly felt better.

Pull it together, Vini. This is no place to be jealous and small.

I needed to pump my chest out, walk with purpose, and remember who the fuck I was: Ravinica Lindeen, badass runeshaper and possible Lightbearer legend. Unique bog-blood half-elf who carried the essence of both races inside me.

Of course, Zentha was just making small talk. I didn’tactuallyfeel like Corym was hitting on her or found her alluring. She was undoubtedly attractive, but so was every other shirtless or scantily clad elf we passed.

It was my own insecurity bubbling to the surface for the first time in a while, which surprised me by how loud it was.

Typically, I was not an envious person. I knew my worth, my strength, and there was a reason I had five men pining after me. Fivegorgeousmen, no less.

I let Corym talk, feeling more confident in how I would approach things here after I’d gotten that spur of self-doubt out of the way.

Zentha and Corym carried on their conversation in low tones, and I learned more about my mate in the short ten-minute walk down the main avenue.

For one, he was quite the man here. He had a high station, a high purpose, and carried himself humbly despite his place among the gentry. Even if he wasn’t aCourt-Princeliving on the higher tiers of the city, Company-Prince was nothing to scoff at.

Zentha said, “Sixteen of my siblings attend Brightdawn Academy where you taught herbalism,varus. They hope to be medics and soldiers in the Royal Gold.”

Corym let out an impressed sound.

I blurted, “Sixteenbrothers and sisters?!”

Zentha gave an airy laugh, like a fairy dancing on her tongue. “Aye,maelen.Families are large in Alokana.”

“Large among all the Ljosalfar, you mean,” Corym muttered, shaking his head.

I had nearly forgotten elves liked to . . . stay busy. As I glanced around at the fancy structures, bright roads, and the elves gathered around the streets, it started to make sense.

This showing of skin . . . the way they carry themselves . . . the elegance and self-importance. It’s all to show their worth to possible mates, I’m sure.

I needed to remember what Corym had said—or at least alluded to—when he mentionedMaltorVaalnath’s four wives and two husbands.

Ljosalfar fucked.A lot. Simple as that. They clearly weren’t as repressed or timid about showing their “wares” in public as many cultures from Midgard were. There was no shame here in the act of sex, or the enjoyment of it, evidently.

A grunt and wheeze caught my attention.

“Silvermoon,” Magnus said nervously.

I looked over my shoulder. Hersir Kelvar was wincing, struggling to keep up as he limped after us. His face was sweating.

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