Page 97 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

He sat listening to the sounds of the river below. Gulls called to one another, and fishermen hailed orders. Despite the cold, Tharan liked having the windows open. It kept him connected to nature. The mammoth fireplace in each of his suite’s rooms kept the quarters warm.

Elowen’s words replayed over and over again in his mind. The mere thought of her lying with her father turned his stomach. He wanted to tell Aelia.

“Fuck it.” He twisted the stone in his ear.

“Tharan?” a sleepy voice answered.

“Hi,” he said timidly.

“Hi,” she said, letting out a gasp of relief. “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I was so cross last night.”

He smiled softly. “It’s alright. I think I’ve found a way out of our little predicament.”

“How?” A guarded excitement filled her voice.

“Just let me worry about it. You worry about getting to the Isle of Fate.”

“Tharan, do not get my hopes up.”

“Nothing is ever guaranteed here, my love.”

He could hear her lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag. Tharan pictured her standing on the balcony all those months ago, the wind whipping at her cheeks. Her lush lips begging to bekissed. His cock twitched with lust. He stilled himself. Now was not the time for pleasure.

“I don’t know how long this trip to see the Fates will last or if we’ll even make it back.” Aelia’s voice quivered with apprehension.

His chest tightened.

“Don’t speak like that, my love. We will be together soon.”

“I hope so.”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

“I’ve got to go. I love you, Aelia.”

He twisted the whisper stone and cut the connection. “Enter,” he said, and Sumac and Hopper took seats at his table.

“What is so important you had to wake us this early?” Hopper said, rubbing his eyes.

Tharan rang the bell and motioned for the servant to bring more coffee. “I thought you’d like to take a walk.”

“This early in the morning? You know I’m a night owl.”

Sumac kicked Hopper under the table.

“Ow. What was that for?”

Sumac gave him a look that said, “It’s not about the walk.”

The servant girl returned with two more silver coffee carafes, pouring Sumac and Hopper a cup.

Taking a sip, Hopper straightened.

“Yes, I would.”

They finished their coffees and headed into the wintery streets of the elven capitol. The granite sparkled in the gray light of morning. The elves ran hot water beneath their streets to clear them of any snow, leaving a clear path for them to walk. Elegant marble and granite homes rose along the water’s edge. Tharan wondered how many of these were built by sylph hands with money made off the backs of sylph slaves.

They strolled through the town center where elven merchants sold their goods, not unlike the markets of theWoodland Realm. A harpist strummed a magical tune very similar to one the sylph often played at their fairs. Throughout their centuries of enslavement, the sylph and the elves had picked up some of the other’s culture. Even some of their baked goods were similar. But where sylph obsessed over sugar, the elves loved savory treats, adding vegetables and herbs to their baked goods.

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