Page 104 of Storm of Shadows

“Do I look like a moon elf to you?”

I bite my tongue to stop myself from reminding him of the dozens of times he’s referred to himself as a moon elf. “Only a little.”

It must be a rhetorical question, since his glare intensifies.

“What? You asked me a question, and I answered. Your ears are pointy, and your hair is silver. Aside from your eyes, I’d say you do very much look like a moon elf.”

Natharius says nothing. I turn to my blanket, where Zephyr is already sprawled out.

“Wait,” Natharius says after a few steps. “I will drink it.”

I refrain from saying that a ‘please’ would go a long way, since manners seem a foreign concept to him, and wordlessly hand over the goblet.

The Void Prince stares down at the glittering liquid, his eyes shadowed. “It has been long since I last tasted moon blossom wine.”

“How long is ‘long’? Before you became a demon?”

“Indeed.”

I tilt my head as I examine his contemplative expression. Maybe the reason he initially refused the wine was because he has drunk none since he was a moon elf and it reminds him of his mortal life.

“You shouldn’t sit all the way over here,” I say as he lifts the goblet, nodding to where Juron and Caya sit before the campfire.

He pauses, the goblet stopping at his lips. “Why not?”

“Isn’t it lonely?

“I’m a Void Prince of the Abyss. Why would I experience such pathetic mortal feelings?”

“Who knows? You were mortal once. Did you experience pathetic mortal feelings such as loneliness before you became a demon?”

Natharius drinks instead of answering my question.

I narrow my eyes, silently willing the answer from his lips.

“I was mortal a millennium ago,” he replies. “I do not remember such trifling matters.”

“If you say so.”

“I was the High Enchanter of Lumaria, and the son of King Vastiros Thalanor. Why would someone of my station experience loneliness?”

“With how defensive you are, I’m becoming convinced that you were a very lonely moon elf.”

“I wasn’t lonely. I merely did not see the point of wasting time with others. Books are far better company.”

“All right,” I reply. “From the sound of things, you definitely weren’t a lonely moon elf.”

Natharius scowls.

“What’s the Abyss like, anyway?” I ask, ignoring his glare. I only realize now that I’ve yet to ask him that question, though it intrigues me greatly.

“Cold,” he says. “And dead.”

“Like the Ghost Woods?”

“No. In the Ghost Woods, the trees are alive, even if they are diseased by dark magic. In the Abyss, there are no trees. Only illusions of them.”

“Illusionary trees?”

---