Page 50 of The Elven Spymaster's Thief

“Is this normal?” I asked.

Illeron was already examining a new map. “What?”

“Dead on his feet. Lacking sleep.”

“He struggles with sleeping at times of high stress.” Illeron paused and glanced at me over the top of the map, green eyes darkening. “I didn’t notice this time. Thank you for pointing it out.”

“I am sorry that I am causing such difficulty.”

Illeron dropped his map. It missed the table’s edge and fell to the floor. He ignored it, stalking around the table to stand above me. He pulled my chair around to face him so that I had to crane my neck to meet his dark gaze beneath his lowered brows. “What do you mean by that?”

“You are going through so much effort to protect me. I am sorry to be the cause of all the hassle.”

He began shaking his head before I had even finished my apology. “There is nothing to apologize for. We have discovered a leak in my network that I had no inkling existed. I owe you because of this, not the other way around.”

“But you are working so hard to keep me alive.”

“Life is precious.” The silver in his gaze flared briefly. “Yours is doubly so. This is no hassle.” He knelt before me so I no longer had to crane my neck. “No foolish sacrifices.”

I nodded. “I am not planning any.”

“Good.” He leaned in, grazing my cheek with a breath-like kiss before withdrawing.

“Master Whispier?” Chislon had returned.

As Illeron turned to begin training his new assistant, I picked up my book from my lap. But I didn’t read. My thoughts were too full already.

∞∞∞

Chapter Fourteen

Avril

Aweek passed. Chislon settled in and quickly grew comfortable enough to argue with Illeron, which I saw as a good sign. The two elves would discuss the reports, debate the possible meanings, and compile lists of actions that needed to be taken. I spent hours listening to them.

“The woodwose will be decimated!” Chislon protested. “The warlords are better armed and better prepared.”

“Are you sure about that?” Illeron demanded as he threw himself into his chair with a self-assured air. He glanced over at me. I lowered my eyes to my book again, but my ears were tuned into the argument.

“Yes! The woodwose are peaceful. Most of them are healers, farmers, and craftsmen—not warriors.”

“That is where you are wrong. All of them are trained to fight from an early age. They learned centuries ago that their peaceful reputation makes them a target.” Illeron picked up an eraser from the table and began fingering it.

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t warn them,” Chislon protested.

“I did, weeks ago.”

“Or try to stop the warlords from attacking.”

“Ah!” Illeron flung the eraser across the room, so it bounced off the wall. “Now there is the rub.”

Chislon stared at him in complete confusion. “What?”

“What can we do to stop the warlords from attacking the woodwose?”

“Negotiation?”

“I tried that. The warlords want their land and resources and refuse to discuss anything less than a full surrender of all of it.”

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