Page 14 of The Elven Spymaster's Thief

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Chapter Four

Avril

“Why do they target the fledglings?” I asked.

A week had passed since Troy the gargoyle’s visit. During that time, I had been trying to reconcile the fact that the rough and tumble gargoyle was close friends with the aloof and reserved elf across the table from me. The afternoon light filtered through the library windows. Tracing patterns across the tabletop, it played with the red highlights in the dark brown curls rioting over his forehead. He leaned over the documents on the table before him.

In a surprisingly rare moment of stillness, his hands bracketed the edges of a map. Only the quick movements of his closed eyes and the sharp relief of the tendons standing out on the backs of his elegant hands betrayed his intensity, well, that and the standoffish air about him.

I picked up my eraser. It was a small blob of rubber that Ergon had provided when I asked for writing supplies days ago.

I rubbed my fingertips over the smooth surface.

It wasn’t like it was a pencil. If it hit him, it wouldn’t hurt–much.

I chucked the rubber blob at his head. It bounced off his temple and hit the table with an explosion of tingling elf magic. A mist of green encased the eraser and whipped it at my head. I caught it. For a brief moment, the mist fought my hold before dissipating into nothingness.

“Must you?” he asked without looking up.

“You were ignoring me.” I shifted in my chair, which I had recently learned was his favorite in the library. “I was trying to get your attention.”

“I am always aware of you.” A subtle note of irritation tinged his voice. “Much to my annoyance.” Suddenly straightening, he pinned me with a deadly sharp glare. “What do you want?”

“Why do the invaders into Troy’s eyrie target the fledglings?” I asked, ignoring the strange flutter in my gut that had nothing to do with fear. I liked it when he was intently focused on me, even if it manifested in a glare.

“Easier to subdue.” He arched his brows at me. “Can you see anyone willingly attempting to bring Troy to heel?”

“No.” The gargoyle would tear them to pieces first.

“Besides that, the young are easier to bind in a way that prevents them from breaking away later when they are full grown.”

“But why keep them?”

He studied my face. “Magus lamias capture naturally magical species for only one thing: draining. They capture their victims, bind them so they cannot access their magic, and siphon off the victim’s magic. Imagine someone scraping your soul from your body one razor-thin layer at a time. It causes excruciating agony.”

A wave of horror followed by nausea passed over me.

“You didn’t know?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Grimore had never let me go on a raid on a magus’ stronghold. He only assigned me to scouting missions.” I shivered. “How do we stop them, these magic vampyres?”

“That is easier said than done.”

“What has been done already?” I asked, rolling the eraser between my fingers. “Are they centralized? What are their defenses?” I leaned forward in my eagerness. “What about their weaknesses? They must have weaknesses.”

Something in his extraordinary eyes shifted, and the color warmed to be greener and less silver. “They do.”

“They do what?” I demanded.

“They do have weaknesses and defenses. No, they are not centralized, which is the biggest part of our problems of late. They are multiplying out of nowhere, and we can’t figure out how.”

“And what has been done?”

“It would be simpler to specify what we have not done. We have been fighting this war for centuries, and we are losing.” Grief slipped through his mask, pulling at his fine mouth and causing him to close his eyes as though to block out the emotional impact of the war. “They have only just begun targeting gargoyles, which means they are growing bolder.”

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