Page 24 of The Elven Spymaster's Thief

“For all of your professed aversion to elves, you are growing far too comfortable around me,” I informed her.

She didn’t respond. Her breathing settled into a rhythm that I instinctively knew was too fast. Striding back into my study, I crossed to the one upholstered piece of furniture in the room, an elegant chaise that had been my mother’s. Easing Avril onto it, I arranged her so that she lay flat, and I could assess her.

Her sun-kissed skin was unnaturally pale, her lips were slightly blue-tinged, and I didn’t like the limpness of her limbs. Healthy people didn’t fall so deeply asleep so quickly. Claiming her wrist, I checked her pulse. The frantic flutter against my fingertips did nothing to soothe my growing worry.

Accessing my healing ability, I tapped into the spells my mother had taught me. The foremost healer among our kind, she had been the one everyone sought out when cases were complicated. I believed Avril’s issue was simple blood loss, but that didn’t make treating it any easier. Especially since I suspected she would fight me at every turn. The only other option was a donation of appropriate human blood, but I had no access or means to offer that to her.

I did what I could. Despite her slightly elevated pulse, it became steady. Her breathing remained regular. My healing senses couldn’t find anything more to fix within her. Healing frequently took time and patience. The time I could provide. Patience would be harder to convince her to practice.

“No training for you tomorrow,” I whispered to her as I smoothed stray auburn strands away from her closed eyes. “Rest and good food.” Rising, I crossed to the door into my bedchamber. Fetching the thick fleece throw from the end of my bed, I returned to the study and lay it over my sleeping companion.

She didn’t stir but slept on.

Retreating to the table, I plucked at my magical filing system and pulled forth my reports. Thankfully, I had a few hours of work to keep me occupied while I watched over her.

The situation at the border between the warlords Batair, Cathral, and the woodwose was far worse than I feared. The more information I gathered, the grimmer it looked. No amount of subtle manipulation would stop the inevitable war between the northern human warlords and their generally peaceful neighbors. The question was if I should try to stop it. Was it worth the risk of exposing my network? Would it destroy my connections and alliances with the other warlords? Dare I risk it?

The elves had not actively and openly acted in the affairs of the humans on a large scale for at least a century, a time of peace for my people. Initially, we feared creating more power-hungry humans desperate enough to seek unethical ways to gain magic. By withdrawing from them, we limited their access to our knowledge, skills, and us.

Humans had no natural magic. Unlike the other dominant and non-dominant species populating our world since the mass exodus from fairy an eon ago, humans depended on different skills to survive. Perceptive and instinctively interactive, humans thrived on connections, maintaining, using, and growing relationships between themselves and others. While my people were obsessive about balance, power, knowledge, and contracts, humans could be sacrificial in their decisions, even for those who were not family, even for those who did not have a hold over them. It was almost a universal species trait. The exceptions were rarer than a gargoyle who wasn’t worried about the security of his eyrie or a brownie who didn’t care about her home. Those types did appear among populations, but they were so rare that the general stereotype held true over ninety percent of the time.

I glanced over at the still form on my chaise lounge. Avril had curled to her side, pulled my throw up to her chin, and tucked in her feet. Only her face from the nose up and a cascade of loosely braided hair were visible. The auburn strands caught the sunlight, glowing fire and hinting at the spark in the woman they belonged to.

When Fairy became a wasteland, the humans welcomed us into their territory, at least initially. They offered land and resources and negotiated peace between the myriad species of the fae. In return, our peoples had offered healing potions, tools with magical properties, and other by-products of our natural magic. The borders between our new territories stood where they were because of those first human negotiators. It only took a few decades before we all grew greedy. Elves wanted power, the gargoyles wanted isolation, and the humans wanted more land because they multiplied thanks to their improved health. Oh, and they wanted magic.

The first magus lamia discovered that humans could gain the capability to use the magic of others. Then a century after the exodus, one learned how to drain a fae’s magic and store it. They didn’t care that the process tortured the victim and eventually killed them. We couldn’t live without our natural magic, just like a human can’t live without oxygen.

I grimaced. How I wished that hadn't been discovered.

Every human became suspected of either being a magus or allied with one. Species with natural magic held humans at a distance, suspicious of their motives and intentions. We retreated behind our borders, protecting ourselves. By doing so, we failed to help those who were attempting to stop the villains. The humans fought among themselves. A civil war split their region down the middle. The threat was isolated to the west. The remaining population struggled to survive. Meanwhile, the cancer grew.

Avril stirred on the chaise. My senses instinctively heightened. Acutely aware of her, I listened for her breathing. A strand of hair fluttered against her lips and subsided at regular intervals. I resisted the urge to rise, to physically check that she was well.

Not all humans were bad. Many of my people had forgotten that fact over the centuries. Perhaps it was our longevity and matching memories or our instinctive suspicion of everyone. Still, as a species, we tended to look down on humans. They were annoying, fragile, short-lived, and aggressive.

I watched Avril sleep for a moment. Humans, for all their flaws, possessed many virtues that Elves could benefit from learning. Loyalty, honesty, integrity, and vulnerability were the first to come to mind. Also, for all their fragility, they were surprisingly tenacious.

A gentle tap at the study door made me straighten guiltily. It wouldn’t do for me to be caught watching my pet sleep. Rising, I silently crossed the room and opened the door.

Ergon stood outside. “Where do you want me to serve lunch?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the mound of fleece on my mother’s chaise. “Here. I will wake her if necessary. She needs to eat.”

“And drink.”

I nodded, and Ergon left.

Before she woke, though, I had one task to accomplish. I checked that Avril still slept soundly before stepping out into the corridor again. Summoning Odon with a twist of magic, I waited for him to appear.

“Master,” he whispered as he melted out of the shadows.

“I have a top-secret mission for you.”

Odon didn’t even blink. “Not a word.”

“None. Not even with your fellow shadow elves. I will speak to Casimir only. He will adjust your orders accordingly.”

He nodded.

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