Page 34 of The Elven Spymaster's Thief

“I am going to go train.” He reached for his gear bag again.

“I should probably go find Whispier.”

Solon snorted. “Right, you have a position now and a duty to keep him company.”

“I am his companion.”

Solon waved me off with a grimace. He clearly wasn’t happy about the arrangement, but there was nothing he could do about it. I had committed myself, and I was determined to see it through. Besides, the spell agreement bound me.

Slipping out into the corridor, I headed toward the library only to be waylaid by a shadow elf. He materialized in the shade of a giant fern against the wall farther down the hallway. His coppery skin was marked by scars, and the dark hair falling about his ears was highlighted with silver strands. He turned to regard me with golden-toned eyes that glowed slightly.

“Mistress Avril.” He greeted me with a gravelly tone.

“Master elf,” I replied as I had done to every elf I could not name when they greeted me. I continued to walk past him.

“If I could speak with you?”

“Of course.” I motioned for him to come closer, but he didn’t immediately join me. Turning to look over my shoulder, I glimpsed an expression I had never seen on an elven face. He was nervous. I stopped and turned to face him. “I am listening.”

His eyes lightened as a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth hinted at a smile. “As you may know, shadow elves are different than light elves.”

A small laugh escaped me. “I know very little of your kind. Aside from the obvious differences, I am in the dark on many aspects of your species.” I met his serious regard with a warm smile. “However, I am eager to learn.”

The skin of his cheeks flushed a slightly deeper tone. “Unlike light elves, shadow elves have an instinctive reaction to females, one particular female. It only happens once in our lifetime, as far as we know. For lack of a better way of describing it, we know within moments of meeting someone that they are our match.”

“Sounds life-changing,” I studied the large male in front of me.

He nodded gravely. “As far back as our recorded history, this has only happened between an elven male and female.” He paused.

“But?” I prompted, already fearing his next words.

“If it should happen between an elf and a human, how would a human female respond to—” He swallowed. “Should an elf declare himself to a human, would she be open to the possibility of such a commitment?” He searched my features. The vulnerability in his eyes contrasted sharply with his stoic expression.

“It depends on the woman. Should that happen, I would recommend the elf go slowly. Humans who believe in instantaneous attachment are few and far between. Should the woman not be one of those, she will require very gentle convincing.”

He nodded slowly. “But there would still be hope?”

“Yes, I would guess so.” As I studied the fearsome and hardened warrior before me, I couldn’t help wishing to meet the woman who had captured his heart. “Do light elves have quirks of their own that they don’t share with shadow elves?”

“They are obsessed with truth and knowledge.” He quirked an eyebrow. “We are a race of strong emotions, but our lighter brothers tend to be more open in their expression of them. We both prefer forthright dealings when it comes to our familial relationships. They place more emphasis on balance and give and take than we do. Oh, and they are far superior healers than most of us.”

Good to know. I tucked that away for later. “Was there anything else you would like to ask?”

“No, thank you, Lady Avril.” He bowed slightly. “Should you need anything, call on me. I am in your debt.” He stepped into a shadow and was gone before I could point out that he never gave me his name.

Reaching the library doorway without further interruption, I found the door open. Whispier sat at the table in the center of the room, his back to the door. My usual place in what I had come to realize was his favorite chair stood empty. One of the servants had mentioned it in passing while he was cleaning the room when I lingered in there alone.

Whispier’s curly dark head bent over the pages of notes. His broad, solid shoulders filled out the fine blue cotton of his shirt. I admired the line of them as he scribbled something down. How had I ended up here? Solon’s questions had brought up all the complex feelings of the past. My fear of starvation, the grueling fight for respect and courtesy, and Grimore’s distant and almost fatherly affection all crowded for my attention. The sinking feeling over never being good enough followed close behind. My aunt had said I was too loud. My uncle complained that I cost too much. While Solon had been home, his fierce brotherly love had been enough to keep me anchored. But once he left, I had struggled with feeling adrift.

“Have you come to hurl things at my head again?” Whispier asked in a tone that made me smile, despite the melancholy squeezing of my heart. “Do I need to defend myself?” He rose, shuffling through the pages as he did so. Pulling out one from the mess, he flicked it into his magical filing system.

I loved his quiet and expert efficiency. If only the whole world could be so perfectly organized.

“Why do you tolerate me?”

He turned to face me in a slow, liquid movement, almost as though he feared I would spook like a horse. “Why wouldn’t I? You are a delight.” His perceptive green gaze studied my features with concern.

Moisture flooded my eyes. I blinked back the threatening tears. How could one person be so consistently kind? Within moments, he was standing over me. Cradling my face in his hands, Whispier wiped away the few tears that escaped.

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