The Sinuous Bargain of a Cowardly Prince (book 1) - undergoing edits

Chapter Three - Ether | edited |

Thank Aldorin, it has started to rain. The soft thuds of droplets hit the quenched ground like doses of medicine, bringing life back to the forest.

I smile as the petrichor hangs in the air, fresh and humid and wet. A chill rings off the impact of each raindrop, and it takes everything in me not to join the young elven children scurrying about to worship the gift from the heavens.

My eyes flash back to my knife, sturdy in my calloused hand. I made the flintknapped blade myself from obsidian—the dark, glassy blade refuses to reflect anything, instead sucking in the light around it. It's not alive, but in my hands it feels as though it has a heartbeat, pulsing with the magic I've released into it.

Outside my stone hut, children dance in the mud, the rain growing heavier to provide the drum beat to their ritual. Their bare feet squish and slide, and whenever one falls, they help each other up.

The children do not laugh, for they know that releasing a giggle would result in their immediate deaths or arrests. The law against laughter had been decreed many years ago, and applied specifically to elves; my guess is as good as anyone's why such a thing would be outlawed. But as with our curses, we find ways to work around the law: the children make a joyous clamor with their hands, slapping them in the air and smiling with sparkling fanged teeth. Their pleasure is visible in their grins, in their glowing golden eyes.

Pluto, a sunshine-haired elf knocks his knuckle on the arched entrance of my stone haven, interrupting my view of the youths. His pale skin is flecked with crystal water droplets from the trek to my hut. His ears, like mine, are arrow-shaped and decorated with ebony piercings which dot along the smooth, curved cartilage.

I nod for him to enter, and he sits next to me. We both watch with bated breath, waiting for one of the children to let loose a giggle or cackle, forcing us to protect them from whatever beast is lurking, perhaps a messenger or traitor ordered to inflict punishment for their "wrongdoing."

I shift my knife to my other hand and rub my thumb along the shiny surface.

"Glad for the rain," he says flatly. He squints at the dancing children, and something disapproving flashes in his currently deep blue irises. "It's unfortunate we can't enjoy it for ourselves."

My thumb goes still on the blade as I turn to face the straw-haired elf. "You don't truly mean that." He averts his gaze. I angle the knife at the opening of my hut and sigh. "We are unlike the younger generation; we were not raised around this suffocating law. We are not used to it." If we were to enjoy the forest's natural gifts, our emotions would betray us to the mercy of whatever arbiter the king ordered to do his bidding. Our training limits us to protecting the young, which means avoiding all things fun.

Pluto frowns, but he doesn't say anything. Something familiar passes between us; a mutual understanding that doesn't require words. His bony, pale hand curls around mine, cold.

Others in our age group watch the children from their huts, bodies trained to pounce on any threat to Nwatalith, our little village. Allowing the kids to play like this flavors my tongue with bitterness; it's as though we are using them as bait, to catch predators. Should they produce joyful melodies with their laughter, we can practice our long-dormant warrior instincts on whoever has their eyes on them. Gods know we're starved of such an opportunity.

More often than not, we hunt creatures of the Aldorin wood for sport rather than for the protection of our young. Those monsters do taste good, and their magical centers—their Eluviam—strengthen our cores as good as any mortal supplement. Above protecting the vulnerable, most of us desire that power for ourselves.

I glance at my blade again, at the slight warmth it radiates and the tinge of red that glows deep within. I'd given it some of my own energy in addition to the Eluviam of the dragon egg I'd scavenged a few weeks back. I'd transferred it then with a cool brush of my fingers, but it takes a lot to make a weapon both invincible and lethal. My blade's magic energy was already fading away. I sigh, returning my focus to the spotted rays of sun shimmering off the slowing raindrops.