He felt his chest tighten and his fists clenched at his sides as she talked about having a husband and the possessive feeling that he was growing accustomed to rushed through him. “What about a soul mate?” he questioned. The growl in his voice had her eyes snapping up to his face and widening slightly.

She stared at him silently for a few seconds. He watched her face carefully, trying to get a read on what it was she was thinking and feeling. They were still so new to each other, and he still had so much to learn about her.

“I suppose a soul mate would do,” she said nonchalantly.

He growled as he lifted her chin up so he could fully see her face. “I will marry you if that is what you need of me. I will do whatever human ritual you need in order for you to feel I’ve bound myself to you, but you need to know this, Little Raven, the moment our souls connected I was yours. And if there were no such things as Chosens, or soul mates, you would have captivated me still.”

Elora’s lips parted as the breath rushed out of her as if she had been punched in the gut. “Wow,” she rasped, “that was totally book worthy.”

He titled his head to the side. “What?”

She grinned. “You’re little speech. It was worthy of being in one of those romance novels where the hero is so swoon worthy that even other males drool over him.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not,” he admitted.

She cleared her throat and brushed her hair back from her face. “Oh, believe me, it is.” She let out a deep sigh and rubbed her face wearily. “So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what do we do now? We’re obviously not going to act on my darker impulses, despite your big talk,” she teased. “So what are we going to do between now and the meeting thing, which I am going to by the way.” She held up her hand as he started to argue. “Unless you really are going to tie me to the damn bed, I’m going, so save your breath, you won’t win this one elf boy.”

Cush crossed his arms across his chest as he looked down at her. “Are you always this dramatic?”

Elora chuckled as she sat back down on the couch and wiggled around until she was comfortable. “Can I blame it on my dark side?”

He sat down next to her and pulled her legs up onto his lap. “Might as well, I have a feeling you’ll be blaming as much as you can on it.” His head jerked to the side as he felt something wet in his ear. His eyes narrowed on her as she held up the finger she had just licked and then stuck in his ear.

She shrugged and grinned wickedly. “My dark side made me do it.”

Chapter 10

“Where there is civilization, there is war. The very idea of civilization is a contradiction. When beings, whether human, elfin, or other gather in one place to set up a society, there will always be conflict. There will always be those more intent on seeing their own will imposed on others rather than sacrificing themselves for what is best for thewhole. Though this might cause some to become hopeless, there are those who will be spurred on to seek peace. These are the remnant, the ones who refuse to let evil prevail.” ~Forest Lords

“You’ve taken a great risk to meet with me,” Myrin told the light-elf king.

Tamsin chuckled with a wolfish smile. “It is only a great risk if I feared for my safety old one.”

“You have no way of knowing where my loyalties lie,” the elder pointed out.

“You care for Trik and you know what the ancient texts say. Unless you are a fool, I imagine you have figured out who will come out the victor in the coming battle.”

“You never have been one to mince words,” Myrin retorted.

“We are on the brink of a civil war. I do not have time to mince words,” Tamsin said with a sharp look.

Myrin’s eyes met his and the centuries of history between the two elves suddenly seemed so very insignificant. “How is he?” Myrin finally asked.

“He’s as arrogant as ever,” Tamsin laughed with the elder, “but he has her, and she brings out the best in him.”

“She must be very special.”

Tamsin nodded. “She is, but then so is Triktapic, even if he is as annoying as a paper cut with salt being poured on it.”

“Does he know that you share such affection for him?” Myrin asked.

“Believe me, it’s mutual.” Tamsin paused and then let out the breath he’d been holding since he entered Sanctuary. “Do you know any of his plans?”

“Lorsan no longer confides in any of the elders. Since Triktapic left, he trusts only his Chosen.”

Tamsin’s brow furrowed as he considered the elder’s words. “How many of the elders are loyal to him?”

“They fear him; they are not loyal to him.”

“Fear can be a very big motivator,” Tamsin countered.

Myrin stood from the table and pulled the hood of his cloak back up over his head. As he turned to go, he met Tamsin’s eyes. “True, but there is something that is an even greater motivator than fear,” he paused and looked around the dark, nearly empty room, which was usually filled with loud music and writhing bodies. His eyes took on the look of one remembering another time—a happier time. “Hope, Tamsin. Hope is greater than fear. If Trik can give them hope, he will have their loyalty.”

Tamsin watched as the elder slipped away into the dark room. He had come hoping to get information; instead all he got were more questions. He wondered if Trik would ever truly have the loyalty of any of the dark elves. They were a race built on self-indulgence and chaos. They thrived by hiding in the shadows. Now the protective cover of darkness was about to be ripped from their lives. Their deeds, their ways, would be laid bare for all to see. Can there be redemption for one such as these? He hoped so; he truly did, for the sake of the dark elves and for the sake of his new king.