by J. J. Lore
“So my will is done, the perpetrators punished, and we elvish folk may return to our tasks and traditions. But before you leave…” She paused and made a minute adjustment to the gold collar at her neck. “I would have you know that in addition to rewarding you with your lives and a safe refuge, I will bestow another gift upon you.”
Lear bowed deeply, his training in protocol taking over. From the corner of his eye he saw Hanna and Garrin awkwardly follow suit. If a royal gave you something as insignificant as a twig, you behaved as if you’d been granted a bounteous estate.
“I faced many choices today, not the least of which was how to reconcile the union of a mortal with a magical being. Or two in this case. It would be foully cruel to force my former warden and troubadour to watch the woman they love age and die as quickly as humans are wont to do. It also seemed cruel to make an elf mortal, even if it were for love.”
Lear went cold. He’d never considered the future with Hanna since he’d assumed it was a blessing out of reach. Now that it was at hand, this hard truth suddenly mattered.
The queen rose and peered down at them as if she might smite them. “I have reached a fair compromise. One part punishment, one part reward, and one part warning for any elf in my realm who might now consider romping with a human. Lear and Garrin, you are now fully mortal, as mortal as Hanna.”
A multitude of gasps ran through the crowd and Lear staggered a bit at the announcement. Death was at hand. Garrin blinked and faltered a bit on his feet. Hanna circled her arm around his waist as if to hold him up.
“No longer will you have a millennia of life before you before you take the Silver Ship to the Western Sea to join our departed ancestors.” The queen turned to leave the chamber but paused and narrowed her eyes at them. “Nor will Hanna live only a few decades longer. You will retain your abilities, both mundane and magical. I bestow upon you all good health, longevity and, when the time comes, an easy passage to the dark on the other side of the mortal coil.”
She made a flicking gesture and Lear’s body shivered uncontrollably as his strength fled. He staggered and would have fallen if not for the support of Hanna, who also seemed to be holding up Garrin. His mate had gone pale and raised shaking hands to his face as if he expected to find his features altered. Lear’s ears roared and his gut burned as the queen’s spell overtook him and stripped away all the inherited charms and enchantments lending him immortality. Something he’d taken for granted had been lost, and tears prickled at his eyes. Hanna peered at him anxiously, then turned to Garrin to cup her hand against his cheek.
“I’m so sorry. It’s too much to give up. Can’t we please ask for her to restore you? I’d give my life if it would sway her.” Hanna’s voice rose in a sobbing keen and Lear fought through the disorientation to grasp at her hand and stay her grief.
“No, love. This is the best future I could have ever foretold.”
“For me as well,” Garrin added as he traced his fingers through her tangled hair. “We will be together. It was a dream I never dared hope for and now it’s been delivered to us courtesy of our sovereign.”
“Sovereign no longer,” the queen cut in as she stalked away toward the antechamber door. “You are subjects of King Lynos now and the sooner you attend him and find safety within his kingdom’s borders, the better off you’ll be.”
And with that veiled warning sending cold fear into his heart, Lear gathered his mates around him and made his way from the court of the Queen of the Northern Realm as quickly as he could. He ignored the stares and whispers of the assembled elves. They were his peers no longer. All that mattered was security for Hanna and Garrin. He’d give every bit of his soul to see them well and settled on the warm and welcoming isle that waited for them beyond the mists of lore.
Epilogue
No one knew where the old man Bregot had gone. One day he reclined on his narrow pallet and coughed alongside many others at the sanitarium along the beach, then the next day he had disappeared. Some nurses whispered they’d seen menacing shadows in the night, creeping along the roof and slipping into his room through the narrow window, but a glance at the opening revealed stout iron bars with spaces no wider than a hand’s breadth. A few of the recuperating residents were sure the fellow’s daughter, a young woman from the North who’d taken up his cobbling business, had come to retrieve him. If that were true, why were all his shabby belongings still littering the room? No one could decide the correct answer, but all were in agreement that one old woman’s assertion she’d seen what happened with her own rheumy eyes was patently unbelievable. With a shrill, nearly hysterical voice she declared she’d watched shifty elves hoist the elderly fellow from the room as a lithe young woman followed with a broad smile on her face. A black-and-white cat trotted behind, its tail upraised. The strange party had made their way to the beach under the light of a full moon, and had all boarded a glittering ship that sped away into a fog bank which had suddenly sprung up. The old woman claimed that by the time she’d made her way to the shore, the mist was gone, along with the boat and the passengers within. All that remained of their passage was a confusion of footprints in the sand.
Two elves, a lady, an old man, and a cat? Utter bosh, as anyone with half a brain would know.
The End
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Other Books by J.J. Lore:
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Evernight Publishing
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