I realize my answer was the wrong one as Lyana stops in her tracks, her eyes wide. My nostrils flare as the acrid scent of her fear permeates the air. “What other creatures are there, Caelen? Please tell me there aren’t any spiders.”
I blink as I take in our surroundings. Thick webs line the cavern, and beastly, multi-faceted eyes study me in the darkness as several spiders, the size of mountain rats, observe us pass. Walking ahead of her, I’ve been pulling down the webbing as we advance, so she must not have felt it. I do not want her to be afraid, however. “No,” I lie. “We are safe here.”
A heavy sigh of relief escapes her. “Thank the gods. If you had said there were spiders in here, I think I would have had a panic attack and died.”
Alarm sparks through me. “Humans can die from fear?”
“I certainly think so,” she replies, and I swallow nervously.
I eye the spiders with an icy glower, silently warning them to stay away. Though Elves can communicate with animals, simple creatures like these only understand base emotion. So, I threaten them with wrath if they dare cross our paths or touch us. Sensing my warning, the spiders retreat into the rock crevasses.
The acrid scent of her fear is thick in the air. I decide to try to distract her with conversation.
A smile tugs at my lips as her golden-brown eyes meet mine. “I did not know my wife was afraid of rats.”
She narrows her eyes. “It startled me.”
A smirk twists my mouth. “Fortunate for you that you have a tall husband, then, is it not?”
Peeling laughter spills from her lips, and I am completely and utterly enthralled.
Soft light glows in the distance ahead, and I move toward it. When we get closer, I lift my gaze to find a hole in the ceiling. Pale moonlight spills in from above, forming a circle of light on the stone floor.
Mountain spiders hate light, so this is the ideal place to stop for the night. “We should rest here,” I tell her.
As she steps into the circle, she looks up at me. The silvery beams cast her lovely features in an ethereal glow as I study her, completely transfixed.
She regards me a moment before lowering her eyes and nervously tucking a stray tendril of long black hair behind her ear. “We should unpack,” she says.
I clear my throat and nod. I remove my pack and carefully unroll the bedding, laying it down on the floor. I pull out some bread and cheese and a waterskin.
My brows furrow as Lyana extracts her bedroll and places it across from me instead of next to mine. Does she not realize how cold it will be this evening? Even now, the temperature is already dropping.
“I thought we might sleep together this night,” I say.
Her head snaps up and she opens her mouth, but only a slight strangled sound escapes. A pink flush spreads across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “I—I thought we had agreed that our marriage would remain… unconsummated.”
“Oh,” the word leaves my lips in a rush as understanding fills me. “No—not like that,” I quickly reassure her. “I was not referring to joining, I only meant for us to conserve warmth.”
A huff of air escapes her in a nervous laugh. “Oh, thank goodness.”
I’m not sure whether to be offended by her statement or not. I have always been considered rather handsome, even among my own kind. Does she not realize how many High Elf women would have gladly taken me as their mate?
I observe as she moves her bedding next to mine and sits cross-legged before me. We eat in silence as she scrutinizes the space around us. I wonder how much she can actually see beyond the soft light. I had no idea humans had such poorly developed night vision.
I am grateful, however, that she cannot see the several sets of eyes that study us from the shadows. I doubt she’d be able to sleep if she knew.
“I’m glad we found this patch of light,” she murmurs. “I’ve always hated the dark.”
I arch a brow. “Fortunate for you that you did not marry a Dwarf or a Dark Elf, then,” I tease. “Or else you’d be making your home deep in the mountains.”
She laughs—the sound light and airy like chimes and completely enchanting. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She grins. “And what sort of home does a High Elf live in?”
“Any High Elf, or me?” I ask, a smile tugging at my mouth.
“Both,” she replies, her expression one of curiosity.
“Why? Do you plan on running away with one of my guards, or perhaps even a farmer, when we arrive?” I tease her again. “It would be quite a scandal if my mate ran off with another.”
She laughs. “Is it not scandal enough that you wed a human?”
I arch a brow. “It is not as strange as you might think. Our kind used to intermarry all the time before the last Great War.”
Her expression sobers. “You gave me your blood when I was injured. Bran said this is how High Elf Lords used to extend the lives of their human mates to match their own.”
“This is true,” I reply solemnly.
Her small brow furrows softly. “You’ve saved me twice now, Caelen.”
I understand the question she does not ask, because it is one that I, myself, have wondered. At the time, I acted upon instinct. She was fading and I could not stand by and watch her die. Something about her calls to me. As if our souls are somehow connected, but I do not understand why.
Rather than tell her this, I offer a half-truth instead. “I swore an oath to you the day we met. I gave you a knife with my blood. Such a vow is not given lightly. It is sacred among my kind.”
“You swore to protect me and to never harm me, Caelen. What you did goes far beyond that.”
I meet her gaze evenly. “If you are asking if I regret sharing part of my life force with you, I do not. My vows to you were binding and I hold to them still.”
