Damor pushed Ylantri’s hair out of her face. His spies had brought her to him before anyone could see her true form. He had known she’d eventually get herself into trouble, and so he’d made preparations. He had two elves following her everywhere she went—and he’d paid them handsomely for their loyalty. In return, they agreed to bring her to Damor should anything befall her.
He’d taken up residence with Queen Ambrielle’s camp just inside the barrier. He would have preferred to be back on the boat moored on the western coast of Doros, where food was aplenty and facilities were cleaner. But he needed to stay close to Ylantri in case she got into trouble.
It had happened sooner than he’d anticipated.
After placing Ylantri in his tent, the two elves had gone off to inform the queen that her chief healer had fallen ill, and Damor would attend to her. He asked them to tell the queen he would need to be in isolation with Ylantri until she was cured and able to return to her work.
It was the perfect cover. The queen wouldn’t risk her own exposure, and when Damor successfully healed Ylantri, it would also make him all the more valuable. In the meantime, Damor would get what he wanted from Ylantri: knowledge. Whatever she was, he wanted to learn about it.
Now he sat back on his heels, watching her with a curious gaze. Her blond hair seemed to pulse in the candlelight, switching between the golden rays of dawn and the blackness of a star-free night. Her skin, normally so opalescent, revealed the veins pulsing with blood.
Ylantri wasn’t like other elves, and despite all the years of study Damor had done, this abnormality was alien to him. She was special. He wanted to know why.
Ylantri moaned, her lips parting slightly, her body shuddering. As fast as it had happened, she quieted again. Her hair was now all black, no longer shifting between the two.
Damor picked up a cup of lukewarm water and dribbled a few drops onto her lips—just as Maysant had done for him when he was on the brink of death. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. Before then, he would have had no idea what it took to nurse someone back to health. He supposed he had to admit that Maysant had taught him something. His whole life he’d concentrated on power, caring little for those who were weak or dying. Now he was pleased to have the skills.
Ylantri would survive. She would be grateful to him. She would share her secrets.
And if not? It wouldn’t take much for Damor to send her right back to the gods of death. No one would be the wiser. Damor would get what he wanted, or Ylantri would pay the ultimate price.
He struggled to tear a strip of cloth from a rag. Cursing his weakness, he grabbed a knife and slashed holes in the fabric, enough to make it easier to tear. He wadded up the remnant, dipped it in the water, squeezed out the excess, and laid it on Ylantri’s forehead. He pressed gently, just as Maysant had done for him.
“Ylantri?”
Her lips parted, and she exhaled what sounded like, “Help.”
Damor leaned in closer. “I’m here. The human mage who serves your queen. Come back to me, Ylantri.”
Her eyelids snapped open, her eyes darting wildly. “You must stop them.” Her voice crackled in her throat as she thrust the words out between her lips.
“Stop who?” Damor asked.
“Drothu. He will kill us all.”
Damor grimaced. They all thought they knew about Drothu. They knew nothing about Drothu’s true nature.
“Elves don’t believe in Drothu,” he said softly. He wanted her to come around fully. She was delirious. But not from the infection. No, she didn’t have the same symptoms. Ylantri had overworked herself and passed out. The old woman, Hilthe, had said as much to the two elves who’d collected Ylantri from the dead orc’s tent.
Ylantri’s eyes focused on Damor’s. “I am no normal elf,” she said. “But you know that, don’t you, mage?” She smiled with a cruel curve of her lips. “But you don’t know what I am. That much is clear.”
For a moment, Damor considered killing her on the spot. She was rude. Impudent. He’d brought her back from whatever ailed her, and she was toying with him instead of thanking him.
Then her eyes grew dark. “You know more than you should, though. Far too much.” She parted her lips and raised her head slowly until she was only a breath away from Damor.
He held steady, curious at what game she was playing. If she thought to ply him with sexual advances, she’d quickly be surprised to find out he couldn’t comply, even if he wanted to.
Instead, Ylantri took in a deep breath, her eyes locked on his the whole time.
Damor held still, curious at her strange method of seduction. Perhaps this was an elf custom he was unfamiliar with. Sexual prowess wasn’t his strong suit.
Ylantri’s eyes grew wide with surprise. She clamped her mouth shut, then pulled back from him. “You have no soul,” she said. “All living beings have a soul.”
Damor shuddered. Why was she looking for his soul?
“What are you?” Ylantri asked, fear shining in her eyes.
“First, tell me what you are,” Damor said, irritated. Ylantri had uncovered his darkest secret; he needed to regain the upper hand. “Then perhaps I’ll tell you a story about my soul.”
Ylantri’s fear quickly turned to annoyance. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“You’re not leaving my tent until you do. Besides, I doubt you want anyone to see you right now. I have a feeling you’ll stay right here until you’ve regained whatever power you recently lost.” Damor held a looking glass in front of Ylantri.
She gasped, her hands running through her black hair. “Who else saw me like this?”
“No one. You didn’t change until after you’d arrived at my tent. You’re safe with me.”
“I doubt that.”
Ylantri closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them again, she grabbed the looking glass from Damor. Her appearance hadn’t changed.
“Tell me,” Damor said. “I swear I won’t share the knowledge with anyone.”
Ylantri laughed. “Of course you won’t. You’ll use it against me. I won’t be controlled. Not by anyone, especially not by a soulless human.”
“Then it appears we are at an impasse,” Damor said. “Maybe we can come to an arrangement.”
Ylantri sighed. “Fine. I will tell you about me, but only if you first tell me how you exist without a soul.”
“Very well.” Damor prepared to tell her the same lie he’d told many others over the years. She wouldn’t understand, or believe, the truth. No one would.