“For years, Gods and Elder Dragons fought for control over the mortal realms. The first of the Elves, seeking shelter from the carnage and butchery the world had descended into, entered the last of the Great Forests.”

Chapter 40

“Is that why you were quiet earlier, you were worrying about your mother?” Wil asked as he placed a pot of cold water over the fire to make tea.

“No, I know she’s fine. I’m just a bit homesick, I guess. You know how it is, being so far away from home. It just makes me miss certain things, like my mother’s cooking.” She said, pointing towards the soup.

Wil shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t relate. I’ve never felt homesick.”

“You’ve never missed home before? Felt that…longing for somewhere?” She said, surprised at Wil.

“The only thing I’ve felt since I’ve left home is relief at being away.” He said as he added tea leaves to the now boiling pot. “As for longing? I longed to be as far away from there as possible.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize” she said, before Wil cut her off with a shrug.

“It’s fine.”

“So, you were saying something earlier about simple-minded bigots? Does your family have a hard time in Essen? I thought most people are welcoming of half-elves, or at least tolerant.” He said, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Mara.

“They are. Most don’t even know about it unless her ears are showing. When people find out, they’re usually fairly good, except for a few superstitious farmers thinking that she’ll curse the harvest or charm their sons away.” She snorted at the ridiculous claim.

Wil laughed at that comment, thinking of young men trying to explain why they were staring at the beautiful half elven woman to their wives and blaming Elven magic.

“I guess I’m more upset at the Elves. They won’t even acknowledge that Half Elves even exist! My mother doesn’t talk about it, but I know she tried to contact the elves before. She was trying to get to know her father’s family, I guess. The Elves blocked her at the border, saying that her kind had no place there!” She exclaimed, before taking a sip of tea to try and calm herself.

Wil leaned back against the wagon, putting one of his boots on top of the other to relax. He took a sip of tea as well. “Have you ever met an Elf before?” He inquired.

“Of course not.” She scoffed. “They rarely leave their homeland, and I heard they kill any human who tries to enter Elvenhome without their permission. Have you?”

Wil nodded, “I visited Elvenhome when I was young. My father brought me. They were signing a treaty or some such thing. It was all rather boring to be honest. Nothing to see but Elves and trees” Wil shrugged, continuing to drink his tea.

“What were they like?” She asked, eager to hear about them.

“They lived up to the stereotypes.” Wil paused, before continuing. “Believe me, your mother is better off not knowing her people. They aren’t a very…welcoming people.”

Mara had her head lowered, disappointed by his words.

“Every elf I met, and I’ve seen quite a few, are tall, beautiful and absolutely saturated in Mana. It’s like they are made of it. It’s one of the reasons Noble families were desperate to introduce Elven blood to their lineage.” Wil explained.

“And did it work? Improve the bloodlines I mean.” She asked, curious.

“Not really, no. It took a few generations before most of the nobles gave up trying. But not before most of the lines had some elven ancestry. I read about it once, at the Academy.” Wil paused, trying to remember what he had read.

“In humans, about one in a few hundred can use Mana. Magic users are about one in a few thousand. Overall, it’s rare in Illyria for someone to have magical talent, the ability to cast spells.”

“But in the Elven race, every single Elf is prodigiously talented in magic. They don’t even need to use a spell matrix, the Mana just does as they command it to.”

“The theory was, if humans could introduce the Elven talent into their bloodlines, then all their children would carry that same talent down through the line.” Wil finished, taking another sip of tea.

“They were wrong. Mum can use a little magic, nothing like what you can do. But I can’t even light a candle with it.” Mara said, shaking her head at the noble’s foolishness.

“You’re right, the talent doesn’t carry much down the bloodline.” Wil agreed.

“Is that why the Elves don’t like humans? Because people were trying to marry them for their talent?” Mara asked.

Wil scoffed, “Of course not! Elves detested Humans from the first moment they met us, and this intermingling didn’t happen until hundreds of years afterwards.”

“Then why? Why do they hate my mother so much?” Mara asked, tears in her eyes.

Wil shook his head, not really knowing the answer. “I assume there are a lot of reasons. Elves live for hundreds of years, are impossibly beautiful and magically gifted. They built large cities and forged powerful magical weapons when humans were struggling to smash Goblin heads in with rocks.”

“They probably think of us the same way we think of those Bugbears we fought. Dirty savages not worthy of their attention.”

“You will find the occasional Elf, out for an adventure and some fun who will spend some time with a human, that’s how most of the half Elves come to be. But an Elf would never accept marrying a human or letting a part human offspring into their families.”

“When I visited Elvenhome, I heard one of them call the Emperor, The Emperor mind you! A ‘dirty barbarian warlord over a small, primitive tribe.’ And they acted like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to say to him!”

Before Mara could respond to the statement, Quentin came through the canvas flap that covered the shelter. Her face was red from the cold. She scowled at them both as they sat around the fire.

“I should have known! Everyone else is out in the cold, struggling to get us out of here, and you’re here relaxing by the fire!” She said, stomping over to Wil and putting her hands towards the flames to warm them.

“Tea?” Wil said, grinning as he held up a steaming cup to Quentin. Scowling, she quickly grabbed the cup, grateful for the warm tea as she drank it swiftly.

“You’ll be happy to know that we should have the bridge clear within the hour, no thanks to you.” She sat down on a stool next to Wil, who poured more tea into her now empty cup.

“I want you to know how much I appreciate your hard work. You have no idea how much I suffered, thinking about you out in that dreadful cold. I could barely sit still!” Wil said, his grin growing wider.

“I bet you did.” Quentin said sarcastically. “Mara, I need you to find Bell and assist him with gathering everyone together. I want them ready to move within the hour.” She said, looking at Mara over her cup of tea.

“Yes Ma’am.” Mara said, hopping to her feet and rushing out into the storm.

Quentin immediately turned towards Wil, punching him hard in the arm as soon as Mara was out of sight.

“Hey! What was that for?” Wil yelped, grabbing his injured arm.

“I’m out there working, and you’re in here flirting!” She said, trying to punch him again as he attempted to fend her off.

“I wasn’t flirting! She was just making us soup. She offered to cook, and it would have been rude of me to turn her down.”

“I’m sure she had to twist your arm. Spending time with a pretty woman, by a warm fire. Don’t you have it easy?” She huffed, turning away from him.

Wil shook his head, his expression turning serious for a moment. “She’s homesick, and I don’t think she wanted to open up to Bell about it. I was being a good friend.”

“Well…that’s good, if it’s only friendship you’re interested in. I won’t have you flirting and cavorting with my employees, Lord Brookmoor.” She said primely, shaking a finger at him as she spoke.

“I’ll have you know I don’t ‘cavort’, at least not when it’s snowing.” He said, standing up and ladling a bowl of soup for Quentin. He passed the full bowl to her, before starting to walk towards the shelters exit.

“Are you going out to help Bell as well?” She asked, surprised that he was showing initiative.

“Of course not!’ Wil scoffed at the notion. “I drank too much tea! I’ll be right back to flirt with you, since your employees are off limits, Miss Merchant!” Wil said, waving his hand at her while walking away.

His back was turned, so he didn’t see a smile make its way onto Annabelle Quentin’s beautiful face.