Page 135 of Aryn

Lillith chuckles, shooting Ronan a sidelong glance that says she noticed, too. “It’s cute that you let him spoil you, Cato,” she says through a bite.

Cato flushes and grips his fork like he needs to prove he can feed himself, but he doesn’t stop me when I offer him another bite. The food is excellent. It feels like I’ve fallen back in time, tasting spices I haven’t had in a century and hearing the rolling murmur of Elyrian conversations floating from nearby tables.

Once he finishes his breakfast, Galdren glances past our group to wave someone forward. “I have business to attend this morning while we clear the Vaelor’s schedule. Rhael is the son of our City Watch captain, and since he’s fluent in your language, I thought he’d be the perfect guide. He’ll show you around the castle while you wait.”

A young Elduin steps forward with a stunning smile, and I clench my jaw as I remember Cato with Lirien at the bonfire. He must be thinking the same thing, because he squeezes my hand.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he whispers in my ear.

I glare, then turn back to inspect Rhael. His skin is rich teal and his eyes are pale, almost pearly around his wide pupils. A long silver braid falls down his back, but it’s not sleek and smooth like the guards. It’s loose, with hairs popping out everywhere and strands hanging over his forehead. Hooped earrings form a ladder up his pointed ears, and a delicate silver chain hangs between the two on his forward helix, draping over the bridge of his nose. Two more studs sit underneath his lower lip.

His uniform is simple black hide like the soldiers, but he doesn’t carry a weapon. He moves to stand by Galdren, swinging his hips with graceful steps. Elduin aren’t large by nature. They have an affinity for water, and the old stories say they evolved from sea creatures back when there were only two moons in the sky. Rhael is broad-shouldered but lean, built for movement rather than strength.

“Why do so many of y’all speak English?” Cameron drawls.

Rhael wrinkles his nose for a moment, undoubtedly trying to decipher Cameron’s question, before understanding dawns on his face. “Lyravelle has a community of humans,” he answers with a voice that’s almost lyrical in its cadence. “Most of them speak Elyrian, but that wasn’t always the case. The Vaelor thought it was important to communicate openly, so our leaders studied their language.”

“It was required?” Cameron asks, brows lifting.

Rhael is clearly entertained. “It was… suggested.”

Galdren clears his throat, and Rhael remains completely unphased as he gestures toward the doors. “Come. Let’s walk while we speak. Galdren needs the room, and apparently has forgotten how to use his voice to say as much.”

“Hey, now,” Galdren says with a barking laugh.

“Merely pointing it out,” Rhael says, flashing him a stunning smile before he turns to our group. “This way, please.” He leads us into the wide, sunlit corridors of the castle and shuts the doors behind him.

“How did so many humans get here?” Cato asks.

Rhael hums. “Humans are notoriously curious—”

“That’s the truth,” I mutter, grunting when Cato elbows me.

Rhael doesn’t try to hide his amusement as he watches us interact. “Many crossed looking for an adventure, others were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were also those taken prisoner during the early wars. They were set free by the Vaelor, of course, but by then, the passageways had closed.”

Cato chews on his lip. “How many are here? There would have to be enough to maintain their numbers, right?”

“Correct. At last count, the official records reflect there are several thousand scattered through the lands, though we know that number is likely much larger than what’s in the ledgers. The population here in the capital is much smaller, somewhere closer to the eight hundred mark.”

“Do they live in the city with everyone else?” Ronan asks. “In the human world, our kind and theirs don’t openly mingle if it can be avoided.”

Rhael pauses and glances at Ronan with a frown. “Why not?”

Ronan’s brows bunch before he smooths his expression. “How much do you know about what happened when our kind crossed the rifts?”

“Not as much as I should,” Rhael admits as he twirls his braid between his fingers. “History and warfare interest me very little, much to my father’s disdain. I know of the great war, but our history books don’t hold record of much beyond the initial attacks.”

“Yeah, well,” Cameron says as we’re led down a different arched hallway, “the story can be summed up pretty accurately by saying they attacked, we lost, and the world has gone to shit ever since.”

Rhael nods slowly. “I understand that’s why you’re here?”

“It is,” Ronan confirms as he slides his arm around Cameron’s lower back.

Rhael stares curiously at their position. “Romantic relationships between humans and Elyrians are quite taboo here. The difference in life expectancy makes the idea… difficult.”

He suddenly realizes how his words might land with us, and his teal cheeks darken as he stumbles over an apology. “Please forgive my thoughtlessness, I—I meant nothing by it. It is simply how things have been. I didn’t mean to imply anything about your own bonds.”

Cameron waves it off with a grin. “We get it.”