Elfin

Prologue “Humans are not to see the Elfin in their true form. They are not to know of our realm. If a human does see an Elfin in their true form, that human’s life is forfeit. There are no exceptions.” ~Book 1, Law of the Elfin “You summoned me?” Trik knelt before Lorsan and his mate, Ilyrana, the king and queen of the dark elves. Trik kept his eyes on the floor as he waited for his king to address him and tried not to let his impatience show in his demeanor. Lorsan stood, tall, like most males of his race. He wore traditional elvish clothing—black pants and a black fitted shirt made of a supple material unknown to the human realm that flexed with the body so as to prevent any hindrance of movement during battle. The king’s boots came up over his pants and laced up his calves. These were also crafted in such a way as to provide maximum efficiency in battle. They hugged the foot and calves so well that the one wearing the shoes couldn’t even tell that he sported any footwear at all. The only difference between his clothing and those of his surrounding warriors was the grey vest that delineated his position. The king’s hair was long, hanging down past the middle of his back and dark as midnight. His eyes were catlike in shape and glowed a deep shade of gold. He was handsome, according to the females of his race, though a human might find him quite disarming. He folded his arms across his chest as he continued to stare at his most faithful warrior. “Tamsin is planning something.” Lorsan’s mouth tightened as he said the name of the leader of the light elves. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at Trik. “I need to know what it is.” “Forgive my boldness, but why do you believe he is planning something?” Trik asked. “Oh, for goodness sake, stand up,” Lorsan told him in exasperation. “Since when do you submit to anyone with such grace? It doesn’t suit you and frankly it bores me.” Trik stood slowly with the grace of a cat unfolding itself from a long nap. He looked at Lorsan with a smirk and brushed his long, dark hair from his face—hair so dark that it held a purple hue and shimmered in the firelight from the torches that lined the walls of the throne room. “I can’t have you bored, my liege. How shall I entertain you?” Trik asked, giving a dramatic bow. “Shall I dance? Perhaps sing you a song, one of the old ones? Enchant you with one of the many stories of how the dark elves have corrupted the innocent and bathed in the blood of our enemies? Or maybe you would like me to wow you with magic and mind-blowing feats of daring?” Trik rose from his bow and winked at the smiling queen, who was obviously enjoying his flippantness. “What I would like, Triktapic, is for you to do what you do best. Be invisible. Follow Tamsin’s warriors to the human realm and find out why they have been spending so much time there.” “Do you want me to bring one of the pasty ones back?” Trik asked. Lorsan snorted at the nickname his most trusted spy had given the light elves, poking fun at their immutable pale skin. “No, I don’t want to draw their attention just yet,” said Lorsan. “Just hide, watch, and report. Leave immediately.” Lorsan dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Trik let out a chuckle at his king’s seemingly careless brush-off. He walked slowly toward the door waiting for the inevitable. “Oh, and Trik …,” Lorsan’s voice carried through the room echoing off the high ceiling. “Liege?” Trik asked not bothering to turn back around. “Try not to get yourself killed. I would hate to have to train another spy and assassin.” “Since you put it that way, I’ll have to stay alive. We both know that there is none such as I.” Trik chuckled. Lorsan let out an exasperated breath. Trik was only half-joking and they both knew it. There wasn’t another elf that even came close to matching Trik’s talents, if that’s what you wanted to call the assassin’s skills. When it came to covert operations and undetected killing, no elves, light or dark, could compare. “And stay away from the human females.” Trik heard Lorsan’s raised voice as he closed the door behind him. Just before it clicked shut, Trik responded. “No promises there.”