he seems much more in control.
Grayson goes to take a step towards the elves, who hiss in response, and Vaeril falls into a crouch again. “I could kill you with a snap of my fingers,” the mage sneers.
Watching the guys with wide eyes, I shake my head before stepping between them, holding my hands up to get their attention off each other and back on me. “Guys! Please, stop!” I shout, allowing the pain of this whole encounter to enter my voice. “If you hurt each other, you hurt me.” It’s as simple as that, and I hope they understand it. If they choose to continue to try and attack each other, then they care more about their hatred for one another than they do for me.
Grayson lets out a pained noise, throwing his head back and looking up at the sky, a prayer to the Mother on his lips. Naril’s low voice reaches me, and I know he’s talking Vaeril down from his instinctive need to attack the magician, to protect me. Violence is the last thing we need right now.
Finally lowering his gaze from the tree canopy that blocks out most of the sky, Grayson shakes his head. “This isn’t going to work, Clarissa. I can never share you with an elf.” His words are final, like he expects me to accept that and make a choice.
A sense of calm settles over me as I nod once, even though a piece of me feels like it’s breaking. “Then you will never be able to be with me.” If that’s the way he feels, then it’s as simple as that, and I will leave the choice up to him. He knows where I stand, and I won’t choose.
Grayson obviously didn’t expect that reaction, and panic overtakes his face as he takes a step towards me. “Clarissa, don’t say that.” Realising what he’s about to lose, he frowns as he tries to backtrack. “Maybe we can work something—”
“No, Grayson,” I interject, my sharp tone cutting off whatever he was about to say. “Your hatred for them is what will keep us apart.” My voice breaks with my heart, and a single tear rolls down my cheek.
His face contorts as he reaches out, cupping my face gently. “Clarissa—”
“I learned more about my past, my heritage.” I’m whispering now as I look up at him, and I know he’s wondering why the tears are still rolling down my face, why this is relevant. I’m ready. It doesn’t matter if he reacts badly to this. I’m still me. This doesn’t change who I am, we just know more about where I came from. I brace myself for the fallout that’s inevitably about to happen. “I’m part elf.”
His thumb, which had been stroking my cheek, stops moving, and I close my eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “What?” His voice sounds more shocked than angry.
There’s still plenty of time for him to get angry, I chide, and I take a deep breath, using his silence to explain what I know. “My grandfather was a wood elf. He believed that humans and elves should live in peace, that the goddess, the Great Mother, wanted us to live together. So he left the elves and fell in love with a human,” I tell him in a rush. “He had a son, my father.” There’s a long pause, and I can’t keep my eyes closed any longer. I need to see his expression, I need to see if he’s looking at me with the same hate and disgust that enters his face when he looks at Vaeril.
Except all I see is a great sadness. That vice around my chest tightens a little more, but I can’t seem to stop talking. I have to know. “Do you hate me, knowing that I’m part elf? That one of my relatives was from the race you long to kill?” Another tear rolls down my cheek, but this time, he doesn’t wipe it away with his thumb, the droplet trailing along my skin as I stare up into his torn gaze.
His silence says everything, and I can’t do it any longer. I can’t stand here with him looking at me like he’s about to lose me. With a deep, choked breath, I pull away, unable to hold back my sob. A hand grips my arm, stopping me.
“No. No, Clarissa. I could never hate you,” Grayson rushes out, pulling me into his embrace. I immediately bury my face into his robes