that they want to harm them.
“They will be protecting me as well,” I continue, needing them to know I have multiple guards. “I know you have always been taught they are the enemy. Is this going to be a problem for you?”
Silence greets my question, and I start to worry. Was I foolish to think this might work? That the elves and the magicians could work together?
One of the mages at the front of the group shifts his weight from foot to foot and clears his throat, glancing at Grayson as if asking for permission to speak. Grayson nods, and the mage turns his attention to me. Like most from Arhaven, he has golden skin and blond hair, but he doesn’t wear his in the typical longer style, instead, it’s cut very short and close to his head. Dazzling blue eyes meet mine, and from the fine creases around them, I would say he’s in his early thirties.
“We are beginning to see things are not as black and white as we once believed, beloved.” His voice is deep, and as he speaks, I notice that several of the other mages nod along with him. There is confusion in their expressions, and I understand how hard this must be for them. “We trust in the Great Mother, and she will guide us true. She is telling us to trust you. If you say these elves are not evil or to be harmed, then we believe you.”
There’s a murmur of agreement from the other mages, and I realise they look up to this mage. I like him, I think as I assess the man in front of me. Everything he says rings true, almost like Merrin’s truth magic, except I don’t feel the thick molasses-like feeling of magic in the air.
Allowing a small smile, I dip my head a fraction in acknowledgement of his statement, trying not to let it show that my heart is pounding in my chest. “What is your name?”
The mage immediately performs a low bow before standing straight and giving me a small, gentle smile. “Samson, ma’am.”
Yes, I definitely like him. His smile is genuine and reaches his eyes, but he isn’t trying to check me out or gain my favour because of my status or relationship with Grayson. My smile widens slightly in return. “Thank you, Samson.” There’s definitely something about him I still can’t put my finger on. “Your magic, do you have a…” I try to think how to phrase it, not knowing the terminology. I know I was gifted by the goddess, but I don’t actually possess magic. Merrin has truth magic, and Ellis is able to put his will into his, but I don’t know if having a particular skill with magic is normal or not. As far as I’m aware, Grayson doesn’t have a particular skill, he’s just strong in all areas, which is how he became a high mage.
Thankfully, Samson seems to know what I’m trying to say and smiles, dipping his head slightly. “I am strong in all areas, but I have also been gifted with healing magic.”
My eyes widen. “A healer.” The words come out as a whisper as I reassess the man in front of me again. I’ve never heard of a magician with healing magic before. As the protectors and warriors for the humans, their magic is primarily offensive. However, this mage practically radiates calm. If I was to have someone heal me, I would want it to be Samson.
“Yes, it’s a very rare gift, we haven’t had a healer in over a century,” Grayson adds, and I can hear the pride in his voice. From the smile the two of them share, I think they must be friends. This only helps to reassure me more that the elves will be safe with these mages.
There’s a slight tug in my chest, which alerts me to Vaeril’s confusion. Glancing at him over my shoulder, I see a tiny frown between his brow, the only outward sign of his conflicting emotions. Reaching for the bond, I try to work out why he’s feeling this way and realise he’s trying to decide something. Something suddenly changes, his face smooths out—he’s made his decision.
“The sea and wood elves have some healers, perhaps you could share your knowledge?” he offers smoothly. Pride swells in my chest as I stare at him in shock, not quite believing how far he’s come. We still have a long way to go, but this is a