The Night Queen's Curse: A Sinzar Chronicles Novel (The Sinzar Chronicles) by Niro J Hayle

Author:Niro J Hayle [Hayle, Niro J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

If I hadn’t met Amaris first, the perfection of this male elf’s face alone would have probably left me swooning like Lily over Alexander. Amaris has ruined my impression of basically anyone else after him.

The stark contrast between the elf and a Divine Fae is that my savior here has longer ears. A fae may be able to hide their pointed ears beneath a hat but there is no way an elf could hide those magnificent appendages. The elf notices my stare. I look away hastily. Alexander and the bard have been a poor introduction to the creatures of the Otherworld. I have no choice but to assume they all can’t be trusted.

“Put me down,” I demand. The golden-haired elf raises one smug eyebrow. I will not make the same mistake of underestimating him as I did with Alexander and the nameless minstrel.

A buff, tanned male elf saunters towards us and inspects me. “Strange little fae you have in your hands, Aelfric,” he says.

“Be nice now, Fyntan, Aelfric,” warns the female warrior as she steps out from the cavern’s opening. She drops her hood and veil.

A warm feeling of safety and comfort blankets me the moment I look at her. I don’t know if this sense of security inside me is because she has saved my life twice in Reírse, or because of the color of her hair that reminds me of Amaris’s.

“I was just playing. I haven’t seen a fae since the Great War, m’lady. I’ve forgotten what they smell like.” The large male elf takes the spear from her hand to clean it off.

The female warrior laughs musically. She washes her hand with water from a flask. Her clothing seems common and designed to blend in with the night, but the green ring on her finger suggests she might be someone of importance. I study every movement she makes under the moonlight. The elf is so captivating that I can’t keep my eyes off her.

The only other beauty that could rival hers is probably the painting in Griffith’s Hall of the Elf Queen of Aelfheim, Rhianelle.

I realized I’m not the only one staring at the silver-haired female elf. The guy holding me has his eyes trained on her too. Although he’s probably waiting for her next order or something. It seems to me that she is their superior.

The warrior ties her long silver hair into a neat braid. The contrast works so well against her dark skin. Her amber eyes catch me gawking at her like a crazed fangirl.

My heart drops to my stomach.

It’s not the first time I’ve been caught staring but this thundering in my chest won’t stop.

It gets worse as she approaches me. “She’s not a fae, Fyntan. Can’t you see?” She smiles.

“A mortal? In the heart of Avalon?” They gasp and exchange looks with one another.

“She speaks our tongue too,” the one hidden in the shadows says.

“The Belrae bread. She must have taken some,” the female sighs.

“How would she find such a thing?” the large elf exclaims with utter shock.

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