Iarion stared at the looming forest of ancient oaks and pines, trying not to feel nervous.
This is ridiculous. I’m a Wood Elf! A few trees shouldn’t scare me.
Despite his brave thoughts, he couldn’t help feeling unsettled. He could sense the pulse of life coming from the Fey Wood. It felt wild and unfettered—completely unlike any forest he had ever entered. His stomach performed an anxious backflip. He had heard about the Wild Elves that dwelled within, but he had never met one. He wasn’t sure what to expect, especially after his prolonged stay among the conservative Sea Elves. Part of him wanted to dismiss the forest altogether and move on.
But what if they have the answers I need?
It was a possibility he couldn’t ignore. He had spent countless years wandering Lasniniar in the hopes of finding someone who might be able to help him. If there was any chance he might find the answers he desperately sought in the Fey Wood, he had no choice but to enter. He straightened his shoulders and brushed his long, silver braids back behind his pointed ears.
Enough stalling.
Iarion walked toward the trees, keeping his hands well away from the knife at his belt and the bow resting on his shoulder. The last thing he wanted was to be perceived as a threat. His silver-flecked sapphire eyes darted from shadow to shadow as he approached. Even though he couldn’t see anyone standing watch, he knew the sentries were there. No elves would leave their forest unprotected.
Iarion blinked. An arrow buzzed past his ear, grazing his cheek. He put a startled hand to his face and saw blood on his fingers. He glared at the trees in disbelief.
“Consider yourself lucky,” a female voice called from the shadows in Elvish. “My sister wanted to aim lower.”
“Why did you shoot me?” Iarion spluttered. It had been the last thing he had expected. “I approached peacefully!”
“This is Wild Elf territory,” the voice said. “We do not welcome intruders.”
Iarion sighed in exasperation. “And what about visitors? It’s not as if I’m a goblin spy.”
“He is too good looking to be a goblin,” a second female voice said.
“Yes, but look at what he’s wearing,” the first voice replied. “He doesn’t look like he’d be any fun.”
Iarion looked down at his clothing with a frown. His buckskin breeches were worn, but clean. His boots were laced, and his tunic was tucked in beneath his cloak. It was hardly fancy garb, but it was practical and well cared for. He looked up.
“Can we at least have this conversation face to face?” he asked, trying to regain his composure.
“I suppose,” the first voice said. “But we will be keeping our arrows ready, so don’t move.”
Two figures stepped out from the trees. Iarion found himself blinking again. For a moment, he thought he might be seeing double. Both elven women had the same long, auburn hair and deep green eyes. As they came closer, he saw that one was perhaps a year or two older than the other, and stood a few inches taller. They had the same dusky skin as Iarion, but their faces were marked with whorls of green and brown paint. Their clothing was a mismatched combination of animal skins, and their braided hair was decorated with beads and feathers. Iarion suddenly felt plain by comparison. Both women held an arrow nocked and ready as they approached.
“Much too good looking to be a goblin,” the shorter one said as she looked Iarion up and down. He realized she was the second voice he had heard. He flushed under her open scrutiny.
“Look at how red he is!” the other said. “He’s blushing like a Sea Elf virgin.”
Iarion ignored his discomfort and plowed forward. “I am a Wood Elf, but I have just come from an extended visit among the Sea Elves.”
“That explains much,” the taller one said with a sound of disgust. “Those prudes don’t know how to enjoy themselves. I am Beliriel and this is my sister, Luniwyn. Who are you, and what do you want?”
“My name is Iarion,” he said, his mind racing to figure out a way to explain his mission to these erratic elf women. “I am hoping your people might be able to help me. Could I meet your lord and lady? I’m afraid my problem is... complicated.”
Beliriel raised an eyebrow at him. “Complicated, eh? Perhaps you are more interesting than you appear...”
