Quinn clamped his mouth shut so tight that his lips disappeared beneath his beard. He rose, slowly and eyeing Darshan the entire time, before stalking off to the tent he shared sleeping quarters with Sean.
Zurron’s sharp gaze followed the man and he glared at the tent for some time after.
The rest of them returned to their meals, occasionally peeking at either the elf or the tent. Hamish dared to glance at his brother in an attempt to gauge his thoughts on the matter. As commander of the royal guards, he had the power to send either guard wherever he deemed acceptable.
Gordon sat with his back pole-stiff. He chewed with that dead-eyed, brow-knitted expression that spoke of wheels turning. Unlike the rest of them, his gaze never left the elf.
Were they going to have to restrain Zurron until the morning? The man didn’t seem the type to start anything violent. As a whole, elves didn’t have an altogether decent reputation, with those outside of the nomad caravans often labelled as troublemakers and murderers.
With the majority of the elves passing through, those who stayed in Tirglas bore the brunt of such a reputation. More often than not, it led to them proving certain opinions right. Zurron was one of twenty-four elves in the whole guard—often sent on their duties in pairs to limit this sort of behaviour.
But if this was how a man like Zurron got treated by someone Hamish had thought was the elf’s friend, then he wasn’t surprised some elves retaliated violently. No man should be expected to weather being constantly pushed down.
Only when Quinn showed no sign of leaving the tent confines did Zurron relax. “What kind of world do we live in?” he muttered shaking his head. “I expected a remark like that to come from someone like…” The elf waved his hand, gesturing in Darshan’s general direction. “Well, like you, nae me own kinsmen.” He wrinkled his button nose, turning the tip upwards, and added, “Nae offence, you understand?”
Darshan hummed consideringly. “I do. Although, I would not have spoken so crudely even if I did not already know the answer. At least when it comes to the outlook of Udynean elves.”
“Oh aye?” Zurron arched a brow and tipped his head back. “And what do they believe?”
“You understand this is merely an outlook by those working in the imperial palace?” Darshan cleared his throat once Zurron nodded. “You see, once particular defining elven features have vanished to the point where they can pass as humans, most within the palace—even the city, really, there are quite a few part-elf, part-human children—seem to consider themselves as human. Takes around two generations of breeding with humans. Or three, depending on how virulent the elven bloodline is.”
The elf squinted, the faint gleam of light twinkling on the thin slit between his lashes the only evidence he saw anything. “What features would they be?” The words pierced the air with a note of already having been answered.
Whilst the pointed ears were a strong feature of elven blood, it wasn’t the only one. Beyond their short stature and the elongated canines, there was the eerie length of their fingers. Although not noticeable at any great distance, once Hamish had first spotted it on a stablehand several decades back, he hadn’t been able to keep himself from staring. They weren’t creepily long, just an inch or so, but it was enough to lift the hairs on his neck that time. Learning it was natural and not some monster of lore trying to pose as an elf had also helped.
But to see such a feature on an otherwise human-looking person would certainly bring stares and speculation in several circles. Enough to ostracise the individual? He wished he could be certain of the outcome there.
“As you seem to have already guessed, the point in the ears is generally the last thing to go,” Darshan murmured. “It is not uncommon to see some attempting to hide the smaller tips.” His lips curved into a smile slightly on the watery side. “Although, I am quite certain that, if one of them ever felt the need to travel there, they would be welcomed into Heimat regardless.”
Zurron’s jaw twitched from side to side as he appeared to mull over the words. “Are they ashamed to be part elven?”
“More, I believe, searching for a better life. There are still places, social heights, barred for elves.” Darshan bit his lip and toyed with the tuft of his beard. “I think your father and grandmother would know that better than I. It is changing, albeit very slowly. The current council rather considers it as anathema.”
“Nae doubt because of the rampant slavery in your lands,” Sean murmured. The man had silently inched closer to his fellow guard. Seeking to protect. Who? Hamish wasn’t entirely certain there.
He glanced over his shoulder at the tent. No sign of Quinn. That ruled out one scenario.
Darshan’s eyes slid shut. “That…” His whole body seemed to deflate at the word, his breath gusting through his barely-parted lips. “Certainly does not help matters. It may come as a surprise, but not everyone in Udynea is happy with the current situation in regards to slavery and the number against it rises with each generation. Will they abolish it within our time?” He spread his hands wide and shrugged.
They finished their meals in silence, beyond a brief bicker between Sean and Zurron over who would polish off the remains in the pot. As always, the elf won and happily consumed the spoils of victory. The act was almost normal enough to make Hamish forget all that had happened since sitting by the fire.
Talk turned to the usual discussion of which duo went on night watch and who with. Zurron, as always, opted for
