As they continued eating, Cera felt the gap between them continue to narrow. She had a hard time remembering him as the aloof, remote man she'd met the night before. Had she misjudged him, or had he only become amiable in response to how she'd changed?
She was reminded of her new body when a butterfly passed by. It was unusually large, with bright colors that seemed to pop off its wings. The white spots on the tail ends of the wings looked like the whites of eyes. As soon as the thought came to her, the spots developed irises and lashes, blinking at her several times before the butterfly fluttered down the trail.
As the butterfly disappeared, a young man was making his way into the garden. The first thing she noticed about him was his resemblance to Isael. He had the same well-sculpted face, long but broad enough that it wasn't narrow, and a strong chin. His eyes were pale green, rather than blue, but his brow slanted at the same deep angle as Isael's. Only his hair was markedly different, wavy and golden blond to Isael's voluminous silver.
His clothes reminded Cera of a riding outfit. He wore a white tunic beneath a green coat that was embroidered with gold. His dark pants were tucked into boots that appeared perfectly molded to his long calves.
He looked to be a few years younger than Cera, a youth on the cusp of manhood. Her first thought as she took him in was that if she gave Isael a son, their son might look an awful lot like him.
Isael rose as the young man approached, a small smile lighting his face.
"Esodir. Come, sit."
When Cera looked back to the young man, she saw that he'd stopped in his tracks, his mint-colored eyes fixed on her. Aside from a slight parting of his lips, his face gave no indication of what he thought of her.
The moment passed quickly, and he resumed his approach with a casual air, pausing behind the chair across from Cera.
"You must be Cera," he said in pitch perfect Ateran. He extended his hand toward her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Cera stared at the proffered hand for a second, and then reached out to give it a clumsy shake. She had learned that elves did not shake hands and assumed he must have been doing it for her benefit. She appreciated the effort, even though handshaking was strictly a male gesture in Atera.
"This is my nephew, Esodir," Isael said as Esodir took a seat at the table.
"Ah!" she said, perhaps a bit too loudly. "You look so much alike."
Isael nodded, regarding his nephew fondly. "By pure chance. His father looked nothing like me."
"He was your brother?" She asked, her eyes still shifting between the pair and noting their similarities.
Esodir answered, "My grandfather was Lord Isael's brother. We don't make distinctions such asgreat-nephew. With as long as we live, it would become rather tedious."
Cera was about to inquire further, when a particular aspect of her new body struck her.
Elven longevity.
It was said that the first elves had been immortal, a trait that was gradually lost as successive generations interbred with humans. In the south, elven slaves were considered part of an estate as they often outlived multiple generations of masters. Their northern counterparts had bloodlines that were far purer and were said to be able to live much longer. Her country was over four centuries old and Isael had already unified the northern elves when the first humans were landing on Ateran shores. Even with his silver hair, he looked like the picture of youth, hardly a day over thirty.
If she had become like Isael, it stood to reason that she would also have acquired his longevity. It was possible that she could live for hundreds of years before one of her new silver strands dulled to its former gray.
The realization was not thrilling, nor was it terrifying. It was just another thing she would have to accept.
Somehow.
One thing that did make sense to her now was Isael's offer to release her if she did not bear him a child. She'd imagined that he'd planned to use her up and then cast her aside, but in reality, his offer represented a sort of freedom. Freedom, the likes of which Cera had never known. Her life had always been controlled, first by her father and the queen mother, and now by Isael. But if she could keep her wits about her and learn to navigate her new world, she could be free in the span of a couple decades.
Free to pursue her own interests and free to keep her own home. She might be able to marry, assuming another man would want the former concubine of their lord. If she could find such a man and she was so inclined to marry, she might even be able to have children of her own.
That was all assuming she could trust Isael's word. She could think of no reason why he might refuse to release her from serving him, but men often did things that were beyond her understanding.
While she mused over her present state and her nebulous future, Isael and Esodir conversed. At first, they seemed to speak Ateran for her benefit, but as Cera detached from the conversation their talks flowed into the elven language.
* * *
Cera captivated Isael.
He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to blink.
Her hair was pale silver. White silk soaked in moonlight. He could still remember how it had changed between his fingers, the coarse, human texture replaced by a luxuriant softness. He’d spent the dark hours of the morning stroking it, and he was already eager to do it again.