“Iliva! Let me speak to her! I need to… explain. Please! Iliva! Iliva! I love you! I love you…”
The dark elf’s words rang in Ilanaliva Rilness’s ears. He said he loved her. How he lied! He didn’t love her!
He was Tulomon Willenello. A dark elf. How had she been so blind? How could she not realize her loved followed the Destroyer? How could she not see the darkness in him…?
How could he keep this from her? He’d said there were no secrets between them…
She was beautiful. And she knew it. Men flocked around her. Women envied her. Older, wiser elves shook their heads, smiling as they watched the happy Elven maiden draw suitors like honey draws bees.
Her father, Lairan, tried to protect his daughter. He held her when she cried when she was young, and fell from a tree. He had rescued her when she was older, and, while swimming with her cousins, had been caught in a whirlpool. But how could Lair Rilness, the Elven King’s advisor, protect his beautiful daughter from young men and heartbreak?
He had tried. He made sure only elves of good upbringing courted his daughter. He made sure the Elven lords knew Iliva’s curfew when taking her for strolls through the forest. He made sure the elves were not hot-blooded, reading to go dashing off into the forest after robbers, leaving Iliva. He made sure they were responsible, reliable…
It had worked at first. Iliva was young, and happy to flirt with the men her father chose. Elven princes and lords, all with plenty of servants, money, and other such things seemed appealing at first.
But things changed. Even elves cannot prevent change, however they may try. Iliva was slowly drawn to more daring elves. She stayed out past her curfew. She began to toy with some of her handsomer servants.
Lairan was worried. But then, just as he was losing hope, the Elven King announced that a ball would be held, in honour of his son’s one-hundredth birthday. The Elven Prince, Eleverdo Ithuell, was extremely handsome, and while daring, could do very little due to his royal personage. The perfect match for Iliva. The King was worried about his son, and thought that an Elven maiden might settle the young prince down, and so Lairan the King agreed that their children ought to be introduced.
The ball was a grand one. Held in the royal palace, the room was made of a delicate rose-coloured stone. The walls were covered in delicate, intricate carvings of plants, woodland animals, and birds. Open doors led to moonlit gardens, marble fountains, and small pools, filled with fish that sparkled like jewels. Servants, dressed in the emerald-green livery of the Royal House, offered the guests delicacies and wine. The guests themselves looked splendid, in their pale silks and embroidered satin, the women’s hair in towers of curls and covered in strands of jewels. A light breeze drifted through the midsummer air, and songbirds sang to the setting sun. It was beautiful.
Iliva, gorgeous in a lavender silk gown, her chestnut hair a mass of curls cascading down her back, was quickly introduced to the Prince. Lairan then left the two adolescents alone, praying that each would find the other attractive.
Iliva, who was an intelligent Elven maiden, knew what her father plotted, but decided she’d rather take advantage of her manipulative father. It wasn’t everyday she got to meet a prince, so she immediately began to toy with him. Eleverdo had flirted before, but Iliva quickly tangled his wits, leaving him too confused to do anything but what she said. Several glasses of blood-red wine also helped.
Prince Eleverdo invited Iliva for a walk through the gardens, which she eagerly accepted. A short time later, they were alone. Iliva hoped- no, expected!- the Prince would kiss her, but as he was drunk, he recited poetry instead.
Disgusted, Iliva went back inside, leaving the Prince to recite his epic poems to the fish. Unfortunately, it was getting late, so most young elves were as drunk as Eleverdo. Iliva had no one to flirt or toy with. Unless…
One of the servants was going out into the garden, carrying a tray of marzipan creations. Grinning, Iliva crept up behind him.
She did not let him know of her presence until they were alone, walking along a path surrounded by thick hedges. She cleared her throat, causing him to jump at least a hand.
“My lady? Can I offer you something?” he asked, turning around.
Iliva had had an answer ready, but she forgot it as she gazed at the handsome elf. Thick curly brown hair fell just short of his shoulders, and his warm brown eyes were bright. His jade-coloured uniform suggested a strong, lightly muscled body, and he had the lightly tanned skin of a working elf.
“I… I… Um, yes,” Iliva said, not wanting to remain silent. The servant stared at her for a moment, then held the tray forward. Iliva picked up a piece of marzipan, not looking away from the elf’s eyes.
After about a minute of staring, Iliva regained some of her composure. “I am Lady Ilanaliva Rilness.”
He bowed. “I am Tulomon Willenello, my lady.” After a second, he added, “You look a bit flushed, my lady. Would you care to sit down?” Iliva nodded, and gracefully sat on a nearby stone bench. He moved into the light, and Iliva commented,
“You also… look a bit flushed. Perhaps you, too, ought to sit down?”
“It would not be proper, my lady,” Tulomon Willenello murmured respectfully.
“I insist.”
Tulomon Willenello sat down awkwardly. Putting the tray down beside him, he looked at Iliva. Their eyes met. He leaned forward…
She told herself she had been drunk. That was all. Nothing else…
No, something else. When she closed her eyes, she could see him, his warm brown eyes, his curling brown hair, his long, pointed ears…
That kiss had meant something. She knew it did. But… he was a servant. He was of a low caste. And she was a lady…
Iliva tangled men’s wits! They weren’t supposed to tangle hers!
A month later, Prince Eleverdo held a quiet dinner party for the Elven nobility. Iliva was invited.
After dinner, Iliva excused herself, and went for a stroll through the gardens, hoping to meet… him.
She did.
They met as often as possible, staying in the shadows, hiding their love when others were around. Iliva yearned to tell her father, but knew he would never approve. So she stayed silent.
Then, one moonlit night, he asked her. She had dressed up especially for him, in green silk with copper embroidery, to match her hair and eyes. He said she looked beautiful. He said she was perfect. And then he asked her.
“Iliva, will you marry me?”
For an answer, Iliva kissed him. Her father would never approve, and Tulomon had little, but she didn’t care. She would be happy, living with him. She would convince her father.
The next day, Iliva told Lairan. The elf lord was upset, but what could he do? His daughter would be happy, and this man would no doubt be the reliable sort Iliva needed. Lairan agreed to meet Tulomon, and the two talked. Iliva never learned what they said, but Lairan seemed to like her fiancée, for he consented. Preparations for the wedding began.
But the wedding was never to be.
The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear, the sun shining, the sky blue, and the temperature warm. Iliva was excited. Her face was flushed. She was going to marry! Only a few more hours…
And then Lairan told his daughter.
Late the previous night, some elves came across Tulomon performing dark rituals to the Destroyer. Tulomon was to be exiled. Lairan had not found out until this morning.
“I’m sorry,” Lairan told his daughter.
Iliva dried her tears. Yesterday. It had happened yesterday. Yesterday, Tulomon had betrayed her love, forsaken her for the Destroyer.
“You said there were no secrets, but you lied,” she whispered to the darkness. “There was one secret, your secret. Your dark secret. All you have told me is a lie!”