For the first time that night, genuine shock broke through her exhaustion.
He knew; Maxtons had never known and Heavenchilds had never understood either; there were indeed several rare Elven races, yet none had recognized precisely what she was.
This stranger had needed one single glance.
Phei rose and turned toward the High Elf, offering a respectful inclination of his head and a greeting befitting ancient Elven nobility, though without the reverence he had shown their leader. The Moon Elf received a similarly courteous acknowledgement, followed by the Forest Elf, whose dying wooden crown earned a longer look from Phei than he appeared comfortable with.
Then he reached the Flower Elf and Phei knelt again on one knee.
The young woman watched him uncertainly as his fingers moved toward the silver flowers woven through her dark-green hair... he touched one dead blossom gently.
Life rushed through it and the flower shivered beneath his fingertip.
