Free The Tears of Elios by Crista McHugh Page A

resumed her search under his desk. In less than a minute, he heard the subtle click of the trap opening and the sliding of the book from the secret compartment.
    His hands clenched into fists, and his jaw tightened. The one thing he hoped she would never find was now in her hands, and he couldn’t do anything to stop her.
    Ranealya leaned back in his chair and propped her feet up on the desk. She flipped through the pages green leather bound book until she found the place she was looking for. Then she read. He waited for her to laugh or mock him, but she read with a minimal display of emotion. An occasional smile, but nothing more than that.
    Cold beads of sweat formed along his hairline. He’d hidden the book for a good reason. It dredged up memories of when he was studying for his Master's trials, when a certain auburn-haired woman possessed him to fill a book with poetry and other musings on her beauty. Her rejection still stung, although the years had softened its intensity. And Ranealya was reading all of it. All his stupid boyish ramblings on love were at her mercy. She now had an arsenal of weapons to use against him. He ached to rip the book from her hands and toss it into the fire, yet he remained motionless and watched.
    As he pushed the memories out of his mind, Gregor began to assess the situation more clearly. It was obvious she had found the book prior to this evening, judging by the ease of how she opened the secret compartment under his desk. Yet she hadn’t given any indication that she knew of the book or its contents. No insults, no taunts, no teasing. On the contrary, she seemed more calm and pleasant today than any other day prior to this.
    She yawned and closed the book. A few seconds later, it slipped back in its secret compartment. She stretched and walked to the fireplace, stooping to scratch the snoring dog's ears. The wound didn’t seem to impair her movements now. As she straightened, she moved towards the mantle.
    Ranealya stared into the mirror and scowled.
    Gregor’s stomach tied in knots, and his pulse hammered in his eyes. The spell he cast on the mirrors was supposed to only grant him a one way view into his study, not the other way around. He considered hiding his mirror under the cover so she wouldn’t see him. Then he looked into her eyes and saw her reflection in them, not his, and the tension eased from his shoulders. To her, it was nothing more than a mirror.
    As she reached out to touch it, her whole body changed. Her tangled brown hair lengthened into a pale silk curtain that hung to her knees. Flawless ivory skin replaced the fur. Her clawlike nails retracted to reveal long delicate fingers, and the pointed ears shrank ever so slightly. Yet her face remained the same—the same almond-shaped eyes with their ocher wolf-like glow, the same high cheekbones, and the same full lips.
    Gregor’s breath caught. He never imagined an elf could be so exquisite. She seemed to radiate a golden light, like a distant star.
    She ran her fingers over her bare skin, closing her eyes as she appeared to savor the feeling. Her hands traveled to her face, and she stroked her smooth cheeks. She opened her eyes as her fingers approach them and studied her reflection. The smile faded from her lips, and her fingertips traced the large yellow eyes, so out of place with her elvan body.
    A cry filled the room as she turned away from the mirror, and her body slid back to its normal appearance. She ripped her hair out, but new feathers replaced the ones that floated to the ground. With a growl, she then turned her claws on her own body, slicing long gashes across the fine fur.
    Horrified by her self-mutilation, he moved to stop her but paused. The torn skin healed within mere seconds of her assault, the wounds rapidly repairing themselves as if a healing spell had been cast on them.
    Her body shook with sobs as the last wounds knitted back together, but no tears fell. She curled up into a ball on her bed and