“It’s not a choice,” she said. “The curse is a contract written in blood and intention. I cannot break it. I can only endure.”
“A Silvervein elf,” she said. Her voice was low, dry, almost bored. “Clipped. Bound. Wrapped in rags.” Her gaze slid to Vane. “You dare offer me damaged goods ?” the elven slave and the great witch’s curse
Until the night Vane’s gambling debts caught up with him. “It’s not a choice,” she said
“Kaelen,” she repeated. Then she turned to Vane. “I accept your offering. The curse on your son will lift at midnight.” “It’s not a choice
“Good,” he said. “Now teach me how to make tea that doesn’t taste like swamp water.”