Drow had even been the one to call his name.
So how could he now stand there silently, unwilling to say a word? What kind of logic was that?
In all his decades as a mediator in the Elven Forest, Illiya had never encountered a more difficult elf than this one.
He genuinely didn't know how to communicate with him. And for some inexplicable reason, he had the feeling that if he pushed a little harder with questions, this dark elf would actually start crying.
That idea startled Illiya. At the same time, he found it kind of funny.
Drow? Crying?
No way he'd actually cry, right?
But just as the thought crossed his mind, Illiya happened to catch a glimpse of Drow's reddening eyes—like a wronged little wife on the verge of tears.
Silently, Illiya took two steps back, widening the distance between them.
One second he'd been sure there'd be no tears, and the next second—smack—reality had slapped him in the face.
Unbearable.
