Chapter 70
Not for a few thousand years,” Kendric promised. “By then I doubt you’ll mind.” Irrissa sank into a chair, barely noticing that Thane sat next to her. Her brain was on autorepeat: Thousand years, thousand years, thousand years. “How long do elves live?” she asked. Everyone looked young and vibrant—even Bronte. “We don’t know,” Kenric said, scooting his chair a touch closer to Oralie’s than he really needed to. “No one’s died of old age yet.” Irrissa rubbed her forehead. It actually hurt her brain trying to understand this. “So, you’re saying elves are . . . immortal?” “No.” A trace of sorrow hid in Kendric’s voice. “We can die. But our bodies stop aging when we reach adulthood. We don’t get wrinkles or gray hair. Only our ears age.” He smiled at Bronte, who glowered back. “Bronte belon
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