"What is an elf doing here?"
At Ulrich's question, Ceres's hand instantly shot up, her fingers grazing the sharp contour of her ear. A jolt of pure panic struck her as she realized they were completely exposed. Panicking, her fingertips fluttered down to her collarbone, searching for her enchanted necklace that normally veiled her true nature. It was gone.
In a useless attempt at concealment, she dragged the wet strands of her emerald-green hair forward, pressing them flat against her cheeks. But the gesture was quite futile. The illusion was broken, and Ulrich's piercing gaze had already caught the defining trait of her heritage.
