10 Elowen
10 Elowen
Contrary to popular belief, Elowen did not take pleasure in being sour. Quite the opposite. Living a life attuned to everyone’s
emotions meant feeling everything, all the time. And there was quite a lot to feel in the cramped wagon sandwiched next to
a beaming Vandra, with a rigid Clare and an unpredictable Beatrice sitting across from them. Whenever Elowen glanced up, Clare
offered her a winning smile, yet she sensed nothing but worry coming from him. He was admirable in his attempts to disguise
it, pointing out every so-called exciting feature the road had to offer.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a flock of golden-tipped hamsterjays right there?” He leaned over to get a better look,
pressing a hand on Elowen’s shoulder to steady himself. She felt every bit of his eager nervousness. It was as potent as drinking
three foambrews in a row. “I haven’t seen any of those since I was a young boy. I thought they’d gone extinct.”
Elowen turned to the small window behind her. “Those are rodents,” she said.
Clare laughed good-naturedly. “Seems it might be time for ole Grandhart to make an appointment with a visionkeeper.”
“ I’m Clare Grandhart, the newest face of Vision Glass ,” Beatrice muttered, performing a rather uncanny impression of him. “ With these spectacles, you, too, can see the world as a hero does. ”
Clare deflected Beatrice’s mockery by pretending to hold a pair of imaginary glasses to his face. “I have been told on more than one occasion how striking I look in a pair of metal-rimmed lenses.”
Right then, an unfortunate bump in the road knocked Clare’s head into the roof of the wagon. He let out an agonized yelp,
and Beatrice laughed heartily in return.
“It isn’t funny,” Elowen found herself saying. She did not mean to acknowledge the fraught relationship between Beatrice and
Clare—or to acknowledge Beatrice at all—but she could not condone Beatrice celebrating Clare’s pain.
The comment silenced Beatrice with surprising effectiveness. She leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes as if fighting
off a headache. Good. Let her stay quiet for the rest of this journey.
“Golden-tipped hamsterjays aren’t extinct,” Vandra announced to the wagon, pulling her bag onto her lap to rummage around
in it. “They migrated after the Fraternal Order froze Pollenberry Lake. You can find them along the Mythrian River.” She held
out her palm to showcase brightly colored candies, made to look like crystals. “Would anyone like a Sizzle Crystal?”
At least when Vandra attempted to soften tension, she came prepared with sweets. Elowen popped a handful in her mouth, appreciating
how the crackling sensation required all of her attention. For a moment, she did not have to be the famed Elowen True of the
Four, trapped inside a wagon with every living person who’d ever really mattered in her life. She was just someone enjoying
a novelty candy.
“No Domynia costume today?” Beatrice asked, interrupting the peace as only she could. “I thought it flattered you.”
Elowen squeezed her lips between her teeth. Sizzle Crystals fireworked against the roof of her mouth.
Beatrice paid no mind to Elowen’s lack of engagement. “You know, they never should have brought Domynia back,” she said. “Why would Alcharis burst into tears at the sight of her? Her last act was betraying them, and they’ve spent the last however many years getting over that, and the moment they find out she’s alive, they’re happy ?”
Elowen could bite her lip no longer. “They missed her!” she cried out, though the Sizzle Crystals made it sound more like
They mish’d sher . She spit the candies into her hand so she could argue properly. “They were overcome with joy at the return of their long-lost
love. It wasn’t the time to hold her accountable for past actions.”
“I don’t care if it was supposed to be a heat-of-the-moment reaction, she doesn’t deserve their forgiveness,” Beatrice argued
back. “Not when they’ve spent all this time suffering because of her. They should have been furious.”
When they were young, Beatrice would come over so they could watch Desires of the Night together. She was always a more observant audience member than Elowen, spending hours considering the thoughts behind everyone’s
actions, whereas Elowen focused on emotions alone. It used to make Elowen feel like a less-intelligent fan. Beatrice could
see things that Elowen never once even considered.
It was Galwell who had helped Elowen get over her insecurity, chalking it up to their different magics. Elowen was ruled by
the heart, Beatrice by the head. Now that Elowen had lived through some of the worst agonies life had to offer, she’d learned
it had nothing to do with magic at all. Beatrice believed happiness had to be earned, and it upset her when someone received
it without just cause.
“I don’t know why you’re arguing this with me of all people,” Elowen said. “As if my mind could ever be changed on the matter. Domynia is my favorite character, and she
always will be.”
Beatrice muttered something low enough that Elowen could not make it out.
“What?” Elowen snapped. She was all the way in, ready to see this fight through.
“I said, Typical ,” Beatrice told her, louder.
“What’s typical ? That you don’t think anything good should happen to people who have made mistakes?” Elowen hissed.
“No. That you believe your opinion is the only correct one.”
“You know what they say about opinions?” Clare interrupted. “They’re like bums. Everybody has one.”
“ Shut up, Clare ,” Beatrice and Elowen said in perfect unison.
Vandra clapped her hands together. “Look at that. You two agree on something for once.” She held the Sizzle Crystals out once
more. “Last call for candy.”
“I only meant to lighten the mood,” Clare said. “I don’t see the sense in being miserable at every turn. I recall a night
around the fire when we pledged to have our nails charmed after the quest was over. Remember that?”
Of course Elowen remembered. And surely so did Beatrice. But it wasn’t the point. Elowen didn’t know what good came from pretending
you were happy when you weren’t. All it ever seemed to do was make people believe you had a higher tolerance for nonsense
than you did. Poor Clare may as well have been a rug the way he laid himself out to be walked over, all for the sake of keeping
a peace that could never be maintained.
“It seems our problems only start when someone speaks,” Beatrice told Clare.
“Says the person who spoke first,” Elowen couldn’t help but remind her.
With a gusty sigh, Clare reached out his hand and accepted Vandra’s candy offer, throwing the crystals into his mouth to escape a response. Elowen’s own candy had melted into her hand now, a sticky swirl of colors on the inside of her palm.
“I was trying to make polite conversation,” Beatrice said.
“What’s polite about telling me my favorite character deserves a life of misery?” Elowen asked.
Vandra shifted in her seat. The quick brush of contact—Vandra’s bare ankle tapping against Elowen’s—showed Elowen how uncomfortable
Vandra was with this. For some reason Elowen thought Vandra was impervious to the conflict in the wagon. Discovering that
she wasn’t put a pause on Elowen’s fast-acting fury.
“You’re right,” Elowen admitted to Beatrice, much to the shock of everyone in the wagon. Even the man handling the horses
up front fumbled the reins. “The problems start when we talk,” she continued. “So let’s take a pledge of silence, then. That
will be better for all of us.”
“Fine by me,” Beatrice said.
“Very good.” Elowen removed one of the sticky crystals from her hand to use as a paint. “In fact, I’ll draw a line down the
wagon. This will be my half, and that half will be yours.” Elowen used the colorful candy to mark their division. “This line
will act as an invisible curtain, preventing us from needing to entertain whatever is happening on the other side.”
Beatrice folded her arms. “Wonderful. I don’t even see you over there.”
“Nor do I see you,” Elowen said back.
“Perfect.” Beatrice wanted the last word, and that irritated Elowen to no end.
She opened her mouth to get in one last jab—something clever that showed she used her mind just as well as she used her heart— when she remembered the greater power existed in silence. That was how she had survived the last ten years, and it was how she’d survive the next few days.
In fact, if she had her way, she would never speak to Beatrice again.