7. Ava
AVA
Ava clutched Jerrid’s arm as he shoved her behind him, his hand remaining on the edge of her hip. One of their attackers dropped from a boulder above them and spun, wielding a wicked-looking blade.
The man—no, the girl—shoved her weapon beneath his chin, driving him backward and onto the toes of Ava’s boots.
She winced and jerked her feet loose.
“She’s an elf!” another female shouted, a hint of panic lacing her tone.
More shouts exploded as their attackers surged around them. Ava pressed tight against Jerrid’s back as the perimeter of attackers closed in. They were everywhere, covered in dirt and grime. Many of them were young, barely more than children.
They were all female.
And every last one of them was human.
Her mind exploded with questions as the human women and girls crowded against them, baring their teeth and raising weapons of the most bizarre variety: hoes, pickaxes, shovels, make-shift spears…
The muscles on Jerrid’s arm rippled beneath her fingers. She realized a second too late that he was preparing to attack. Gasping, she clawed at his arm and tried to hold him against her.
“Let go, lass!” he snarled, trying to shake her off.
“Don’t!” She leaned up on tiptoes to rasp into his ear, “They’re not warriors. They’re not fighters. Look at them!”
Jerrid went still, his muscles hard beneath her fingers. His eyes roved over the group of women, and she knew by the way his muscles twitched the moment he realized what they were really up against.
Frightened women and children.
He lifted both hands in surrender, clearing his throat loudly. “All right, now look here. We’re not aiming to cause any trouble. We’re just passing through.”
“Passing through our back door,” the wild blonde girl who didn’t look a day over sixteen snarled. “With an elf.”
When her gaze flicked to Ava, filled with such venom, a chill swept down her spine. Why did this human hate her so much? She didn’t even know her.
“Aye,” Jerrid said cooly, his fingers pressing a little harder against Ava’s hip. “I can’t deny that she’s elvish. We can all see that—gray skin and pointy ears and all that—but you can also see the state that she’s in. She’s no threat to you.”
The girl’s fierce eyes shifted focus back onto Jerrid. “Why are you traveling with the likes of her? Tell me that.”
Jerrid’s cheek lifted, and Ava realized he was smiling.
“There now, that’s a question I can answer, sure enough. Ava was kidnapped, and I came into the Shadewood to rescue her. You can see that she’s injured, can’t you?”
A murmur swept over the group.
“You came to rescue her of your own choice?” one of the other women asked, a stocky girl with freckles on her nose and two thick, bushy ponytails sticking out from both sides of her head. “Why would you do that?”
Jerrid shot a glance at Ava, a warning in his eyes, before he smiled at Ponytail Girl. “Ah, well, I came after her because…because she’s my wife.”
Ava went rigid as horrified gasps rippled around the group, but she managed to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t know what he was doing, but she had no choice but to play along.
“You married an elf?” Ponytail Girl asked incredulously. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugged. “For the same reason a man marries any woman.”
Another woman pushed forward, leaning over the stocky girl’s shoulder. She was older, but not much older than Ava herself. “And what reason would that be? Because she can’t give you children.”
This jab sliced deep and wedged into Ava’s heart, but she forced her features to go as blank as possible, hiding the pain behind her dullest expression.
“Perhaps not,” Jerrid said in a quiet tone that would have made her believe him under other circumstances, “but maybe that wasn’t what we wanted. I’m not elvish, you know, and we didn’t marry because of the treaty.”
“You’re trying to tell us that you wanted to marry her? That you”—the speaker, a girl with curly hair and a scar down her neck, made a gagging noise—“love her?”
Jerrid tugged at Ava’s hip and pulled her against him. Her skin prickled, but she tried to relax into his side and look like she belonged there. That she wasn’t playing a role she was ill-suited for.
“I love her,” he growled, his chest rumbling against Ava’s shoulder. “And anyone who lays a finger on her will answer to me.”
The girl with the dagger barked a laugh. “So, you’re telling us that someone kidnapped your elvish bride, dragged her into the Shadewood, and that you came after her? Who kidnapped her, then, and where is he?”
Jerrid’s arm tightened around her waist. “Now, that’s a long story.”
She bared her teeth and pressed closer, glaring up into his face. “Then you best be telling it quickly, mate.”
Jerrid’s smile widened, and he dared to look away from the girl and glance at the others. Ava stared at him, a little concerned he was about to unleash his dragon side on these poor women. Why else would he be smiling unless he thought he was about to come out on top of this strange situation?
She couldn’t let that happen.
She’d met his dragon, and she couldn’t allow him anywhere near this village. Whoever they were, whatever they were doing here in the Shadewood, they didn’t deserve the devastation of a dragon in their midst.
“Look,” she began and cleared her throat nervously, “I’m a healer. We were on a mission to find a cure for the prince. I’m sure you don’t get much news out here—”
The blonde girl with the dagger snorted.
Ava let her gaze skitter over the girl’s face before flicking over the others crowded around them. “Yes, well, we were attacked by a traitor to Eroth, and I was kidnapped, and Jerrid came to rescue me. Just like he said.”
“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing in our ruins!” someone snapped.
A rumble of agreement swept through the others. Ava raised a hand in hopes of placating them. Anything to keep Jerrid and his dragon from doing something they would all regret later.
“I can explain that too. Our dragon is injured, and we need medical supplies.”
“And now there’s a dragon.” Ponytail Girl scoffed. “That’s a likely story. She sees that we’re human and wants to win our sympathy.”
“I’m human as well,” Jerrid said mildly. “If I’m not enough to reassure you that we mean no harm, I’m sure our injured dragon will convince you that we’re telling the truth. I can take you to her, if we can just have some supplies. Needles, thread, bandages…”
An explosion of protests erupted from the crowd. Ava pressed tighter against Jerrid’s back, half afraid someone would smack her with a shovel in all the confusion. His free hand moved to rest over hers, trapping it between his callused fingers and his forearm.
Somehow, it was a comforting sort of entrapment.
The thought sent her emotions spiraling in a different direction, and she wished she could pull away and put some distance between them. She didn’t want to try to interpret what those ideas might mean.
But she didn’t dare move with the chaos going on all around them.
And there was that little matter that they were supposed to be married…apparently. Whatever had given Jerrid such a ridiculous idea?
“Steady on,” a deeper voice bellowed over the melee.
Ava’s head snapped back. This voice sounded male.
Jerrid’s body also stiffened at the arrival of the newcomer. The girls around them began to ease backward, parting to allow a thin figure clothed in a tattered tunic and trousers to make his way down the stone steps to stand in their midst.
The middle-aged man with dark hair and a short beard took his time looking Jerrid and Ava over, a strange smile plastered on his face.
It was a forced sort of smile that didn’t quite go to his eyes.
But at least it was a smile. It was better than shovels and hoes aimed at her head.
“Well, well, we have company.” He rubbed his hands together briskly and allowed his gaze to linger on Ava.
Jerrid’s hand tightened over hers in a silent warning.
“This doesn’t concern you, Finnr,” the blonde girl said as she eased away from Jerrid. “You’re a guest here.”
He laughed dismissively. “Oh, really, Brynja. I’ve been here long enough; that excuse doesn’t work anymore. Besides, with all the hunting I’ve been doing, my voice has surely earned some kind of vote at the table. No?”
“You have contributed to the cooking pots,” Brynja said grudgingly as she lowered her blade, but only fractionally. “But you agreed to our rules when we allowed you to stay here. We can’t take any risks, or everything we’ve built here will fall apart.”
“She’s right,” Ponytail Girl said. “I don’t want to go back. I won’t go back.”
The girl’s expression hardened and somehow grew more fragile at the same time. Where had she come from, and why didn’t she want to go back? Many of the other women and girls nodded their heads in agreement.
Where had they all come from?
Ava took a stabilizing breath. “I don’t want to cause any problems. If we can just have some medical supplies, we’ll leave. And you’ll never see us again.”
Brynja’s head snapped in her direction, her expression contorted in disbelief. “We can’t trust you. If we let you go, you’ll bring the others back.”
Shouts of denial broke out from the others. Jerrid squeezed her hand, but what was he trying to convey? That she should continue, or that she should shut her mouth? If the alternative was him letting his dragon run amok, she had no choice but to keep talking.
“I won’t tell anyone. And no one knows where we are. Jerrid and I are out here alone. There’s no one to tell. We’ll just go back to Eroth, and you’ll never see us again—”
“Back to Eroth?” Ponytail Girl shrieked. “She’ll bring the soldiers!”
“Worse!” someone else snarled. “She’ll bring our husbands.”
Oh flames. Understanding washed through Ava in a sickening flood.
These women weren’t in Gelaira of their own choosing. They weren’t invaders or even the families of invaders. They’d been brought here by force, as part of the peace treaty, in order to wed dark elf citizens and preserve the dying lines of Gelaira.
“You’re peaceweavers,” she whispered without thinking.