Chapter 10 #2
Xavelor is gone, and she thinks I’m him, and that’s something I need to correct. But what other explanation can I give her that won’t damn myself and the future of the kingdom?
I release a sigh, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Okay,” I whisper. When I open my eyes, hers stare back at me, unblinking, her irises now burning pink. I’m not sure if I even manage to get my next words out, as they are foreign even to me. I’ve never had to explain this before, was never given permission to.
Hardly a whisper, the words dissolve on my tongue. “My name is Ramiel. I’m the crown prince’s brother.”
Ether doesn’t react to my confession, if she even heard it.
When we arrive at the castle’s gates, Bernadette greets us with her warm smile. The edges of her mouth reach to her eyes, which seem to sparkle in the daylight.
It’s rare for her to venture outside the castle, and yet, she appears to be at peace with her station at the portcullis.
Perhaps it’s only my perception, but she seems to stand a little straighter despite her back arched from age.
Her slender frame shakes as she reaches for me, grasping my hand between hers.
“Dear Rami,” she coos. Her eyes flash to my party, giving equal attention to each of them. “Ronan,” she addresses the silver-haired heir. The warmth drops from her voice when she glances just past my shoulder. “And who might this young woman be?”
I know better than to discuss the truth of our situation where so many linger, so I force a smile and allow the old woman to presume whatever she’d like. For now.
“I recently heard that Ramiel brought a new maid with him.” Her words have regained their homeliness. “Would that be you, miss?”
Ether blinks at me, her eyes still the same alarming shade of pink. Her jaw clenches. She whips her small head toward Bernadette, braids flying around her shoulders to reveal normal, human ears as the thick locks settle behind her.
“Yes.” This one word is sharp, hostile. I try to swallow the fear her single-word reply summons to the surface, but the sweat dripping down my back betrays me.
I am grateful for her keeping up our farce, though.
“And what’s your name, miss?”
The elf’s voice softens a bit. “Ether.”
The tension vanishes with Bernadette’s kind, crooked smile. “A pleasure to meet you.” Her light gray eyes meet mine. Her eyebrows lift as if to say, There’s more to this meeting than meets the eye, isn’t there? I nod stiffly, still feeling the phantom tension from moments ago.
“Where do you come from?” Bernadette swoops her arm toward the castle, motioning for us to enter. The soldiers who’d chaperoned our arrival fall into two lines at the entrance as we move forward.
Ether walks briskly past me, her hair cracking like a whip behind her.
She’s a whole two heads shorter than I am, with curious, wide eyes, a petite nose, and full, blushing lips, and yet she carries herself with the confidence of a battle-hardened warrior.
I know better than to match my stride with hers, so I take up the rear with Ronan as I listen for her response.
“An outer village,” Ether says tightly. I blink in surprise at her discretion.
“I came from an outer village too.” Bernadette presses, “What’s the name?”
I hold my breath.
“Nwatalith,” the elf whispers.
Bernadette’s eyes widen with recognition.
She knows the names of elven villages?
Their paces quicken step for step as Bernadette takes us through the servants’ corridor and rounds a corner, leading our group right to my private study.
Once we’re inside, she whips around, closing the double doors to keep our conversation private.
When she turns to face us, her expression is a blend of excitement and fear.
“You’re an elf,” she says plainly. Then, shaking her head, she breathes deeply. “You mustn’t tell anyone else where you’re from. It’s too dangerous.”
Relief lightens the heaviness in my shoulders. The sincerity in Bernadette’s words reminds me of how she spoke to me as a boy, intent on protecting me, no matter the cost.
Thankfully, Ether seems unfazed, like she’d known Bernadette would be able to see through the facade as soon as she revealed the name of her home village.
She’s so unbothered, in fact, that she makes herself comfortable on the floor, childishly crossing her legs.
Her braids fall around her, swirling on the ground like snakes.
I ignore the heat rising along my neck at having an elf in my room, instead focusing on Bernadette, who has started pacing along the front wall.
Her shadow mimics her quick little steps and accentuates her curved nose, which is the most prominent feature on her aging face.
Finally, she stops, a smile turning her lips upward, and she scurries forward to kneel before the elf.
Her hands reach carefully down, lift the dainty pale hands of the ethereal creature, and her thumbs gently brush over Ether’s knuckles.
The elf sucks in a breath and retracts her hands as though my maid has burned her. Her eyes are the color of yolks now, but her cheeks have flared to an alarming shade of red.
“That isn’t necessary,” Ether mumbles, turning away.
Ignoring Ether’s comment, Bernadette raises a hand cautiously to the elf’s ears and gently caresses the bloodied skin there. She frowns even as she says, “It’s a pleasure to have you in the castle, Ether. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
I knew Bernadette would be welcoming, but not to this degree. Does she have a history with elves I’m unaware of? Or maybe she’s simply a sympathizer?
Either way, her words warm me. She doesn’t desire any sort of harm upon the elf.
Ronan grunts next to me.
“Right,” I say, pressing a fist to my mouth to clear my throat. “Now that you’re acquainted, I trust you to maintain her current station as a help to you. However, she is to be my master. My father has requested that I learn to wield magic and sword, so I might become a warrior worthy of kingship.”
Ether gawks at me, her mouth falling open like an empty cavern. Her eyes swim with color, apparently deciding which one to land on.
I decide now is not the time to dawdle, and I’m not sure she’d heard my admission earlier, so I take a deep breath, then commit to my doom.
“I’d like to formally introduce myself,” I say, all but swallowing my fear.
“I’m Ramiel Faunder, the second son of King Azriel and brother to the late crown prince, Xavelor . ”
Ether clenches her jaw again, and her face flushes an even deeper red, though I can tell she’s communicating a deeper emotion this time. Her eyes settle on that startling pink, and her breathing heaves loudly from her nose.
Fury. That’s what pink means . Noted.
“You’re the first person outside of the castle to know of his death,” Bernadette says softly, probably in an attempt to calm the magical creature.
She sets her hand on Ether’s shoulder, and to my surprise, the elf doesn’t move to shake it off.
Then her attention returns to me, brimming with concentrated hatred and distrust.
Her hands curl into tight fists, so rigid that they tremble and turn white. She shuts her eyes, and two delicate tears slip over her cheeks.