Chapter 17 #3
The short lady flinches at my interruption, and the tray of egg pucks balanced in her hands goes flying.
The majority of the yellow fluff sticks to the wooden ceiling, and the rest plop onto the counter, then hit the floor.
Her round cheeks puff out, and her squished, piglike nose reddens as she meets my stare.
Her translucent gold webbed ears fan out like the wings of a dragon, capped with ivory at their spiked edges.
Her ochre-colored skin and hair seem to glimmer under the natural light filtering in from the open front door.
She mutters something about her last batch of the day before she huffs a frustrated sigh and begins cleaning the bits of egg littering the ground. She doesn’t face me as she grumbles, “You shouldn’t be here, princeling.”
My spine straightens at the warning laced into her words.
She’s hardly spared me a glance, and she knows I’m royalty.
How many others have had a similar knowledge they’re simply hiding or unwilling to share?
Ronan steps forward, placing a small silk coin purse on the counter. It clinks softly on the wood.
“Apologies for ruining your evening,” Ronan says with a roguish smile. Pally snarls at him, snatches the coin purse, and waves us away with a grunt. Ronan gives her a nod before turning to me with a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go,” he whispers as he moves past me to the door.
When we step outside, the lush green forest greets us, tinted by the warm sunset.
Somehow, it appears different than it had this morning.
Moss flourishes at the bases of trees, and long-stemmed flowers sprout in the spongy soil, bending under a light breeze.
The air is humid, but not as suffocating as I’m used to. The overgrowth also seems…trimmed.
Pluto, dressed in worn brown and green leather, perches on a flat boulder.
His long, dirty feet curl over the edge, similar to a frog’s.
His bright yellow hair has been re-braided, curling a little where a strong blade of grass ties it off.
When he spots us, his toothy grin is on full display, purely canine and all threat.
He leaps from his rock and starts toward us. Ronan tenses. I’m starting to think there’s an obvious dislike the two have for one another that they’re unwilling to directly address.
“Though the night is fresh, we wouldn’t want to waste it dawdling. Let’s go, shall we?” Pluto’s voice is slightly deeper now, maybe even a little gruffer. But he seems to be in higher spirits. Perhaps his conversations went well during the day.
In one fluid movement, he bounds forward. Ronan and I have to run to keep up with him.
Within minutes, we are well into the thick of the forest. Skinny, frequently trodden paths break away every few feet, likely taking travelers to villages or taverns nearby.
Pluto briskly leads us, his body hardly having to dodge low-hanging branches.
I find myself ducking or jumping over mossy brown limbs every few yards, scarcely tripping over a few to maintain his inhuman pace.
Ronan stays with me, at the rear, matching me step for step.
After a little while, the elf slows down. Though he’s the same species as Ether, his hair seems to be more thickly corded. His gait is also a bit bouncier, his limbs impossibly more flexible.
What exactly is his relationship with her? Are they merely from the same village? Or is there a deeper connection?
“So, you know Ether,” I begin, but the sentence hangs in the air. Small talk has never been my forte, further proven when Pluto’s muscles stiffen as he pushes past branches.
“I don’t mind telling you a bit about her,” he finally says, though his voice is so soft I can hardly hear.
I remain silent, hoping to coax him to continue.
“What are you curious about, Prince?” he asks quietly.
“What does she mean to you?” I blurt the question before I can think, but thankfully, it’s valid. A part of me hopes he’s her kin?—
“We’re lovers.”
My foot collides with a loose stone, and then I’m hopping forward too quickly to regain my balance. Adrenaline and clumsiness fight each other in my arms as my body tips forward, but the battle is lost as my hands flail around, useless in preventing my fall.
Blackness shrouds my vision for a second as a pounding pain surfaces in my right temple.
But I don’t focus on the dullness thudding in my head. Instead, Pluto’s answer spins around in the air like it’s taken a crude physical form, taunting me.
Elves can’t lie , I remind myself. Ether has a lover, and I’ve forcefully torn her from him for my own aims. And now I’m asking said lover to help me find a tallup for her. Of course he would agree right away if it’s for her.
A sudden screeching noise bursts around me, too high a frequency to enjoy, and almost deafening.
My hands press over my ears, but the aftershock of the sound rings in my head anyway.
Then, my body slowly begins to lift from the ground, hovers about a foot up, then rights itself, and I’m standing again.
My head pulses, still, but my vision is much clearer.
Pluto stands a yard away, holding a strange wooden device between thin lips. His eyes shift to a startling shade of green. Not quite emerald, nor deep like jade—they’re arcane.
He reaches to his mouth and removes the small wooden tube, then slides it into his ragged shirt. When he sees my expression, his lips twitch a little.
“Relax, friend,” he snickers, his voice hoarse. “She’s like a sister. Or maybe, more accurately, a daughter?” Something about his explanation makes his smile grow wider, and then he’s crouching, fist held to his mouth to hold in his laughter.
I squint at him, partly from the pain swelling in my head and also because he... lied... to me…somehow. Who would joke about something like that anyway? “Are you telling me the truth?”
His smirk doesn’t disappear as he moves toward me. “What have they taught you in your lessons, Your Highness?”
“That elves cannot lie,” I say dryly.
Pluto presses his lips together, his eyes returning to a light blue color. Then, his jaw clenches tight, a pained expression pinching his eyes and lips.
He must be fighting the urge to cackle in my face.
He gulps something thick down his throat, and a kinder smile spreads over his lips. “Oh, right. That .”
“So it’s a lie then, that your kind is forced to tell the truth.” My voice is cold and unquestioning, but Pluto’s smirk remains.
He shrugs. “Have I told a lie when I wasn’t sincerely trying to mask the truth?”
“You really are bound to the truth, then,” I blurt.
He continues walking into the brush, and we follow. “Bound to it? No. Cursed, yes. But we find our ways around it. It’s suffocating to live day to day without having any secrets, after all.”
Cursed .
The weight of the word is unfamiliar to me, yet frightening at the same time.
The only instances of curses I am aware of are those created as a result of the War of Undying.
The war led to many casualties, but zero deaths for magical creatures.
Humans, however, suffered a great loss and still miraculously won.
King Arioch’s first decree over Aldorin’s residents wasn’t to take their lives, but to whisper dark curses into their offspring, dooming future generations with the burden of their loss.
I wasn’t aware these particular curses included the restriction on elven honesty.
“There are many loopholes within the magical restraints your people put on us,” Pluto continues, his tone unwavering. He clearly doesn’t care he’s admitting this to the son of Arioch’s king.
Or he has nothing to lose by sharing his truth.
I follow him through a path with no overhanging branches, and I inhale deeply. The air somehow feels lighter, fresher, and more alive here. For a second, I forget what we’ve been talking about.
That is, until he glances at me, the sunlight hitting his hair in a way that makes it a brighter, glowing yellow. “I’m surprised my joke caused a royal such as yourself to fall so miserably. And you call yourself a warrior?”
I cringe at his insult but laugh to combat my obvious discomfort. A mini debate battles in my mind over the decision to correct Pluto’s second assumption about my identity. Will he be an ally? Or will he tell others?
Considering he knows Ether is under my watch, he won’t do anything that might risk her safety.
His impatient expression seizes me, but I return it with a nod.
“I’m not Xavelor.” I harden my voice. “And before you make assumptions about my integrity, I’ve never once called myself by his name or pretended to be his person.” My blood curdles thinking about how I’d let Ether believe me to be my brother, costing me her trust from the start.
Pluto stops walking. It’s a sudden, unnatural movement. His body petrifies in the center of the path.
“So there’s a second prince,” he marvels, turning his sloped nose to the blue sky.
“It must be difficult to compare yourself to a warrior’s legacy.
It’s honorable of you to try.” There’s no tone of mockery or surprise in his words, but I can’t help but feel a little annoyed.
I’ve never been called honorable in such a passive manner before.
Or any manner.
“I’m glad you’ve recognized the pure intentions of our kingdom’s only living prince,” Ronan calls from behind, before I can utter a reply.
I gulp as dread fills the air. Not only is my identity no longer a secret, Pluto is now aware of my brother’s death. I watch his face for any reaction, but he merely cocks his head at Ronan. Something calculates behind his blue eyes.
“Speaking of intentions,” Ronan continues, “you’re surprisingly patient for an elf.” Pluto twitches. “How long did it take you to reach the body of the Sanvira? Maybe twenty minutes by the boughs? Or were you lurking around, watching us?”