Chapter 21 #2
We arrive at the stables, where an older stable hand hunches over a horse’s leg that he bends backward over his knee.
He takes to the hoof with a sickle-like tool, removing dirt and clipping the nail short.
He grunts as we lead our horses into their stalls.
I give Claude a handful of oats from a sack hooked over a wood post, and he lips them from my palm.
I mutter my gratitude to the stallion, remove the longsword from his flank, and strap it to my waist, then close his stall door behind me.
The man doesn’t say anything as we hurry out of the musty building.
To Ether , my thoughts remind me.
My heart jumps into my ribs. The feeling of emptiness from before now fills with a strong desire to see her again, and it is almost enough to satisfy the absence of magic crushing me.
With a smile, I succumb to the temptation to run to her. To find her. To give her the tallup. To watch her consume it. Heat explodes down my arms and legs, ready to bolt at the first opportunity.
But I need the fish first.
“The fish, if you would,” I say, clearing my throat. My hand lays flat before Ronan.
He blinks, then stammers as he removes the satchel from his body, “I know you’re excited, but please, remember who you are. Remember who she is. Try to be subtle. About your…magic. And about her identity.”
I take the fish from him and cross the bag over my front. My sweaty hands dry themselves on the front of my shirt.
“I wouldn’t risk her safety over this. I’m merely anxious,” I admit. Ronan raises an ivory brow at this, but I shrug as a smirk crosses my face. “This is strange, though. Why the sudden concern for Ether?”
My aide gags, his tongue lurching like a goat’s. The retch that gurgles in his throat almost compels me to do the same. Especially as I get another whiff of the dead fish.
“You’ve mistaken me. I care for your safety, Your Highness.” He sighs when my smile widens. “Which means, coincidentally, she also must be kept safe. She puts you at risk. That is all.”
I chuckle. “You’re explaining an awful lot?—”
“Oh, come off it, Ramiel. She’s an elf . I would never dream of caring for her in any special way. Let’s leave it at that.”
His words carry an anger I hadn’t anticipated, so I don’t press further.
Something about his reaction calms me. I’m almost…
relieved he doesn’t harbor any special feelings for the elf.
Though I could tell by the way he grimaces around her, and Pluto for that matter, that his feelings are, indeed, far from any level of attraction.
And they seem to revolve around all elves.
“Why care about my concern for the elf or, lack thereof, anyway?” he asks, placing a hand on his hip. He grins and shakes his head. “You’re stalling. Go bring her the damned fish!”
He gives me an encouraging shove. I laugh as my legs release the energy they’ve stored and take off through the servants’ quarters. I peek around corners nonchalantly to check if Ether is in any of the rooms. For all I know, she may be doing one of the mundane tasks maids do.
A warrior washing the dishes. Doing the laundry. I’m not sure how I’d react to such a sight.
A few minutes pass as I blur past room after room, though it feels like an eternity. The fish feels heavy against my body as I maneuver the halls, and my heart continues to throb in my chest, anxious and filled with the desire to see the elf again, to confirm she is well.
I turn a corner and find Bernadette bent on a knee, scrubbing a stain on the wall. She doesn’t seem to notice when I approach her, so she jumps when, breathless, I ask, “Where’s Ether?”
After she recomposes herself and rises to her small height, her lips turn up.
“At the training grounds, I believe. She seemed to have been shaken, so I relieved her of her servant duties today to clear her head.” She huffs a breath and stares at me with sincerity.
The moment lasts a bit too long before she decides to tell me whatever is on her mind.
“I think Ether may still have nerves from yesterday. She had an audience with His Maje?—”
“What?”
Bernadette flinches at my snarl.
I shake my head to level my breathing. All excitement instantly drains from me, and I’m left with the cold, hard, dead thing wasting away in my chest.
Ether’s meeting my father could mean several things. Several horrible things. I’ve never heard of him meeting with a maid. Does he know she’s an elf? No… He’d have killed her already. Then what could he have possibly called her for?
I snap my head to the side, fury and fear aggravating the hair on my arms.
“The training grounds, you say?”
“Yes, Rami. I believe she just left. You’re likely to find her there if you go now.”
Before she can finish speaking, I’m tearing down the hall. The tallup’s body pangs against my stomach. Its eluviam is strong, pulsating. Alive. Warm. And yet, I no longer desire to consume it. Now more than ever, I know Ether needs it. Arioch knows what transpired between her and the king.
Once I exit the stairwell leading to the grounds, I plow across the field. It is nearly empty, with a row of wood targets pinned to boulders lining the edge of the castle’s woods. My breath comes in short wisps. I rest my hands on my knees to keep my focus clear.
It takes a second, but my heart flits to its regular pace at last. I squint at the dewy grass, the blades glittering under the sun. The rocky soil appears to ripple to the beat of the pounding in my head.
That’s when I feel it. A foreign heat, appearing there as a sunburn does, festering under the skin in my right arm.
At first, it’s subtle, barely noticeable.
Then it bursts, like I’ve been thrown into a vessel of ice-cold water and promptly yanked into a sauna.
My skin blisters along my right forearm, searing with a pain I can only compare to being carved into with a hot knife.
My scream is soundless as I collapse to a crouch, then topple to my side, clutching my arm, rubbing roughly at the caustic bruising.
Just when the burning becomes unbearable, it stops.
I roll over, my breathing slowing. The skin still burns beneath my hand.
The sky above is scattered with clouds, the grass twitches around me, and the trees rustle in the distance. Nothing is amiss.
What just happened?
After a minute, I sit up, suck in, and study my arm.
A residual heat swirls within the muscle, but no pain.
It feels as a fresh scrape does, but where the soreness is most intense, an outline appears.
Its design is a shade darker than my olive-tinged skin, swirling in loops and lines that create an abstract shape.
It darkens, then glows momentarily before settling into my skin as a freckle might. Casually. Permanently.
I swallow.
Have I been cursed?
Just as the thought crosses my mind, an indescribable presence tugs at my chest, prompting my body forward and lifting my chin.
My forearm flares slightly, though this time it’s simply warm, and tame compared to what I’d just experienced.
My mouth drops open, and I swear my heart stops when I see who stands before me.
Her hair is undone and whirling around her as a separate spirit.
She wears the garb castle servants wear, but the fabric is looser than usual, exposing her pale collarbone to the sun’s glare.
Her petite frame is limned with gold, and her features are sharp and soft in all the right places.
But she stares down at me with a hostility mixed with confusion and fear instead of her usual, unwavering confidence.
For a moment, I wonder if the king had said something to her, to change her, to beat her into submission.
Her gaze flashes to me, to the ground, to my arm, where the branding mark is.
She pulls her right forearm behind her, almost defensively, before stepping toward me with the kind of grace that defies reason.
Each step whispers of power and restraint and something dangerous.
The confidence has returned in her swagger, the tick of her hips, and she moves closer.
I shouldn’t be watching her this closely, and yet, I realize, not watching her would be its own form of torment.
She is beautiful.
The sudden desire smoldering beneath my cheeks and around my neck makes breathing a laborious task.
Somehow, I barely resist the impulse to leap up and imprison the elf in my arms.
That would be quite uncouth.
And she might kill me.
“I’ve brought you a tallup,” I proclaim loudly to cover the roaring of my heartbeat. If she were any closer, I’m sure she’d hear its rapid pace. She might even feel disgusted. Might? Who wouldn’t be?
Something has happened to me. As soon as she eats the fish, I should go someplace far away until my body stops craving hers like a single-dose fatal poison. I need to get far away until this madness subsides.
She kneels next to me. I remove the satchel and open the end to present the fish.
“Thank you,” she mutters. She retrieves her dark blade from somewhere inside her clothing and begins filleting the fish. Guts spill onto the grass, but I find it hard to gag when her presence is so tantalizing. I almost cannot bring myself to take my eyes off her.
But I do, agonizing as it is.
Her proximity keeps my body heat from dropping. Seeing her makes it worse, as my eyes can’t help but rake over the exposed skin on her body, assuming it’s an invitation.
These thoughts are not your own , something within me says coldly.
I try to focus on the translucent black sphere hidden within the fish’s gills. Ether removes it and spins it once in her hand, then pops it into her mouth.
She moans as she swallows it down.
Her shoulders relax, her eyes close, and she tilts her chin to drink in the sun.
Her breaths are steady, her heartbeat strong.
When her arm emerges, it bears the same mark as my own.