“I think I know some information about your past,” he tells me instead, and my eyes widen as I remember what I learned today.
“Vaeril thinks I’m part elf!” I blurt out, and his eyebrow rises in a questioning gesture. “They think they worked out who my grandfather was. The library here is huge, there is sure to be more information.” He appears shocked, and I can’t say I blame him. “Will you help me look for it?”
“Yes, of course,” he replies instantly, and looks like he wants to say something else, but after a second, he closes his mouth and shakes his head slightly, smiling at me. “It’s good to see you again, Clarissa.”
My chest warms at his sentiment, and I’m so conflicted that instead of returning the compliment, I ask questions. “What happens now?”
Rubbing a hand through his braids, he shrugs slightly. “I meet the queen, and then I’ll begin my duties.” His expression turns serious as he pins me with his dark eyes. “But there is more we need to talk about.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?” Anxiety floods my body at the prospect. If he tells me what I think he’s going to say, then I’m going to have to choose and I don’t want to do that. Not yet…even though I can’t seem to stop myself from prodding. Wouldn’t it be better just to get it over with quickly rather than drag it out? My heart thuds painfully in my chest even at the idea of it, but thankfully, he just shakes his head.
“Now isn’t the time, plus, the queen is expecting me,” he explains, and I nod in agreement, trying to keep the sympathetic expression off my face. Just because the queen and I don’t get on doesn’t mean Tor won’t. “I’ll see you soon, Clarissa,” he says with a smile, stepping forward and taking my face in his hands.
For a second, I think I was wrong, that he’s going to kiss me as his eyes drop to my lips. I can see the struggle in his gaze, but he lowers his lips to my forehead instead, kissing the skin there as he breathes in my scent. Without another word, he turns and leaves my room.
“Bye,” I call to the empty room a moment too late, still dazed from his presence. Staring at the door, I wrap my arms around my stomach. The room suddenly feels large and too quiet.
What have I gotten myself into?
“You need to eat more,” Eldrin grumbles from the other side of the long table in Vaeril’s chambers. He’s currently working through his huge bowl of porridge, and I can’t help watching with stunned curiosity. My own bowl is almost empty and had a portion half the size of his, sprinkled with nuts and berries. In the same time it took me to eat that, he was polishing off his third bowl. “You look tired, don’t you ever sleep?” he presses, trying to get a rise from me.
It’s the day after Tor arrived, and I barely slept last night. My mind kept running through everything that happened, replaying every single detail, so I’m sure I look like a wreck. I’m still trying to comprehend everything Master Ardeth told me, and I know I’ll have to go back to the library to speak with him soon.
“How can you eat so much?” I ask in disbelief, as I run my eyes over his body. The muscles in his arm are threatening to burst out of his sleeve as he raises the spoon to his mouth. “Where does it all go?” Eldrin, while bulkier than the others, is pure muscle, and he doesn’t look like he’s got an inch of fat on him.
“He’s a warrior. We need to eat more because of the amount of energy we burn off with our training,” Vaeril chimes in as he returns to the table with his second bowl of porridge. “And he’s right, we need to start fattening you up.” I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, making me feel self-conscious as I continue to eat. I had begun to put some weight back on at the castle thanks to Grayson, but I lost most of that while Vaeril and I were on the run. While I agree with them, I do need to get stronger, after all, I don’t like how their words make me feel insecure.
“Especially for when you start training,” Naril agrees, making my blood run cold. I’d just been thinking that I needed to get stronger, but I hadn’t meant in that way.
When I choke on my porridge, Vaeril has to pound me on the back a couple of times before I can cough out my protest. “Training?”
“You’re part elf, you should know how to fight like one,” Eldrin grits out, shaking his head in disgust as I reach forward and sip my glass of water after my coughing fit.
Vaeril nods in agreement, and I feel a flash of betrayal go through me. “I want you to know how to defend yourself if anything were to ever happen to me,” he explains. A flash of alarm makes me put my glass down firmly as I turn to face him.
“Not that anything is going to happen to you,” I demand, narrowing my eyes as he winces before lifting his gaze to mine.
“We can’t know that.” His voice is much softer now, as if that makes it any better, but if anything, it only stokes my anger and fear even more.
“Vaeril, you can’t talk like that. Just the thought of you dying—” I cut off, feeling sick to my stomach. I’m not sure when I started caring for Vaeril. Sure, when we were escaping and travelling, I cared, but more out of obligation. When we reached Galandell, that obligation disappeared but the feeling remained.
“Sorry, princess, but people die. It’s part of life. I thought even you would understand that,” Eldrin interjects, sneering at me across the table. His hatred practically oozes through his pores and fills the air with tension. His comment stings, especially considering he knows about my history as a slave, but I refuse to let him see he’s upset me. Vaeril is vibrating with anger beside me, and even Naril is watching his brother with a raised eyebrow as if surprised by his behaviour.
Meeting his scornful gaze, I simply stare. I don’t force a smile or try to say anything, knowing I will crack if I do, and he doesn’t deserve that kind of emotion from me. Slamming down his cutlery, he pushes away from the table and leaves Vaeril’s rooms without another word.
Vaeril and Naril stay silent with their eyes on me, barely moving, as if doing so will cause me to break. But I’m not as delicate as they seem to think I am, not anymore. Taking a deep breath, I pick up my spoon again and stir my porridge. I’m not hungry any longer, my appetite has fled with the angry elf who left the room, but I force myself to eat it.
“He’s in a pleasant mood this morning,” I murmur, and they seem to release a breath at my comment, returning to their food.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Naril says, as he stares down at his bowl of porridge, his frustration clearly evident in his voice. “Vae is like a brother to us. We got him back when we had almost given up entirely on ever seeing him again. But all Eldrin can seem to do is make gibes at you.” The pain in his voice makes me pause. Perhaps Naril isn’t as vapid as I had assumed he was. He’s hurting and he needs his twin to help him through it, but Eldrin is dealing with it in a different way—by taking it out on me. I can understand where his hatred comes from, I experienced it myself when I first met Vaeril, but this seems to be more personal than just a blanket hatred for humans.
“He hates humans, and humans took Vaeril,” I respond with a shrug as if it’s easy, like his hateful words simply slide off my back. “I’m everything he’s been taught to hate.”