By the time Leonie woke the next morning, Dorian was no longer beside her. Had she imagined the whole thing?
Carefully, making sure not to put any weight on her broken wrist, she pushed herself upright and tried to move a little. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her entire body, but it was bearable. With considerable effort she staggered to her feet and took a few tentative steps.
"Well, well, looks like someone's feeling better," came Marcus's cheerful voice from behind her as he led his horse closer. Dorian rode alongside on his own mount, watching the girl in silence. Relief loosened something in his chest when he saw that she could at least stand.
"We're leaving soon. Eat something and freshen up," he threw over his shoulder.
Leonie frowned. His high-handed tone was more than a little grating. She would have dearly liked to tell him exactly where he could stick his orders, but experience had taught her that it was unwise to antagonize pompous men like him. It was always she who paid the price in the end.
"What Dorian meant to say," Marcus cut in, elbowing his friend sharply in the side, "was that we should get going soon, and we'll be riding all day again, so you'll need your strength. Please, eat something."
He handed her a piece of the same elven travel food as the day before.
"Still not poisoned," he said with a grin.
To his great surprise, Leonie gave him a faint smile. "Thank you," she murmured, taking the food and sitting down.
After everything she had gone through, those simple words of kindness almost made her want to cry. But her moment of fragile relief was short-lived; Dorian, for some unfathomable reason even more surly than before, snapped:
"Hurry up. You'll be riding with me."
He turned his back on her and strode off. Even Marcus looked after him with a puzzled frown.
"Don't mind him. He's probably just not used to sleeping next to a woman who doesn't want something from him," Marcus said with a chuckle.
He left the bewildered Leonie there with her breakfast. She quickly stuffed a few bites into her mouth, then, clutching her side, limped after him to where Marcus was securing the packs.
"Marcus," she muttered under her breath, stopping behind him with her head bowed.
"Yeah, little one?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned and looked down at her—she barely reached his chest.
"I… do you think… I could ride with you instead?" she asked softly.
Marcus squinted at the top of her head. He truly pitied this fragile little creature; he could not imagine what she had been through or how terrified she must still be. And she was right—Leonie was genuinely afraid of having to spend all day pressed up against Dorian.
"Please," she whispered.
Marcus sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. He already knew what the girl did not: Dorian always got what he wanted. And judging by how he had reacted when Marcus tried to lie down beside her in the night, he would not be thrilled with this idea either. The other thing Leonie did not know was that no matter how softly she spoke, Dorian's senses were sharp enough to catch every word.
"Look, I'd gladly take you, but you don't need to be afraid of Dorian. He's not—"
Before he could finish, Dorian rode up and cut him off again.
"Stop wasting time. We're late as it is. You're coming with me," he said, fixing Leonie with a hard look.
"And what if I want to ride with Marcus?" she shot back. She was not a sack of grain to be tossed back and forth as they pleased. She did have a will of her own, even if Dorian clearly disagreed.
He raised an eyebrow and looked at his friend. "Marcus."
That was all he had to say. Marcus, with one smooth motion, scooped Leonie up and deposited her in Dorian's lap, despite her attempts to wriggle free. Dorian settled her in front of him as if she were a child. He tried to be as gentle as possible so as not to aggravate her injuries further, but long hours in the saddle would inevitably make everything worse.
It did not take long for the strain to show on Leonie. Trying to find a position that hurt less, she shifted carefully. As much as she wanted to avoid touching him, she had no choice but to lean back against him; she simply could not hold herself upright. Dorian did his best to ignore how soft and warm her body felt where it pressed into his.
He did not speak to her. He was still irrationally irritated that she had preferred to ride with Marcus. He had saved her life; she should at least be grateful… But could he really blame her? If he told her the truth… it would not make anything easier. She might trust him more, might let him a little closer, and then what?
It would already be difficult enough to make his people accept her. Although she had elven blood, everyone would still see her as an outsider. If they hid her away in some little forest village, somewhere the people knew little of the outside world—and had no desire to know more—no one would ask too many questions. But if he kept her by his side, that plan would be impossible. And Leonie deserved a new life, a peaceful one, where she could finally begin to heal. Yes. That was the right choice. For nearly two hours Dorian rode in silence, trying to convince himself of the nobility of that decision.
"Listen…" he began suddenly, just as all those noble thoughts evaporated in an instant when Leonie let her head tip back against his chest in exhaustion.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked at the very same moment.
That was what she had been wondering all along. In spite of what had happened, the man had been unexpectedly… gentle, in his own way. He had eased her pain, warmed her when she was cold, touched her as though she were something precious and fragile. Perhaps he felt guilty. He seemed so serious, so controlled, even with his wild appearance. Ruthless, too. And he had been ruthless. How could he ever make up for that night? What did he truly want from her? Since she had woken, Dorian had not tried to touch her in any way other than to help her. Was he waiting for her to get better so he could hand her over to his people like fresh prey once they reached them?
"Because you're one of us," Dorian said at last, after a moment of silence.
It was a perfectly logical answer. Yet somewhere deep inside, something else stirred, something he tried hard to ignore.
"But… I'm not," Leonie said softly.
"Then who are you?" he asked.
"A nobody," she replied, speaking aloud the truth she had been taught since childhood.
"Why do you think that?" Dorian frowned. He did not like the way she spoke about herself.
"Because… I grew up in the castle. For a very long time I was completely alone. Only Esthelle took care of me; everyone else avoided me as if I had the plague. They didn't like it when I wandered the corridors. The baron strictly forbade anyone from letting their children near me, and he especially forbade me from ever showing my ears to anyone. He never missed a chance to remind me that I was just a half-breed, something that should never have existed. Because I'm an elf, and no one could explain how that was possible. Maybe it was arrogance, but all my life I thought I was the only one. And now that I know there are others… I don't belong with you either. I know nothing about you. About your people. About your home."
Dorian wanted nothing more than to comfort her. She was so young, and yet she had faced so many hardships, utterly alone among a foreign people who feared and despised her. He could hardly imagine how she had survived in a place as harsh as the baron's household. But she was not alone anymore. From now on he would do everything he could to give her a better future. Dorian would…
What, exactly?
His thoughts circled back to the same point: what was he going to do with this girl?
"The only home I've ever known is the baron's castle—and I never truly belonged there either," Leonie went on with a bitter sigh. "After a while I started sneaking out into the forest. It'll sound ridiculous, but sometimes, when I was out there, I felt like the trees were talking to me… the bushes, the flowers… I understood them. I know it's foolish…"
She squirmed a little in his lap, trying to relieve the pressure over her ribs. Embarrassment burned her cheeks. What nonsense. Esthelle had warned her that if she kept talking like that, people really would think she was mad—mad enough to be chained up like some raving lunatic.
"And what did they say?" Dorian asked gently.
To him, it seemed completely natural. There was nothing shameful in it. The elves lived in deep symbiosis with nature; even if they did not literally hear the plants' voices, they understood them in their own way.
"Sometimes they just comforted me," Leonie said quietly. "They sang old songs when I cried, and danced with me when I was happy… after a while they whispered how I could use them for healing."
She shifted again, carefully, wincing.
"I know it sounds stupid, but when Esthelle's three-year-old niece got sick and everyone thought she would die, I was walking in the forest and I felt one of the plants calling to me. I brewed it into a bath and washed the little girl in it, and within hours she got better. Esthelle told me I couldn't tell anyone, but at first I thought it was just coincidence. Then it kept happening. Sick servants and villagers came to me. Somehow word got out, and they all asked for my help, and I… I helped them. When the baron found out, he beat me so badly I was in bed for weeks. Did you know there's no herbal tea for broken bones?" She gave a sad half-smile.
"But I kept doing it, just in secret. They caught me a few times, but most of the time I managed to help. Most of them, anyway."
Dorian glanced over at Marcus, who had been riding unusually quietly beside them. He saw the same question on his friend's face that echoed in his own mind. Could it really be? Everything Leonie had just described pointed toward something they had long believed gone from the world.
And it also proved they had been wrong about something else—that no elves lived among humans. If that was untrue…
Then everything changed.
"I know you think I've lost my mind," Leonie sighed, resigned. Sometimes she believed it herself.
"We don't think that, little one," Marcus spoke up at last, after a minute of silence. Dorian seemed thoroughly lost in thought. "The elves are a magical, ancient people who are deeply connected to nature. Some of us are born with truly remarkable gifts. Maybe even we don't know all of them."
"A gift?" Leonie echoed, a sliver of hope in her voice. "What does that mean?"
"Well… there are different clans among us, living side by side in peace, and each of us draws on different aspects of nature's gifts. I, for example, have the power of the wind. When I call it, it comes, and with certain ancient spells I can shape it. Pretty cool, right?" Marcus said with a wide grin, clearly delighted by Leonie's astonishment.
"That is… really cool," she admitted, smiling at his enthusiasm despite herself. "Can you show me?"
Marcus looked to Dorian, but his friend no longer seemed present in the conversation at all. So Marcus lifted his hand, and leaves rose from the forest floor around them, swirling into a playful dance before their noses.
Leonie watched in wonder as the colorful fragments spun and fluttered in the air.
"This is… amazing," she breathed.
The leaves gathered into a single cluster above them, and then dropped all at once, showering them both. Dorian's head snapped up—not at the "attack," but at the sound of Leonie's laughter. It was like a celestial symphony, and he felt himself soften in spite of everything. He shot Marcus a grateful look.
"And Dorian? What can you do?" Leonie asked after a moment.
The blond elf rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. If he told her the truth about his abilities, it would only give her another reason not to trust him. Keeping that particular secret would only add to the wall between them, but the girl needed time. Or was it he who needed it?
Marcus, seeing his friend's inner struggle, brought his horse closer. Leaning over, he plucked a colored leaf from Leonie's hair and handed it to her with a broad grin.
"Dorian's most impressive gift is how spectacularly he can get on my nerves," he said.
Leonie burst out laughing again, then fell quiet, turning his words over in her mind. Dorian shot Marcus another grateful glance. His friend had always been far better company than he was himself.