8. Draknir

Istorm out of my quarters into the cold night. The stench of smoke and unwashed bodies assault my senses. Torches flicker dimly against the dark canvas tents, muted conversations drifting on the crisp air of night. In the distance, the towering pines of the ancient forest beckon, where I hope to find solitude.

Fuming from the butler's insensitive words, I stalk past patrolling guards. Their crimson eyes follow my hurried pace—the mindless thuds of weapons striking the ground grate on my nerves. I have to get away from here.

"Draknir? Where are you going?" I hear the low, rumbling voice of a man I'd much rather not talk to now. I wave off the soldier with a simple flick of my wrist, ducking off the path.

My father's entourage will be here in a week. One week, until I'm confined to a woman I don't know.

I need to flee into the night, and fast. My mind races with plans of flight as I head for the back gate, keeping to the shadows to avoid detection. I long for the solitude of the ancient forest, to clear my troubled mind with a long run under the pale moonlight.

But before I can slip unseen into the dark forest, a small figure blocks my path. I halt abruptly, then roughly shove aside the human girl. But she clings desperately to my leg, causing me to stumble.

It"s her – the timid human female I spotted last night wrestling a scrap of bread from the jaws of a suru near the river. She looks up at me with wide, pleading eyes brimming with tears that reflect the glowing moon, her gaunt face etched with desperation.

As the human girl kneels pathetically before me, I take in her bedraggled state. Her dress is caked with mud, her hair hanging in ragged clumps, soaked from the rain. Angry welts and bruises mar her pale skin. She has the look of one who has been mistreated and cast out, like a stray batlaz.

"What happened to you?" I ask bluntly, scowling down at her battered form.

"I—I was looking for work, but they threw me out into the street," she stammers, avoiding my gaze.

"What kind of work?" I press.

She hesitates, her cheeks flushing. "I...I tried to apply at the brothel nearby. But they took one look and rejected me straight away."

I snort in disgust. Only the most desperate human wenches sell their bodies. This girl must have fallen far to consider such degradation. Still, the scorn in her voice reveals a spirit not fully broken.

"And you think a dark elf will offer you refuge?" I sneer. "We do not pity your kind."

Desperate tears fill her eyes. "Please, my grandmother will die without medicine! No one else will help us..."

Her raw despair gives me pause, stirring up memories of my youth begging on the streets, hungry and alone. This girl"s wretchedness touches something deep within me I thought long buried.

Did my mother have to beg like this?

I grab her arm and haul her roughly to her feet.

"Cease your pathetic sniveling," I command, fighting an unwanted pang of empathy. "I will procure this medicine you seek, but you must swear an oath to repay this debt."

Hope flickers across her battered face. "Yes! I vow to do anything you ask. You have my oath."

I search her eyes for any dishonesty but find only earnestness. In truth, she reminds me too much of my desperate young self. With a curt nod, I turn toward quarters, yanking the bedraggled girl along behind me.

"What ails your grandmother, girl?" I ask bluntly.

The girl hesitates. "I...I"m not sure exactly. She took ill so suddenly. Her breathing turned raspy, and she grew weaker by the hour. She fell and hit her head. Our local healer says she can do nothing."

I scowl down at her. "Then how do you know she requires medicine? Old age takes many eventually."

"Please sir, she"s all I have left," the girl begs desperately. "I will do anything to ease her suffering, even just a little."

I grab her arm and haul her roughly to her feet. "Enough sniveling. Take me to the old crone, I will assess if she can be treated."

Hope flickers across her battered face. "Oh thank you, kind sir! Please hurry, this way." She tugs at my arm eagerly.

We have not gone far when a voice calls out from the shadows. "Draknir! Where do you creep off to with this human wretch?"

I turn to see Rathnor emerging from the darkness, his scarred visage twisted in a sneer. The hulking warrior falls into step beside me, eyeing the girl with disgust.

"This does not concern you, Rathnor," I say tightly. "I go where I please."

He barks a harsh laugh. "Not for long. Enjoy these last days of freedom before your bride arrives. The captain's told all of us about your prissy little visitor earlier." His meaty hand descends on my shoulder. "We cannot have our prince consorting with vermin."

I shrug off his touch. "Have care how you address me," I warn, eyes flashing. "My choices are not yours to make."

The girl cowers behind me as Rathnor crowds closer. "You always were soft on humans," he spits. "I should gut this wretch for befouling you with her filth."

My blade is at his throat before he can blink. "You forget yourself," I snarl. "Begone from my sight."

With a final glare, Rathnor melts back into the night. I sheath my weapon and turn to the trembling girl. "Come. Before I change my mind."

Am I really sticking my neck out for this girl?

The girl glances back nervously as we leave Rathnor behind. "Thank you for sparing me, my lord. You show great mercy."

I scowl in the darkness. "I do as I please. Your fate was never his to decide."

Still, her gratitude kindles a faint ember inside my hardened heart. When did I last hear words of thanks? This waif sees some shred of light in me yet.

Hard as I try to cling to old hatreds and hurts, something in me stirs, like a long-dormant seed finally sprouting toward the light. Try as I might deny it, this chance encounter has awakened echoes of who I used to be before the harshness of life burned away the best parts of myself.

She wisely keeps her head down, not wanting to draw the ire of any who would punish her presence here.

As we step outside the gates, I pull my cloak tight, wary of being spotted with this human, but compassion stirs within me against my hardened instincts. To ease an old woman"s suffering reflects no weakness, I tell myself, though uncertainty looms as the girl leads me into the unknown night.

"You have a good soul, dark elf. I will not forget what you have done this day." Her soft words weaved through the evening, carrying us closer to her home.