4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Aliya

A liya awoke with the sunrise, a great deal warmer than she had been. Her cloak lay bunched up under her head for a pillow. She didn't remember doing that, but the material felt much more comfortable than using her arm. As the memories from yesterday flooded back, she groaned. She was sleeping in a stranger's bedroll…and not just any stranger, an elf! Would it be acceptable to bury her face in the blue fabric and go back to sleep? Something scraped against stone, and she cracked her eyes open.

Across camp, Elessan sat next to three piles of firewood, fletching more arrows for his quiver. The early sunlight cast shadows over the angular features of his face. Two pointed ears poked out from between strands of hair. His skin looked much darker than she had realized last night. The dim lighting led her to assume he was merely the tan of a sun elf. Lilac-colored eyes caught Aliya's gaze.

"A mountain elf? I thought they were extinct?" She blurted the words before thinking. Aghast at her manners, she slapped her hand over her mouth.

A wave of sorrow passed over his face, distorting his features and twisting her gut.

Well done, Aliya. And here he'd been so nice with not hauling her back to Malkov…maybe she could be rude enough to convince him to change his mind.

"True, there aren't many of us left," he said.

In the morning light, he looked young. Were he human, he likely wouldn't be more than a few years older than she was. Elves were basically immortal, though, so their age was hard to guess from physical appearance alone. At least, according to her tutors. But her teachers had been wrong about elves' predilection for kidnapping young women they came across, as well as their simple-mindedness. Perhaps they were mistaken about other qualities, too.

His eyes were a stunning lilac. If she wasn't careful, she would lose herself staring. And wouldn't that be awkward?

What would she look like with eyes that color?

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. You're not to blame for The Purge. It happened long before you, your father, or your father's father were born." He nodded toward the stacks of firewood, and the two furry bodies beyond. "How do you like your rabbit?"

Excitement washed over her. Here was her chance to learn how to live on her own. The crisp chill in the air didn't bother her at all as she sprang from the bedroll.

"Are you normally in such a hurry to light things on fire?" He chuckled. "Let's check your ankle, first."

She quirked an eyebrow at him as he laughed. Unwrapping the bandage, she rolled the joint experimentally. "That feels a lot better! Amazing . You may be more skilled than my father's healer."

He nodded as he probed at it and tested its rotation. "Good, good. That must be high praise. I'm glad." He released her. "Re-wrap it for another day and I'm sure you'll be fine." He paused for a moment. "Your father. Is he a likable man?"

A chill creeped into her gut like black tar as the smile drained from her face. She took two deep breaths to steady herself and swallowed. "Depends on who you are, what he wants from you, and how likely he is to obtain it." She wrapped her ankle, grateful for the excuse to not stare at the elf. "If he thinks it will benefit him, he'll be your best friend. Otherwise, he'll throw you away like trash."

Like he'd discarded her.

Elessan sighed. "No man at all, I suppose, then."

He sounded awfully melancholy for someone who had no skin in that particular game.

"Don't feel too bad," she said. "My destiny was always to be protected and guarded until I could be traded away for something he wanted. I just didn't realize the monster he intended to gift me to until it was too late." Unlike her mother, who had genuinely loved her, the baron had only ever seen her as an investment.

"Hmmm." He was quiet for several breaths. Finally, he gestured to the piles of branches. "Do you see this wood? Tell me about it."

Grateful for the change in subject, she looked at the bundles. Biting her lip, she frowned. What did he want her to say? Wood was wood. She met his gaze. Apparently, he expected her to put some effort in if he was going to teach her. Fair enough.

She gawked at the assortment. "Um… The sticks are brown?"

He rubbed his chin. "Brown?"

"Well, mostly. Those over there—" she pointed to the pile on the right— "are more of a white color."

He nodded. "Okay. Excellent. Any other distinctions?"

Staring at him like a rabbit caught in a trap, she swallowed. "Some came from trees, others from bushes?"

"Admirable guess, but not what I'm looking for. Look closer. Pick it up, touch it. Tell me what you notice."

She selected a few pieces from each group and examined them. After several minutes, she said, "I don't know what types of timber these came from, but they're separated loosely into three piles—small, medium and large. I assume that means something. Also, I think this wood's quite a bit drier than what I used last night. Otherwise, I have no idea."

He smiled, flashing his pointed canines at her. "Yes, well done. The branches are dry, and they consist of more than tiny sticks and pine needles. I would start with a bed of the kindling first, so let's go with that." At her hesitation, he waved her toward the previous night's coals.

Watching him carefully for cues, she picked up two handfuls of the smallest bits and dumped them in a pile.

"Now, use some smaller pieces on either end to rest a slightly larger one over that, and light the fire." He paused. "Without magic."

She scrunched her forehead. "Light it? Without magic? You mean, like, rub two sticks together?"

He chortled. Jerking his head back with an incredulous expression, he cleared his throat.

She raised an eyebrow. "Been awhile since you laughed?"

After a heartbeat, he turned back to her. "Thankfully, we aren't that desperate," he said, ignoring her second comment. He gestured to two rocks lying innocuously off to the side. "We'll use flint and steel. Strike them and angle the sparks to ignite the twigs."

He was crazier than a soup sandwich. Beating stones to start a fire? This must be a joke. She studied his expression, but there was no glint in his eye or anything beyond patient expectation. Perhaps there was some truth to the belief that elves were simple-minded, after all. Well, either way, she'd find out soon enough. If not, she'd be one step closer to building a campfire.

Here went nothing.

She banged the two rocks he'd indicated together as hard as she could. A burst of flares erupted in front of her. Scrambling, she landed on her backside, her heart thumping against her chest. She took a couple of deep breaths as her pulse slowed. Not daring to peek at him to see his reaction, she scooted back to the pile of wood.

By the fourth strike, she managed to direct some sparks into the bed of pine needles, and the fuel started to smoke. He leaned in and lightly blew on the embers until flames caught the kindling and crackled merrily.

"By the mages! I did it," Aliya exclaimed, laughing. "I can build a fire!"

Elessan hid another smile at Aliya's glee. He hadn't heard someone laugh, at least when it wasn't fueled by drunkenness, in decades. Everything about her radiated gold and sunshine, from her blonde hair and tan skin to her rippling giggle, like a series of bells. A sense of serenity crept over him, and for the first time in longer than he cared to contemplate, he was happy.

"I did things backward last night," she said after her chuckles died down. "I put the larger sticks on the bottom and the smaller stuff up top."

"You did well." He stared into the flames, enjoying the pleasant sound of the wood popping. He pulled out two skewers with a rabbit attached and sat them over the fire to rotate. Her attention remained riveted on him.

"We'll be coming up on a village by midday today. I need to go into the town to resupply, and you'll want some warmer clothing, a bedroll and your own flint and steel." Resupply wasn't exactly the correct term, but he had a contact to meet. He turned his gaze from the rabbits to her. He couldn't risk leaving her alone before he'd recruited her to his cause, but she could hardly just parade around in public if the king's guards were looking for her. "How well can you disguise yourself, if I give you spare clothes?"

She frowned as she weighed her answer. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I'm a messenger," he answered, intrigued. "I handle secrets for a living."

That was the understatement of a lifetime.

She swallowed and bit her lower lip. "Disguised as what race?"

How was that relevant? He went with the first thing that jumped into his mind. "Mountain elf."

Aliya fixed him with a hard stare. "I'll need something to drink."

What? The serious expression on her face cut off his objection. He offered his canteen. "It's just water, but it came from a glacial stream. It's cleaner than anything you'd find in a human settlement."

She accepted his offering, drinking most of the contents, then held her hands out to him. "Clothes?"

He handed her a pair of pants and shirt from his pack. She ducked around the pile of boulders to change. "I don't think I'll be able to mimic your accent, so this disguise won't stand up to scrutiny if I talk."

He tried not to listen to the sound of his clothing sliding over her satiny skin. The rest of her body was probably as beautiful as her face. He shifted position, pinching himself hard on the arm. This was what he got for spending so much time alone, turning hot for the first woman to stumble across his path. Worse yet, a human… Covering his eyes with a hand, he shook his head. He needed serious help.

Two minutes later, a female mountain elf stepped into view; a younger copy of his mother.

"Valek!" The word escaped before he realized it. He snapped his mouth shut.

Her skin was now as dark as his, her hair an identical silvery shade. Aliya's own quicksilver eyes were her only remaining original feature. She stood, shifting her weight back and forth, biting her lower lip.

Walking up to her, he rested his hand against her cheek, his jaw slack. She jumped, as though shocked. A hollow feeling opened in his chest and his eyes stung with tears. It had been so long since he'd seen another mountain elf.

"How is this possible?"

She cleared her throat. "You said I needed a disguise." She gestured at herself. "Voilà."

The transformation was flawless. He suddenly had an idea of how she'd managed to avoid detection while living among the nobles. "Is this more magic? A glamour or illusion?"

Shaking her head, she gave him a shy smile. "No, not like you're thinking. I've always been able to do this. I'm some sort of shapeshifter, I think." She shrugged, examining the skin on one arm. "This is nothing. Shifting isn't real magecraft, not like the lightning I shot at you."

She studied him as the minutes dragged on while he sorted his thoughts. "Did I do something wrong? I pulled the features from your appearance, since I've never seen an elf before. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

He waved away her apology. "I was being cheeky. You're quite stunning. I'm not sure I can come up with a good enough story for two mountain elves, though. Perhaps something less noticeable?"

She ducked back around the rocks, mumbling something about wasting water. A minute later, a nondescript human girl appeared, with mocha skin and brown hair.

He rested his chin in his hand for a moment. "How difficult is changing like that?"

She looked away. "Shifting isn't easy. Each shape takes effort to maintain, and some are easier than others. I need a detailed idea of how I want to appear, or it comes out looking…well, not good. My talent is, was, a closely guarded secret. Only my family and a handful of my father's key advisors knew. The ability makes me valuable, over and above my magic. People who found out who shouldn't have, well…" She swallowed hard. "My father killed them."

"He did what?" The sharp words echoed around the clearing.

She flinched. "To protect me. The one I wore before yesterday afternoon is a slight variation on the one I've worn since my fifth birthday, with very few exceptions. I don't like having people die because of me. Because I've used it so long, it's the easiest to get into, with the lowest energy to maintain." She ran her fingers through her hair as she stared at the dirt. "I have a complex about shifting."

He liked her father less the more he learned about him. "Why tell me?"

She glanced pointedly at his swords and bow. "I think you're skilled enough to defend yourself from my father. Also, it doesn't mean much, as I've only known you for about twelve hours, but for some reason, I trust you."

Excellent. All the better to convince her to turn and help the elves bring down the king.

He smiled, stretching his lips and showing teeth. To his surprise, the unfamiliar expression didn't feel uncomfortable. "Because I didn't shoot you?" She shrugged, but said nothing, so he continued, "I understand it takes a lot of effort, but why didn't you change your appearance earlier? Those soldiers wouldn't have found you, then."

She raised an eyebrow and studied him. "I did." Gesturing at herself, she said, "I'm not stupid enough to wear my regular shape. There was someone there—a man, dressed in black with a red stone that did something to my magic. The king has a tattoo that lights up in the presence of mages, and I think that gem does the same thing." Her skin went pale. "It can probably find me no matter what I look like."

He blinked as his mouth went dry. Valek. The king had sent his Arcane Inquisitor after her. He was relentless, and completely loyal to Malkov. She would never be safe. At least, not in the human realm.

"Besides," she continued, "it's not like I can shapeshift on a whim. It takes a lot of energy. I also need to be well-hydrated." She glanced at his empty canteen, discarded at his feet. "Without enough water, my body can't make the change. I didn't have time to buy any beverages." She made a face. "And no one drinks the water in Lions Grove, it's too polluted."

He studied her, with her flawless skin. An ability dependent on access to water. That was a hell of a handicap in a pinch, especially in the human realm, where rivers couldn't be guaranteed to be clean. His eyes followed her tongue as she licked her lips.

She shifted under his gaze, dragging her toe through the dirt. "Did something happen to someone I resembled? The elf?"

He glanced into the distance, tearing his eyes from her as he fought off a wave of homesickness. "No. At least, I hope not. I'm just missing my family, I guess."

Tilting her head, she regarded him with a lifted eyebrow. "Where's home?"

One side of his mouth curled up in a smile that matched the bitter taste in the back of his throat. "A mountain kingdom that no longer exists. Aeth Esari. Though that's not my true homeland. I was raised by my cousins, the sun elves."

He was a private person who preferred his own company and thoughts. But her eyes radiated such intense, innocent curiosity, he put the awkwardness aside. "Ask, Aliya." He turned the meat again. The flames crackled.

"You don't need to answer, but," she swept a piece of hair behind her ear, "why did you run? With your parents, I mean?"

That was a loaded question. "It's hard to explain. My family didn't think I was safe in Aeth Esari. I'm…" He let his voice drift off as he hunted for the right words. "Different from other mountain elves."

She raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth, snapped her teeth closed, and nodded. For the time being she seemed willing to drop the topic. They sat in pleasant silence as Elessan tended the rabbits. When their flesh turned light brown and tender, he pulled one off the spit and handed it to her.

Breakfast was surprisingly tasty, if he did say so himself. The fire lent a subtle smoky taste to the juicy meat.

"When you're not lurking in the dark, waiting to rescue people, what do you do? Are you a courier for a noble house?"

Ha! And another loaded question. "I'm a messenger of the realm." That was one way to look at it, at least. "I haven't been given the honor of guarding my house, and I have yet to be blessed with a family. Beyond my parents, of course." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Aliya pulled the last bits of meat from her rabbit. "That sounds awfully lonely," she mused.

"I've never minded. Truth be told, I like my privacy." Until now, but he had no plans to tell her that.

He finished his breakfast and spent several moments debating if he should ask her why she was running, or if the question would scare her off. She'd said she trusted him. Maybe she would answer.

Eventually. If he didn't push her too hard, too quickly.

The sun beat down on his back. The day was passing. They needed to get moving, or they wouldn't reach the town in time to secure lodging and visit the market. Or for him to drop off his message. He would ask her later. Tonight.

"Come," he said, standing. "We need to pack up camp and be on our way before the day gets any older. If we see any animals today, I'll teach you how to identify their footprints."

At least then when she was on her own, she'd have enough knowledge to not starve to death while she fled the Arcane Inquisitor.

The sun climbed higher, casting shortening shadows across their trail. Aliya had a talent for identifying rabbit prints, with their distinct hopping pattern. Deer weren't too hard, either.

The rest of them, though…

She ran her hand over the top of her head, pulling her hair away from her face as she stared at the new footprints. "They're badger tracks. See the two little back-toe indents?" She clenched her jaw and scowled at the gleam in his eyes.

It was almost like he was laughing at her.

Crossing her arms, she rested her weight on one hip and tapped her foot at him. "You're making all this up to tease me, aren't you?"

Elessan bit his lips to hide the smile and shook his head. Raising his finger, he pointed behind her. She followed the gesture, to find the marmot in question sunning itself on a boulder twenty feet away.

"How many front toes on the print?"

She studied the indentation again. "Four."

"And on a badger?"

She sighed. "Five." She hadn't felt this inept since that stupid magic instructor her father had hired in secret from the Mage College all those years ago.

His warm hand squeezed her bicep. "Don't worry, you're doing great. It took me years, decades, to learn all I know. You can't expect to master everything in one day."

Some of the tension between her shoulder blades released. At least he had more reasonable expectations than her old teacher.

The afternoon passed pleasantly as she redoubled her efforts.

She pulled up short when he led her to the tavern next to the market in a little fishing village. This inn, being farther from the king's personal holdings, was less likely to be watched. She hoped. Taking a steadying breath, she lurched forward.

Someone had scrolled Free the mages, kill the King! MU Unite! in white paint on the side of the building.

She brushed the lettering with her fingers as they walked by. Her skin came away white—the paint was still wet. Biting her lower lip, she glanced at Elessan as she rubbed the pigment away. Someone should tell the building owner before the guards noticed such a treasonous message and punished an innocent person.

Elessan, his ears and facial features hidden behind a deep hood, turned to her and whispered in Elven, "Are you okay?"

She'd ask what MU stood for later. "Yes, I just want to be off the streets," she said in kind. Even in this nondescript human form, the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms pricked like someone was watching her. She tucked her chin tight against her chest.

Something flashed across his face too quickly for her to identify.

"Of course." He guided her up the steps. "Follow my lead."

The common room was quieter than she anticipated, but for early afternoon in a riverside hamlet, perhaps that should be expected.

"How old are you, anyway?" The question had been eating at her all day. "You look about my age, but you're an elf, so…"

Elessan glanced around the empty room. He kept his voice quiet when he answered. "I stopped counting when I got close to two hundred."

She blinked at him a few times as her jaw went slack. Two centuries? He'd been alive to witness the start of the Elven War.

"Though, with our life spans, I'm not considered much older than you by my people."

She bit the inside of her cheek. Would she want to live that long? It would mean watching everyone she knew die. She peeked at him from beneath her hood. For an elf living in the human realm, it must be a very lonely life.

Ignorant of her thoughts, he led her to the man behind the bar. "We need a room for the night," he said, putting a silver piece on the counter. "With no visitors." He added a second coin.

The barkeeper ogled her and sneered.

Aliya's eyes widened as her face grew hot. How dare he presume such things? She opened her mouth, but Elessan squeezed her arm firmly. At the warning, she bit back her words and glared at the man as Elessan tugged her upstairs.

They passed several rooms before locating theirs at the end of the hallway. Elessan unbolted the door.

A single mattress dominated one wall, with a hearth opposite. A small table and stool sat beneath a tiny window, which overlooked the street below. The room was spartan but would suffice. Except for the one bed.

Sitting down in the chair, she peeked at him from the corner of her eye. "You have business in town?"

He nodded. "Yes. A message to deliver, and I need to resupply. Do you want anything other than a bedroll and the flint and steel? A warmer cloak, perhaps?"

"Oh. Good idea." Fishing around in her purse, she froze. What was a reasonable price for such items? "Will five gold pieces be enough?"

Elessan stopped digging through his pack and gaped at her. He met her eyes and closed his mouth with an audible snap. After a deep breath, he said, "I'm sorry. I thought you were being cheeky. That amount of money could buy us food and lodging for a month. Two silvers should be plenty. I'll bring you the change." He paused as he set a round-cut polished moonstone on the table and rubbed his hand over it once. "You probably shouldn't let anyone know you have so much coin on you."

She frowned. Really? Five gold was a lot? A single ball gown cost three times that.

He glanced around the room. "I know this isn't ideal. I'll give you your privacy while I go out. I shouldn't be more than a few hours. You'll be okay?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine. Go do what you need to do." If she knew half what he did about surviving in the wilds, she'd stay there and avoid coming into town at all. Surely the forest had enough supplies to meet his needs?

Handing her his flint and steel, he gestured toward the exit with his thumb. "Jam these underneath the door after I leave." His eyes flicked to her. "Just in case the man downstairs gets any untoward ideas."

Aliya's pulse skipped a beat. Swallowing past a suddenly dry throat, she nodded.

He stared at his backpack for several heartbeats, patting the swords on his hips. Undoing the intricate knot, he pulled out a dagger. "Here, keep this, too."

Her heart leaped into her throat as her hand tightened around the hilt. She held it to her chest. "Thank you."

With a nod, he closed the door softly behind him.

She followed, jamming the rocks beneath the door as he'd directed.

Once his footsteps faded, she studied the weapon he'd given her. The design emblazoned on the sheath matched the medallion on his backpack. Gingerly, she slid it out of its scabbard. About a foot long, the blade was covered in delicate flowing patterns, and the metal reflected blue when she flashed it toward the light. An elven dagger. Weapons forged by the elves never dulled or rusted. This was likely worth more than her father made in half a season.

Maybe he'd let her keep it? Something like this would be useful when she was on her own, at the Mage College. Just in case the king came looking for her.

The handle was wrapped with worn leather, with imprints from Elessan's hand. Placing her fingers in the same grooves, she swung the dagger back and forth. Adding her other hand to the grip, she thrust forward as though she were shoving the steel through Malkov's gut. The sharp edge would slide between his ribs nicely. Maybe she'd even feel a pop as it pierced his heart.

She sat on the bed and stared at the weapon in her lap. It would be beyond amazing if Malkov died, and she could be free to live her life, magic and all. She scoffed. As if the king's mage-detecting tattoo would let her near him with anything like this, even if she had any clue how to handle it.

She ran her hands over the broad side of the blade, tracing the etched patterns. The metal felt cool and smooth.

Ouch! She put her thumb in her mouth and sucked. Surprise, surprise, the edges were sharp. Cramming the dagger back in its sheath, she set it beside her on the bed.

Aliya bit back a sudden yawn. All the stress and the unusual amount of walking today were catching up with her. She folded her cloak into a pillow and laid down, letting exhaustion take her.