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“Will you do anything I ask?” I whispered.
His entire frame tensed, yet he nodded as he slowly rose and straightened his spine, his eyes lowered. He wouldn’t even look at me.
“Then.” I paused to sniffle. “Will you help me prevent my bonding with the High Elf?”
We wouldn’t bond anytime soon with me still being far from mature, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t leave with him if he demanded it. Both our people were delighted, but if only they knew what I was planning.
Ayen's lips twitched despite his sorrow, a bitter smile curving his lips. “Your Spider will burn our entire world if he found out.”
I wiped my tears with shaky hands. Ayen observed me with a worried expression, his hands rising to help before pausing, then slowly falling.
“Are you going to sit there and watch me struggle?” I sniffled hard. “I forgave you moments ago, Ayen.”
Because I didn’t have the time or luxury to hold a grudge.
Because they’d been young and foolish, and Am going after them was a choice she would have made regardless of the consequences.
Because I didn’t want to leave with any regrets or strained bonds.
I wanted to savour every moment I had with my close ones, even if they’d deceived me.
“It won’t happen,” I told him.
He furrowed his brows, his head tipped to the side.
“He won’t do anything.”
Ayen's eyes widened again. “How can you be so sure? Do youstillnot know what his kind is capable of?!” he cried with his hands flying around frantically. “How can you be sosurehe won’t do anything?!”
I grabbed his hand and laced our fingers together. Anxious confusion twisted his face, perhaps because I suddenly looked so calm. But I wasn’t calm. I was far from calm, but I’d come to a decision. A decision I’d hoped to prolong but knew would have had to be done eventually.
Everything came to an end eventually.
I gazed at our joined hands, my chest feeling heavier and tighter at the sight, and I squeezed, wanting to memorise the warmth of the hand of a friend I would no longer have.
I raised Ayen’s hand to my lips, closed my eyes and mumbled against his flesh, “Because before that happens… I will leave.”
37
Elanil looked uncomfortable when she became aware of my constant staring as we ate our breakfast together in silence the next day. Staring was the only thing to do when she sat on the other side of me, to my brother’s right since she was his mate, whereas I sat to his left.
I watched the way she ate, how she held her utensils and how she chewed her food slowly. I slowed my own chewing and mirrored her posture. Elanil caught on to my actions and frowned, narrowing her eyes at me before she ate the rest of her meal without looking at me.
She looked even more uncomfortable when I followed her around as she did her tasks for the day, hovering either behind or beside her to observe what she would do, noting every action and decision she made. I followed after her to the revived herb garden and counted the various types of plants she picked, smelling and even tasting whenever she did.
Standing behind her in the kitchen as she cooked was perhaps the most informative. It wasn’t as if I’d never stepped foot in the kitchen to help my mother and sister before, but being in the kitchen simply didn’t give me the joy it gave Elanil. She would add all sorts of vegetables and spices, tasting the mixture now and then with either a frown or a grin. It was like she forgot I was behind her.
Except, of course, when I tried to follow her to her room—which was also my brother’s room—and fell with a loud thud.
I tripped because of nothing.
I looked up with a grimace and, sure enough, she was staring with a mixture of shock and mild irritation.
By nighttime, my bones felt like they would drag me down any moment. Perhaps it was too much for my brain to handle the sudden load of information and memories to process, but every little bit of the day was vital. I never thought cooking needed so much attention and thought; I’d assumed it was adding whatever my hands could find and hoping for the best. If it smelled good, it would have to taste good.
Cleaning was perhaps worse. Going to the cleaning grounds to wash the utensils with cleansing plants seemed fun, until I took in the strong, almost acidic scent and the grime that flopped from the wooden tools and into the water.
Washing our clothes was even worse; there was so much rubbing, huffing, and just… physical strength. My muscles ached from simplylookingat Elanil scrubbing the fabrics.
