She got up, looking down on him.
“It’s hopeless,” he said.
“No,” she said, and she wondered at herself. Would it not be easier if he were dead, after all?
“He’ll kill me when he finds me,” he said. “This time he will not do it so quickly. He’ll want me to suffer.”
“He won’t find you,” she said. “No more talk of doing away with yourself.”
16
AFTER SHE TRIEDto run away with Dathor, Aerhril’s ankle was badly hurt. The doctor came and gently put his fingers to her ankle and she screamed every time he touched it, but he wrapped and splinted it, saying it might be broken, but it was not so broken it needed setting. She was to stay off her foot for months, the doctor said, to stay in her bed.
She was trapped there, then, in her room, and she could not go out to see Dathor, and she did not know what they did to him.
She asked when the steward came to talk to her, and the steward only said that it was no more than Dathor deserved.
“You are too soft on him,” said the steward. “It did not matter when you were nothing more than a ward from the Vale. I could not give a care who it was that you associated with then. But now, I have been in contact with your father about a possible marriage contract between you and Celedin. You are the future stewardess of the Peak. Your behavior must be beyond reproach.”
“In contact with my father?” she said. This was news to her.
“After you told Celedin of your family’s plight, I was moved to write,” he said, smiling thinly. She could see that he had enjoyed the idea of it, of being in a position to assist the nae Oir who were suddenly penniless. It had made him feel powerful when he had not felt powerful before. “Theyare ever so grateful.”
She swallowed.
“You are ripe to wed, of course,” said the steward. “But Celedin is young yet. I have told him he must wait until he is at least twenty years of age.” Celedin was between her and Dathor in age. He was not yet seventeen, but he would be seventeen before she was. “So, you will continue on here for the next few years, and we will see to you. There is much to learn if you will take on the responsibility of stewardess. I will not have you bring shame upon this household or this line.”
She only stared at him. She wanted to ask questions, ask why the steward would accept her and not demand that Celedin marry some other girl, the daughter of some nearby steward or warden. She wanted to ask if it was only that somehow, even though the silvans despised her kind, that they also held them in high regard, and there was something desirable about having the blood of a nae Oir elf.
“You are not grateful?” said the steward.
“Th-thank you, my lord,” she said. “It is a kindness I had not hoped for.”
“Yes, we will assume the continued expense of feeding and sheltering you,” said the steward. “You will need new clothes, appropriate clothes for your new role. I will have to hire someone to come and teach you the ways of a lady. You will have to accompany us to dances to represent the household at teas, if you are invited. It will be quite an expense. So, you should be grateful.”
“Quite, my lord,” she said. “Quite grateful.” She did not say that she was confused. And she supposed shewasgrateful, in some way, because she had not known what was going to become of her else.
“You will no longer spend time feeling sorry for the orc,” said the steward. “It speaks to your kind heart, I suppose, which women cannot help, but you must understand that he is set upon ruining himself, and if you attempt to stop him, he will only drag you down with him.”
This was the only indication the steward gave that hethought the story they had told him was anything different than what had actually occurred.
“However, the broken foot,” said the steward. “It is a lesson sent to you by the gods themselves. They are sending you a message that you must take your place in the rightful way of things. Elves do not associate with orcs. You know this, of course.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Yes, I know that.”
“Good,” he said.
“But is he all right? How badly did you—”
“He is an orc,” said the steward. “He could survive far worse than what I mete out to him.”
And she did not see him for months.
For the first three months, she was confined to bed.
After three months was over, she could be up and around, but she was forbidden to go down the stairs, though she thought she could have managed them. But she was forbidden, so she had to rely on one of the male servants to help her down, and often they were too busy to be at her beck and call. She did not make it downstairs often for the next month or so.
So, it was a little over four months before she was able to go outside on her own. She saw him for the first time, and he looked the same as ever, pushing a wheelbarrow of straw and filth off to dump it, coming back to use a pitchfork in the stables to fill it again.
