Raclahad gasped when she read this, utterly surprised.
Aerhril glared at her.
Elrion stroked his chin, reading it. “If you are not ill, mylady, you would do well to leave before you become ill. I would have you come along.”
“I cannot,” said Aerhril.
Elrion scribbled,Perhaps we can come back in the night, and you can bring Celedin, and I can spirit both of you away.
She shook her head. Aloud she said, “I must stay here. It is important that I stay here. But if I knew my sister would not fall ill, it would be one less thing to worry about.”
“But I wish to stay with you,” said Raclahad. “I do not wish to be sent off.”
“It is only until the sickness is over,” said Aerhril.
Elrion wrote again.Stay here with him, I assume?His face was an ugly sneer. He meant Dathor.
She wrote back.He is the one who overhears. I have some influence over him. I cannot go. I must stay here to keep him in check.
Elrion read it, still sneering. His voice, however, was composed. “Regarding the sickness, we do wish to minister to the sick. Can we not do so? Can Igbar do so?”
Igbar was silent as ever.
“Surely, since he is an orc, he is too hardy to fall ill,” said Elrion.
“I would not think that such a thing would matter,” said Aerhril, glaring at him for saying a thing like that. As if orcs were not as susceptible to sickness as anyone. Elrion, for all his claims to the contrary, was just as likely to think stereotypically about the orcs.
“So, you refuse our help,” said Elrion. “You were always stubborn.”
She met his gaze, saying nothing.
“But we have no choice but to go,” Elrion continued. “If you will not allow us to minister to the ill, we must leave.” He stood up. “Come, Raclahad. Evriane will be ever so pleased to see you again.”
“But I don’t wish—”
“Yes, you do,” Aerhril cut her off. “You and Evriane will be much better off out of this place, away from this sickness.” She gathered up all of the pieces of paper andthrew them in the fire.
Raclahad was there, throwing herself into her sister’s arms. Aerhril hugged her tightly. She whispered in her ear, “I will come for you when it is safe. You can trust Elrion. He will treat you with the respect you are accustomed to. It will be very civilized.”
Raclahad pulled away, eyes shining, but she nodded, and Aerhril could see her sister would go with the man.
They all went to the door together.
When she pulled it open, Dathor was right there. He just smirked at them all.
Igbar did not look at Dathor as they all left.
Raclahad cast one long look over her shoulder at Aerhril.
And then Elrion was speaking to her in a gentle voice, saying that his cook was making a pear tart that evening, and did she like pears, and Raclahad responded, and they went out the door.
Dathor folded his arms over his chest. “You couldn’t resist the chance to shuffle your sister off, I see.”
“I saw the opportunity and I jumped on it,” she said. “Evriane does love Raclahad so.”
He shook his head at her. “But you did get rid of him. Do you think he believed it? The sickness?”
She let out a shaky breath. She had been sure that Dathor was going to know that she was scribbling out messages in there, that their conversation would have sounded stilted or something of that nature. “Well, he left, didn’t he?”
