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Riya gives me a confused glance as I shrug.
We part ways at our dormitories, and I head to bed much earlier than usual.
I dream only of his embrace, his coarse lips caressing mine. Even in my dreams, I feel like an accessory to him. There’s a part of me that hates that, but the much larger part of me is consumed by every little sensation. I revel in it when he nips my neck. And even though his tongue feels like it could cut me, I am suffocated by his kiss, not interested enough in air to separate from it.
Early in the morning, I return to the clearing, my body moving almost of its own accord. I’m too invested to leave now. Getting up, throwing on my clothing, and kicking myself up from my bed, not a bone in my body resists the trajectory of my legs.
I can hear the batta chirping loudly, their sharp, angular wings cutting together in the hopes of attracting a mate. The woods are still partially dark, and in the overgrowth, that darkness grows exponentially.
Skye follows me through the forest. Every noise puts me on edge, and my eyes are both in front of me and behind me as I peer over my shoulder every other second.
She knows. She saw his ears.
I shake my head. There’s no way, if Riya suspected he was a dark elf, that she would have kept quiet about it. She’s scolded me for so much less.
But there’s still some fragment of me that wishes she’d scold me and bring me to my senses. I am hypnotized under the glimmer of those silver eyes, completely in thrall to him. Perhaps I’m not even accountable for this. He could have cast a spell on me, and I’d know nothing about it.
My necklace cuts uncomfortably into my clavicle, and I move it further around my neck, trying in vain to loosen it before realizing that a piece of my hair is entangled in its clasp. I pull it out gently before realizing that I’ve arrived. The clearing stands before me, the first rays of sunlight peering into the grove from above.
Illuminated by the glow, a singular piece of parchment is pinned to the tree, this time by a dagger. Looking closer at the dagger, I can see that its serrated edges are brown with the drying of blood. A cold shiver registers down my spine.
Pulling the dagger out of the tree, a golden band, beautifully radiated by the golden glow, clatters to the ground, falling from the point where the knife penetrated it.
I understand its meaning. It has the same meaning between elven kind and humanity, a universal symbol. My heart flutters but fills with anxiety. My mind runs rampant with the unending flow of questions.
I unfurl the parchment and read it. The handwriting is methodical and tidy but still elegant.
Would you kindly join me in my conquest? Would you linger forever in my embrace? Would you always guarantee me your best? And do you falter when you see my true face?
I retrieve the ring from the soil, picking it up and glancing at it. I run along its edges, gliding my fingers over it. It is smooth and cool to the touch, the same ring I pretended to ignore the other day.
The temptation to adorn my finger with it overwhelms me. I want to put it on, making it clear to him, once and for all, that I belong to him.
But then two thoughts cross my mind.
The more rational one tells me that I shouldn’t commit, telling me that I hardly know him. I only learned yesterday that his name was Thali and became aware of what he was. I am able to silence that thought without much trouble.
The much louder thought tells me that every time I have accepted his gifts, he has remained hidden from me, a continual secret admirer. Only when I left the collar did he come for me.
A wicked smile crosses my face, and I pin the ring back on the tree, laying the parchment back on the ground so he’ll know that I read it. I head back to Lowtown, trying in vain to silence a flurry of thoughts and fantasies.
17
THALI
The house has fallen into disrepair, a particular oddity given the care which my parents always take in ensuring its consistent maintenance. They make my cleaning habits look negligent by comparison.
I tend to keep a safe distance from my parents, but they still make semi-regular family meals a priority. They are not old by any means, but time has made them more sentimental. They want me and my brother to eat with them together, though they’ve forgiven my younger brother, Aylmer, from visiting on some occasions. He’s been tied up in other obligations.
Today, Father has not prepared the cleaning spell for the dishes, the servants are all attending to other business, and the lights are flickering different colors, a sure sign of diminishing reagents. By all accounts, the house is filthy, even when held up to human standards.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” I tell my father. “I’ll stop by the market and pick up some hearthsbloom and goligan leaves. We’ll have the problem fixed in half an hour, and it won’t cost us more than five jetons and fifteen minutes of labor.”
He is insistent.
“I keep telling you, we’ll get it tomorrow when we’re out. Don’t worry about it.”
“What’s this your brother is telling me about you meddling with the humans?” Mother asks. “You know how important this is to him.”
