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She glances at me. “I found some friends.”
Dirnyn glances back at us quizzically, his perfect nose scrunching in confusion. “Theseare your friends? Why didn’t you come to me first?”
I’m shocked, watching their exchange.
They seem like good friends and not hereditary enemies. She told us she knew him, but I didn’t realize how close they were. Still, even if he is our only hope, I trust him about as far as I can throw him. “She found us in the woods after we escaped from Lord Everan’s manor.”
“Is this true?” he asks her.
She nods. “I thought we could help each other.”
Dirnyn straightens, looking rather conflicted by the matter. “I did not intend to move against him so soon, Mirose.” He catches her arm gently like he actuallycaresabout her. I didn’t know dark elves had such complicated emotions. “But I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Thanks to them,” she says, gesturing in our direction. “Their distraction gave me the opportunity to escape from Lord Everan. We have the same enemy, Dirnyn. It’s our best chance. Won’t you join us?”
His jaw works as he considers our predicament.
When he nods, I can breathe easily again, letting out air I didn’t know I was holding in. “Fine,” he says, glancing between me and Mirose. “I will help you get rid of him. But you cannot wander around these woods or you will draw his guards in. Stay for the night. I have rooms aplenty, and you could all certainly use a bath.”
Mirose catches his forearm. “Thank you, Dirnyn.”
“It’s the least I could do.” He still looks conflicted, but maybe it’s because there’s a monster in his hallway. “I’ll have the servants show you to your rooms.”
21
ARIELLA
Ican only vaguely remember feeling safe, until now. For years, I’ve stood within the Dark Market, cooperating for fear of my life. Then I joined Zyranth in his cavern, and while I’ve learned to trust and love him in time, my first days in the cavern with him were still very unsettling.
The threat of Dirnyn betraying us, or Everan finding us, is still very real, but this is the safest I’ve felt in years.
It feels nice to be able to breathe again.
I chuckle as Zyranth shuffles around the cheese on a platter left for us in confusion.
“You mean we’re supposed to eat this?” he asks me, taking a piece and smelling it. “It smells disgusting.”
“You’ve really never had the milk from a taura?”
“Of course, I’ve had milk from a taura,” he replies. “I’ve devoured thousands of taura whole in my time. The milk is the best part.”
“Well…” I chuckle. “This cheese is just that milk, fermented.”
He picks up another piece of cheese, smelling it again.
“You’re lying,” he says. “They did something else to it.”
He slams the cheese down, denting the platter in the process.
“I don’t like this weak food,” he says. “What the hell is the joy of eating if it doesn’t fight back?”
I can see him struggling within the confines of this manor, ill-adapted to the change in environment. I can imagine him, roaming across stretching wildernesses, mauling everything in sight.
But when I imagine him dressed up, wearing a tunic, and walking within elven cities, I get the urge to laugh.
It’s such a contrast, seeing him standing in sprawling, painted red rooms, among canopy beds and typhe wardrobes. He has to duck to avoid the swaying chandelier above him, which his head has collided with and smashed several times in the hour we’ve been here.
How I was ever so terrified of this creature is beyond me. Watching him in his new environment, my first inclination is to pity him.
