Page 28

And She Walks Away

“ H ow long?”

“You see?—”

“How long?” I interrupt, frustrated by her slow pace.

“You’ve been in a coma for quite a while. Almost two lunar cycles.”

“No.” I stop, shaking my head. “That can’t be right.”

She pulls me forward, urging me to keep moving, not glancing back. “It’s true.”

Two lunar cycles. Lost.

“You see,” she continues, “when they brought you in, you were already in stage three.”

“Stage three?”

“Ahn’Dar had infected your body. You were going to die. At any moment.”

“Die?”

“Yes. So it’s not exactly surprising that you were in a coma for so long. Now, come along. We need to move through one of the halls.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

We enter a larger room filled with furniture—sofas, dressers, chairs, and handwoven rugs beneath our feet.

The rugs are as black as doves’ feathers, embroidered with strange white patterns: symbols resembling arrowheads, bone fragments, and clusters of stars.

The walls are lined with paintings and flickering torches.

High along the sides, narrow, rectangular windows let in as much sunlight as possible.

Several pairs of eyes turn toward me.

Elves sit in the seating areas. Three to the right, two to the left. Star elves. Dark skin, red eyes, horns. They’re silent.

Before I can take in more, we’re back in the corridor, and within moments, we enter a vast hall. The air is thick with the smell of coal, freshly made bread, and sizzling meat. Despite everything, my stomach growls with hunger, twisting with longing.

Kathraanis releases me, but not without a sharp look, then walks toward a hatch in the wall. Two elves stand nearby, loading food onto deep wooden plates, likely imported from Aarilion or Delarion. Kathraanis picks up two of the plates, offering a brief nod to the elves at the hatch.

“Kathraanis,” murmurs one of them.

“Greetings, Kathraanis,” the other says.

Kathraanis turns and strides silently toward a table in the far corner of the room, expecting me to follow.

The hall is more extensive than any dining room in Parae, filled with long tables made of pale wood. So far, we’re the only guests, and the only sounds are those of the workers behind the counter, the meat sizzling in the pans, the water bubbling in the pots.

I tear my gaze away from the corridor we came from and glance toward the next one. The other corridor. Could I escape if I tried? Is Kathraanis fast enough to stop me?

“Don’t even think about it.” Kathraanis slams the plates onto the table with a sharp thud.

“What do you mean?” I follow her, feigning indifference, and sit on the bench across from her. It’s so hard that it digs into my tailbone, and I grimace.

“You know exactly what I mean.” She pushes one of the plates toward me. It scrapes loudly against the wood in the quiet. “Here, eat.”

I pick up my utensils and eat, relishing the taste of salad and tender meat between my teeth.

It’s heavenly, as if I haven’t had proper food in… two lunar cycles. All I can hear is the clinking of my utensils and the sound of my chewing. Kathraanis eats with barely a sound.

“Alright then.” I pause, setting the dirty utensils down on the table. It’s difficult; my stomach is still unsatisfied. “Why am I here?”

“Because we healed you.”

“The sword wound?”

“Ahn’Dar.”

“And what is that?”

She swallows a bite, smacks her lips, and then glances over her shoulder. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

“Several lunar cycles ago, your kin arrived, bringing you with them.”

“Why?”

Her eyes flare. “Because we run the best clinic in Baraatien, of course. And the sun elves insisted we heal you.”

“From Ahn’Dar?”

“Exactly. Ahn’Dar is the black threads that infected you.”

The threads! I remember them from my dreams.

“You had them in your blood, your organs, your flesh. That’s why you were in stage three. The stage before death.”

I nod slowly.

“My guess is you were poisoned along with the wound. From a sword, am I right?”

Poisoned?

I grab the knife and slam it onto the table so forcefully that everything shakes. “So he poisoned me too, that vile black elf!”

Kathraanis blinks a few times, her eyes flicking between me and the knife. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

It must be true. I vividly recall the black threads, always present in my dreams and thoughts, everywhere. And even though I could not see them physically on my body, I could feel them. They were there.

“It’s true,” I hiss.

Kathraanis leans back. “Nildúr is the antidote. A particularly expensive one, I should add. And we only treat star elves.”

I lean my elbow on the table, placing the knife down gently.

“And only those who can afford it, of course. As you can imagine, we can’t take in every elf who shows up begging for help.”

“Mmm.”

“It wouldn’t be practical, and we’re not in the business of charity. There are plenty of ordinary clinics for that.”

“Why did you agree to treat me?”

She scrapes a small piece of meat onto her fork and pops it into her mouth along with three peeled peanuts, spilling sauce on her clothes without a care in the world. I wait impatiently for her to finish chewing.

“Your kin tried to leave you here, but they had no coin to pay with. All they could offer were Aarilion driads, which means nothing to us. Less than nothing.”

“Why—”

“We turned them away. But your kin, Daeroal, would not give up. A few days later, he returned. Alone. With you and your necklace.”

I place my hand on my throat, remembering that my only piece of jewelry is gone. “You took it? You took the necklace?”

“We took it as little as you took that food. Your kin gave it to us.”

“It wasn’t his to give.”

“Are you saying you’d rather have died?”

“It was the only thing I had left from my mother. She gave it to me before she died.”

“I’m sorry.” She glances over her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I snap. “Give it back.”

“I can’t, of course.”

“And why in the fires not?” I slam the knife onto the table.

“It’s part of the price you pay for being alive.” Her eyes flick to the side, briefly landing on the daggers at her belt before shifting toward the corridors.

“Part of the price? Look at me when you speak.”

She turns to face me, her eyes blazing. “I’ll get to that. Let me finish.”

“You can’t?—”

“We agreed to heal you, after all.”

“Apparently.”

“The vaccine is unpredictable with sun elves. That’s partly why we only accept star elves.”

“Unpredictable how?”

She fiddles with something under the table, likely her daggers. “It was created for beings like us. Star elves. We’re made of… tougher material than you, which you’d understand if you thought about it.”

“I don’t agree with that.”

“Well, in reality, no one was particularly shocked when you died.”

“Excuse me? Are you telling me I died?”

“That’s correct. The day after we started the treatment. Just as we feared and as we explained to Daeroal repeatedly. That the risk was high.”

“I’m dead? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Now, let’s calm down a bit.” She presses her lips together and leans back farther, almost as if trying to distance herself, before looking over her shoulder. “Do you even want me to continue? I’m missing a crucial meeting for this.”

“Keep going.”

“Kathraanis!”

I see an elf with messy hair rushing across the stone floor, his footsteps echoing and his breaths labored. He stops beside Kathraanis.

“What’s the issue?” she asks, her voice calm.

The man glances between her and me, opens his mouth, flushes, and then closes it again.

Kathraanis’s eyes narrow. “Is this about…?”

He nods briefly.

Kathraanis rises, pushing her half-eaten plate to the side. The utensils clatter, and food spills across the table. “I’m sorry, Iszaelda, but I need to leave now.”

“Aren’t you going to?—”

She looks down at me, her gaze sharp and commanding. “I trust you’ll stay on the grounds and won’t try to escape. Is that clear?”

“Why must I stay?”

“It’s of the utmost importance. At dawn, we’ll continue our conversation, and I’ll?—”

“At dawn?”

“—make sure to explain the rest.”

“But what in?—”

“Pull yourself together, sun elf!”

I rise, placing my hands on the table. “What am I supposed to do until dawn?”

Her eyes spark. “Sleep.”

“Sleep?”

“You need to. Go back to your room and sleep through the dusk and night. I’ll arrange for someone to show you around at dawnday.

“Why—”

“Good night, sun elf. Until we meet again.”

She walks away, leaving me alone with my questions.