I knelt in the damp mud, staring up at him. Anger flooded through me as I clenched my fists at my sides. My nostrils flared as I hissed, “How dare you? You call me stupid? I’m not the one working for the House that wiped our entire people off the face of the planet!”
Fenris narrowed his gaze. “You think I have a choice? That I wanted to forsake Thelrena and all that she stands for?”
The traitorous elf rolled up the sleeve of his tunic, unveiling the swirling green tattoos that ran from his wrist all the way up his left arm. They twirled, forming intricate markings of leaves and woods.
As I watched, they shifted on his skin, as though they were alive and trying to rearrange themselves.
I snarled, drawing my gaze away from his arm. “We always have a choice.”
He shook his head, running his hand over his face. “Not me. By the time High King Edgar got to me, I had already watched my entire clan be murdered. I wasn’t even Mature when his guards swept through the land and took everything from us.”
“That doesn’t explain how you are here and the rest of our people are not.”
For a long moment, Fenris didn’t respond. He stalked away from me, his cloak billowing in the wind. I watched the elf—the Earth Elf—and I wondered about Remington’s audacity. Did the prince feel so secure that he didn’t care if the last two Earth Elves in Ithenmyr spoke without supervision?
The answer came to me instantaneously. Of course he did. He was confident in his power.
Prince Remington, also known throughout Ithenmyr as the Red Shadow, son of the Crimson King, was renowned for his cruelty and his power.
The only Death Elf with more power was his father, the High King. Rumor had it that even in the entirety of the Four Kingdoms, their power was unmatched.
I called out to Fenris’ retreating back, “How can you work for him?”
“He made me!” the Earth Elf yelled. The male huffed, his nostrils flaring as he pivoted on his heel, marching towards me. His face contorted as he stared down at me. “You understandnothing.”
“Try me,” I spat.
Fenris thrust a cloth at me that he pulled from his cloak. “Not. Now. You need to wash. There’s dried blood on your face. I can’t take you back looking like this.”
Dried blood. From the beating. Anger, fresh and new and powerful, swept through me.
I splashed the cloth in the water, wincing as the material came in contact with my face. It did feel good, though, and so I dipped the cloth three more times, wiping it on my tender cheeks and then my hands.
I peered into the water, staring at my reflection. Purple and blue bruises covered most of my flesh from my shoulders down. My face held a mark from Remington’s hand and was swollen, but I thought it would probably go down in a day or two.
But my eyes.
My green eyes reflected the utter despair I felt in my soul.
Shuddering at the look in my eyes, I dragged the cloth through the water, disturbing the reflection. As I washed, something came to me. I stilled for a moment as memories of my time in the tower flooded through me.
When I was done and felt more like myself, I turned to the other elf. He was pacing nearby, his back to me.
My voice was calm and steady as I pushed myself to my feet. “I remember you, you know.”
Fenris stilled. “What?”
“It came to me while I was washing. I remember watching you from my tower. Every time the king came to visit me, you came with him. I always wondered who the elf was, dressed in fine velvet and sitting atop the king’s horses. You used to go wandering off into the King’s Forest for hours at a time. You didn’t look like you’d been coerced then.”
Fenris came back, a mirthless laugh escaping him as he gestured to the woods all around us. “The High King keeps me fed and clothed while he drags me around his kingdom to do his bidding.”
“Why?”
He huffed. “Don’t you get it yet, Aileana? The reason you and I are still alive?”
“He wants to breed me,” I whispered as a shudder of revulsion roiled through me. I’d been told my purpose from the moment I could talk. “I’ve always known that.”
Fenris shook his head, a wild look in his eyes. “Heneedsus.”