"I would advise you not to lose your head—and I mean that in every way," the cat-woman said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp, a vigilance the Sun Elf had sorely lacked.
Derek shifted his gaze from the newcomer to her, brows furrowed. The cat-woman nodded toward the dark elf who was tending the light elf's wound.
"You claimed you could handle it," Jasmine said, tightening the bandage with a sigh. "Yet here you are, captured and one hand lighter."
She drew out a small container, sprinkling its contents over the stump. Oils and powders mixed with whispered incantations. The room fell quiet, watching her precise work as if it were its own performance.
Derek cleared his throat and looked back at the cat-woman, urging her silently to continue.
"Are you so sheltered?" she asked, mock surprise in her tone. "Look at her attire—clearly military. And yet, she did not use her blade against your men. She fought with her hands, the hilt, even her enemies' weapons."
She sipped her tea, her eyes catching the firelight as they pinned Derek. "The same reason the Sun Elf chose not to draw his blade. A little discipline, perhaps. A little stupidity. And no small amount of arrogance."
She said nothing else.
"Interesting weapon," Alpha murmured, nodding at the scimitar. Its silver-and-black luster shimmered like moonlight on glass.
"My apologies for the rudeness," the Moon Elf said once she was done with the treatment. She bowed slightly, her tone formal and measured.
I studied the stump. The arm hadn't grown back as I'd foolishly expected. For some reason, I had thought magic might restore it completely, but reality proved far harsher.
Derek had been silent after the cat-woman's words. The Moon Elf straightened and, with a graceful bow, addressed her:
"I greet the Māo Clan."
To Derek's surprise, the cat-woman inclined her head in return.
"Sir Derek," Jasmine said, turning back to him. Her violet eyes glinted as she scanned the hall. "If it is not too much trouble, might we pass the night here?"
Derek studied her—her relaxed posture, courteous tone, the easy way she carried herself. Then he asked, "Us? Who else is with you?"
She chuckled. "Perceptive. We are not alone. One of ours was sent ahead and grew… overzealous." Her eyes lingered on me, and a chill prickled down my spine.
Derek gave permission. Soon after, a carriage of royal blue and gold rattled into the castle grounds. From it descended two more elves—one Sun, one Moon—followed by the figure who drew every gaze.
A Moon Elf.
Her hair was veiled beneath a dark blue headscarf. Gold and silver earrings gleamed at her ears—one set with a sunstone, the other with a sapphire. She wore a robe of deep blue-white, its fabric cut like a thobe, faint undertones of orange glowing at the seams.
"I thank you for your aid," she said to Derek, bowing with grace. "May the sun smile upon you, and the moon share her blessing."
She smelled faintly of irises. Henna coiled across her hands in elaborate floral patterns, and her attendants, dressed in matching hues, set about their work. They served rice in a rich tomato sauce—fragrant, spiced, and warm. Even Regina, pale and withdrawn, ate a little.
"The Frost-Lock will soon be upon us,"
Derek declared, raising his cup. "Until then—eat, and be welcome."
His men cheered. For a brief moment, laughter and the scent of food filled the hall, a strange pocket of peace. Even Regina seemed lighter, though no one spoke of what plagued her.
I caught the cat-woman's calm, secretive smile as she ate in silence. My thoughts stirred uneasily.
The Māo Clan… what manner of people are they really?