Judging by his behavior, Marcus hadn't cooled off in the least; he spent the entire day trotting a good ten meters ahead of them, and didn't so much as glance back once. Leonie could hardly wait to finally get off the horse and talk to him, but her plans quickly fell apart, because when evening came, Marcus didn't stop with them.
"Where is he going?" she asked Dorian anxiously as she watched the man ride away.
"We'll reach the others tomorrow, so he's going ahead to inform them of… recent developments."
Leonie didn't understand when, exactly, they had discussed this, but the thought was somewhat reassuring. What reassured her much less was the fact that she would now be alone with Dorian. To hide her unease, she began unpacking some food for them and piled it onto a blanket she spread near the now cheerfully crackling fire. She settled close to the warmth and, with her good hand, passed a few slices of food to Dorian.
"How did you light the fire?" Leonie asked, as if idly, and Dorian raised an eyebrow. After a day like this, that was the last question he'd expected, and it surprised him so much that he actually smiled for a moment.
"It's not that complicated, just a bit of magic."
Seeing the confusion on her face, he shrugged.
"Elves command different elements of nature. That's what we call magic. Most can only do small things — light a candle, or warm the water in a bath. Little conveniences for everyday life. We divide ourselves into several castes. Floaters, Shapeshifters, Water Elves, Firecallers… Forest Elves. Each of us has a different gift. We're born with it. In some, it appears very strongly, in others it's only a faint echo of a blessing, but the magic is there in all of us, and we can strengthen it with certain ancient incantations. A few among us are blessed with additional abilities, but those are very rare. It's far more common that we learn to manipulate our surroundings with various spells."
Leonie listened with her mouth slightly open. It was hard to wrap her mind around the thought that all this was real. How had she lived so many years in this world without knowing her own people? How much more was there that she didn't know?
"What kind of magic do you have? Are you a Firecaller?" This was her second attempt to find out; the first time, he had deflected the question.
"In part," he answered just as curtly now, and guilt stirred in him, even as his voice stayed light.
"Members of the royal family usually have more than one gift. It may not sound too arrogant if I say I dabble in bits of every branch of magic. Perhaps not just dabble…"
He shrugged as if it were nothing, but Leonie cut him off.
"You can change shape? Into what? Will you show me?"
Her curiosity overrode all caution. This was the most unbelievable thing she'd ever heard. Could she do something like that too, if she learned? Ah, no doubt she was one of those elves whose power was barely there at all.
"Let's save that demonstration for another evening," he said, finding the disappointed expression on her face oddly endearing. It was like denying a child a slice of cake.
"What if it's just your hand?" she tried again. She wanted so badly to see what shifting looked like that Dorian had to admit, if he didn't want to hear about this all day tomorrow as well, he would have to show her something. He huffed out a breath and lifted his hand, wiggling his fingers right in front of her nose. In the next instant, massive claws grew where his nails had been, and Leonie squeaked in shock. She couldn't take her eyes off the transformation; as she lifted her hand to touch the claws, they vanished, replaced once more by Dorian's ordinary, human-looking fingers.
"Does it hurt?" she whispered, gently taking his hand and running her fingers along his. She felt nothing unusual — as if nothing at all had just happened. Then she glanced up and met his wide eyes and yanked her hand back at once, as though she'd grabbed a hot coal. The memory of his expression that morning flashed through her mind, and shame flooded her. Dorian must find it incredibly uncomfortable to be near her after everything that had happened. He was a high-ranking elf, a king's son, and Leonie was a nobody who'd been tossed to him like a used rag…
"I'm sorry," she murmured, but Dorian only shook his head. The changes he saw in her were astonishing. She could close up and open up and close again within seconds, apparently for no reason. At least, he had no idea what kind of battles she was fighting inside.
"It's time to sleep," he said, issuing the order in his usual, no-arguments tone. He waited until the girl silently arranged herself by the fire, facing the flames. Then he lay down directly behind her and pulled a blanket over the both of them. Leonie lay stiff in his arms again, as if she'd swallowed a tree branch.
Dorian had spent the whole day chewing on what to say to her about their conversation that morning, and now he felt it was time to share the result of his day-long work.
"Leonie," he said softly, "I want to apologize for forcing the truth out of you this morning—"
He would have gone on, but she turned over, and all at once their faces were so close that the words caught in his throat.
"You only asked questions. It wasn't your fault," she muttered, and though he disagreed, he decided not to push it. He soothed his conscience with the thought that she already had enough to deal with, and that for now it would be easier for both of them if he didn't burden her with the full truth.
"And I'm sorry you ended up fighting with Marcus because of me," she added. She really did miss the other elf's cheerful company.
"Marcus and I always fight. But we're like brothers; it's not that easy to separate us. And he has every right to be angry." He sighed. "Monsters like that are executed on sight among our people. Maybe it was a mistake not to go back…"
Leonie's eyes flew wide with fear.
"Please don't go back there. They're much more dangerous than you think."
Of course, Dorian didn't really believe that. They were only humans. They could wipe out the entire manor in the blink of an eye.
"We're going home now, not to the baron. You don't need to be afraid of that," he said. That, too, wasn't the whole truth, but Leonie's body instantly relaxed from the stress that had seized it. They lay in silence for several minutes. While Leonie stared at his chest, Dorian studied her face. There was such a worried look on it that he wanted to kiss the little furrow from between her brows.
"What's worrying you?" he asked, and she swallowed audibly.
"I… You know, this morning…"
She cautiously met his deep blue gaze.
"I understand if what happened… disgusts you. I saw it in your eyes." Her lashes fluttered as she tried to hold back her tears. "Could you… not tell the others tomorrow? I just… I don't want them thinking the same thing you do…"
Dorian stared at her in shock. What in the world did she think he thought of her? It hadn't even occurred to him that Leonie might have misinterpreted his anger that morning, and that she'd been keeping her distance all day because she believed he judged her. He'd assumed she was upset because he'd coaxed the truth out of her.
"Leonie," he said gently, "I don't think anything bad about you—"
She cut him off with sudden vehemence.
"I saw how you looked at me. I've seen that look before. In the castle, people looked at me the same way because they thought I was a whore."
Dorian opened his mouth, then closed it again. He ought to reassure her that he didn't think anything like that, but by the time he found the right words, Leonie had already decided she'd been right about him, and turned her back.
"Leonie—" he began, but she interrupted.
"Let's sleep. I'm tired."
She shut her eyes and tried not to cry. She didn't understand why his opinion mattered so much, when she barely knew him and they'd soon go their separate ways. She had to keep her distance from this elf. While she was busy figuring out how to do that, Dorian was planning the exact opposite. He felt like he had when he was young, when he had no idea how to approach a woman. For now, though, he respected her wish and fell silent. They would have time to sort this out. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell her that in his eyes, her soul was unblemished.
.