"Would someone care to explain what this is supposed to be?" Xav's rough voice rang out as the elves gathered around the dead man. Shock and disbelief showed on every face — except Dorian's and Marcus's.
"I'm guessing you left out a few details when you told your story, Marcus," the brown-haired elf remarked. The youngest-looking one blurted:
"That's impossible! The girl did this?"
They all turned to Leonie, who had no idea what they were talking about. She hadn't done anything. At least, not that she knew of. Besides, her head had started to pound. No doubt a result of the ordeal she'd just been through.
"We need to move on," Dorian said calmly, ignoring his companions' stunned reactions, but no one moved.
"Are you all deaf? Go get the horses. I've no interest in spending the night among corpses."
At that, everyone except Marcus and Leonie wordlessly went about their tasks. Dorian stepped up to the pair and crouched beside Leonie. He slipped his hand under her chin and tilted her head a little to inspect the scratches on her neck. Rage flared in his eyes again.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, studying her face. It took all of his self-control not to explode — and not to drive Marcus into the ground for letting this happen.
"Where were you?" he snapped at his friend over his shoulder. "You should have stepped in sooner."
"I'm sorry. I didn't notice in time that that worm was headed for her," Marcus said, helping Leonie to her feet and turning her toward him. She still looked as if she were in some kind of trance. "Don't be angry with me, Leonie. I should have intervened earlier."
Dorian opened his mouth, but one of the others spoke up behind him.
"Doesn't look to me like she can't protect herself," the elf said dryly, nodding toward the grotesque statue the dead man had become.
"You can't keep quiet forever, you know that," Xav added as he handed Dorian his horse's reins. Dorian swung into the saddle and, in a single movement, lifted Leonie and set her in front of him. Her body felt limp, her gaze foggy and distant.
"We'll explain everything we know once we reach the village," Dorian promised, nudging his horse into a walk and leaving the gruesome battlefield behind. Moments later, all of them were riding at an easy pace, and not a word was spoken. Dorian's thoughts circled endlessly around the slack form he held in his arms. He'd already suspected the truth the moment he realized Leonie was one of them. She had used magic in the forest to stop them from following her, without even knowing what she was doing — just as she hadn't realized she'd killed that man now.
"Say something," he murmured. Leonie hadn't spoken since the fight, and it was beginning to worry him. Ever since the battle, she felt as if her mind had been shrouded in fog, while the pounding in her skull grew worse by the minute.
"It just… my head is splitting," she managed at last. All she wanted was to lie down somewhere and sleep. She leaned her head against Dorian's chest, closed her eyes, and let him keep her steady in the saddle. Somewhere far in the back of her mind, she recognized this headache from childhood. It had always come when she went too long without drinking her potion. Once she'd tried to wait it out, but eventually the pain had turned to unbearable cramps that seized her whole body, and she hadn't lasted more than a few days. The only problem was that here, there was no help.
"You'll be able to lie down soon," Dorian promised, trading a worried look with Marcus. They both felt that something was wrong with her. The soldier had grabbed her, yes, but the injury had been minor; with elven blood, she shouldn't be feeling anything from it anymore. Unease drove Dorian to push his horse faster, and no one questioned his urgency — they had all heard what had happened.
Barely half an hour later, the trees began to thin, and a small, abandoned village appeared ahead. Only eight or ten houses stood there, all built of stone, with nature reclaiming every crack and corner. Judging from the state of the place, its inhabitants had left a very long time ago. Dorian and his squad had chosen it as their base when they'd arrived in human lands.
At the largest of the stone houses, Dorian swung down from his horse and reached up just in time to catch Leonie as she simply toppled off the saddle.
"What's happening to her?" Xav asked as he dismounted with practiced grace.
"I have no idea," Dorian answered honestly, striding toward the house with the unconscious girl in his arms. He called over his shoulder, "Filarion, I need your help."
A tall elf with dark blond, matted dreadlocks stepped forward and followed Dorian inside without a word. They entered a larger front room with a rickety dining table surrounded by all manner of makeshift seating. Dorian turned right, down a short hallway lined with doors. He kicked open the second one and stepped into a small room containing only a sagging bed. He laid Leonie down carefully and smoothed her hair away from her face.
"What do you think?" he asked impatiently.
"Well, if you let me get closer, I might be able to examine her," the other man said calmly, waiting until Dorian moved back so he could sit on the edge of the bed.
"And in the meantime, you can tell me what I should already know. From the look on your face, this didn't surprise you." He spoke as casually as if they were discussing the weather over afternoon tea. He leaned over Leonie and inspected her with practiced thoroughness.
"She's a Forest Elf," Dorian said. Filarion shook his head in disbelief.
"We both know the line of the Forest Elves died out a thousand years ago. Not a single one has been seen since your grandfather took them with him. And this girl can't be more than twenty…"
"And she grew up among humans," Dorian added. "We know almost nothing about her. But you saw it yourself. Only a Forest Elf can manipulate plants like that — and this isn't the first time she's done it."
Filarion carefully unwrapped the bandage from her broken wrist and clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"This is badly mangled, and it's going to be unpleasant to fix, because it set wrong," he said, gently laying her arm beside her and glancing up. "Aside from the hand, there's no physical injury serious enough to explain why she passed out…" He hesitated. "But I can feel her magic. It's flared up — it's wrapped all around her."
Right at that moment, Leonie stirred, and both elves immediately turned to her.
"Good morning," Filarion said, leaning over her and looking into her exhausted eyes. "I'm Filarion, a friend of Dorian's. Can you tell me your name?"
He didn't miss how her body tensed the instant she awoke, and only relaxed when she spotted Dorian.
"Leonie," she said. She didn't even understand why that would be a question.
"And do you remember what happened?" Dorian asked.
Leonie tried to piece together how she'd ended up here. Slowly, everything returned — the elves, the fight, the dead soldier, the headache…
"My head… it was splitting," she said, pressing a hand to her brow and closing her eyes. Now it was more of a dull throb than anything.
"Have you felt that before?" Dorian asked.
"Yes… when I went too long without the potion," she answered uncertainly. Filarion frowned.
"What potion?" he asked.
"I… I don't know exactly. I've had to drink it for as long as I can remember. The baron said it prevented the seizures. And if I didn't drink it, it really did get so bad I thought I'd die."
Dorian raked a hand through his hair.
"How often did you drink it?"
"Every day."
He exchanged a troubled look with Filarion. If that was true, the baron had condemned the girl to a lifetime of suffering — and worse.
"All right," Filarion said after a moment, giving Leonie a reassuring smile. "We'll figure something out. But first I'm going to fix your hand, because you did a lot more damage to it when you punched Xav. I will say, I haven't seen him that stunned in centuries. It was… entertaining."
He took her broken wrist gently between his hands, where it seemed to vanish in his large grip, then nodded to Dorian. Warmth spread through Leonie's body, relaxing her, and her mind drifted to the night she had sat between Dorian and Marcus at the lakeshore. The first time she had ever felt safe. The same feeling washed over her now. At the same time, there was a loud crack, though she didn't feel a thing. Filarion muttered ancient Elvish under his breath as he re-broke the poorly set bones and guided them back into place. After about a minute, he stopped chanting and began to rewrap her hand. As he did, the dreamlike image in Leonie's mind dissolved, replaced by the sight of an old, worn room. Reality rushed back into her thoughts in a flood. Her hand and head ached dully, and she realized she was still lying in bed. Filarion watched her with interest from the edge, and behind him Dorian stood, his expression impossible to read.
"You did this?" she asked in disbelief, and Dorian dipped his head in a small nod.
"All right," Filarion cut in before an argument could start. "You can fight about it later. For now, try to get some sleep. If you feel unwell, just call, and we'll come. If your head starts to hurt again, call then too," he instructed gently. He pulled the blanket up over her and rose. He gave Dorian a look; his friend was visibly wrestling with his emotions, so he stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Let her rest. We need to talk," he said, then walked out, leaving them alone.
Dorian moved back to the bed and sat on the edge, surprising them both by taking Leonie's uninjured hand in his own, very gently.
"You're going to be all right. We'll find a way," he promised, even though he had no idea yet what they were dealing with. He had his suspicions, at least.
"Why are you being so… nice now?" she asked. She didn't understand him at all. During their talk, it had become perfectly clear that what had happened to her disgusted him, then he'd gotten furious with her — and now he was acting as if he actually cared. The pieces simply didn't fit together.
"Kindness is my middle name," Dorian said with a faint smile. Leonie only rolled her eyes, and he sighed, shaking his head.
"I don't know, Leonie. I genuinely don't know what to do with you," he admitted, then straightened the blanket and stood. "Try to sleep now."
With a heavy heart, he left the room.