Aelthiriel's POV
We left the cave immediately, making it another dot in my long search for freedom beyond the walls of my own kingdom.
Though the wizard said nothing about it, I could tell the Amaleks weren't my enemy, but his. Queen Briana wouldn't stoop so low to have an unscrupulous and greedy breed of rogues like the Amaleks do her evil bidding of riding me off the earth.
The wound by my side hurt badly. Every nerve was a conduit of pain waiting to explode, and every step felt like I was hauling the world with me, using my foot alone.
Raelion moved to my side without a word. He'd made his sword into a sort of staff with which he found his path to me.
Still without a word, his hand closed around my forearm, firm and steady, anchoring me before I could lose my balance.
I leaned into him despite myself, ignoring the warmth of his bigger masculine body. This was the closest I had ever come to a male. The other times had just been me trying to flirt with guards, and that had been done at a very safe distance.
Father made sure every male kept at least five feet clear of me, making it unequivocal that anyone that tried otherwise would have no use for his legs after.
Now, I couldn't understand the ripple of sensations crawling up my skin as this wizard held me to himself to help me walk.
Nor could I understand why my cheeks burned crimson as the heat from his bigger body pressed into mine.
I tried not to look into his eyes and make things any more awkward between us. He had a bad temper, and I couldn't afford to have him drop me. I couldn't last a second without his help—not when my legs trembled like wet leaves.
"Careful," he muttered as we climbed out of the cave.
Even that came out grudgingly, as if he had forced himself to say those words.
"I am," I replied through clenched teeth. "I just… can't move as fast."
"I know," he grunted. "Though I wish you could. This would have been easier for me."
I ignored the thick inflection on the word "me." I'd known he was a selfish, self-centered bastard, so I didn't bother to be angry. Beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd saved me, treated my words, and was leading me to the artifact that can cure my curse. The best I can do right now is to put up with him.
When I still couldn't move fast enough, he adjusted his grip, drawing my arm across his shoulders so more of my weight rested on him.
I stiffened at first, feeling our bodies almost touching beneath the layers of cloth and leather, our arms brushing each other.
But I let myself relax, though every closeness made me realize more and more of my femininity.
The forest swallowed us quickly.
Towering trees blotted out the sky, their canopies weaving shadows across the forest floor. We continued, moving slowly due to my wound.
He said nothing, but the occasional low grumble and the tightness of his jaw were hint enough that he hated that I was slowing him down.
Since we were moving slower. I didn't need to guide him. He managed well with his staff, tearing down the twisting roots beneath our feet, and kicking away the stones slick with moss and lurking where ankles would snap if one misstep was made.
He walked with his head slightly bowed, though he'd tied on a blindfold and hid himself beneath his hood.
Blind, but not helpless. Magic rippled outward from him in subtle pulses—soft distortions of bubbles.
They arranged around him, waiting to be dispersed to the air. I didn't know much about Wizards, but considering the nature of the bubbles and the fact that he had dispersed some earlier in the journey, I could guess they were to hide our trail.
"What do you see?" he asked quietly, speaking to me after more than an hour of silence.
It took me a minute to reply, since I used that minute to guess if he had truly spoken to me or I had hallucinated.
"Nothing yet," I replied. "But the ground is damp ahead. Mud. I think if you're planning to erase our tracks, you should do it now."
He nodded once and grunted under his breath.
The magic spread, delicate and clever. The bubbles were landing on everything we had touched, and the earth softened unnaturally, swallowing our footprints as soon as we made them. Scents blurred, directions twisted.
The magic was great, but still it wasn't completely foolproof. Elves had lived and fought enough wars with wizards to know most of the tricks in their trick book, and the Amaleks weren't easily fooled too.
So I couldn't relax. We kept on like that for hours.
I guided him around low branches and sharp drops and warned him of uneven ground and narrow passes. Though he growled and grunted, as if hating to be guided, he always took and never doubted my direction. It was strange how quickly it felt natural. How easily we fell into rhythm, especially since he had an ego as big as the sky.
Daylight crawled slowly across the forest, then began to thin.
My strength, on the other hand, did not last as long.
Pain gnawed at my side, hot and relentless. My vision blurred at the edges more than once. When my knees buckled, he caught me without a sound, lifting more of my weight.
"Don't push," he grunted.
"I don't have a choice."
"You do," he said, voice low. "Just lean more on me."
By the time the sun dipped low, staining the sky bruised violet, I felt hollowed out. Like if I stopped moving, I might simply… dissolve.
"There," I said hoarsely, pointing ahead to a small cave hidden by roots.
The wizard tilted his head, listening for sounds. Without the eyes, the ears were the next best senses for sight.
"It'll do," he said. "For tonight."
Inside, the cave was narrow but dry. The entrance curved just enough to block the wind.
I sank down onto the nearest stone the moment we stopped moving.
The wizard crouched in front of me immediately.
"Let me see," he said.
"I'm fine—"
"You're not."
He didn't wait for permission.
Carefully, he peeled back the bandages he'd wrapped earlier. His touch was precise and practiced, never lingering. The wound had closed with tissue, but it still had some edges flushed and raw.
"You reopened it," he muttered.
"Walking tends to do that."
He huffed softly. I couldn't tell if that was annoyance or amusement. But knowing him, it was the former. It was like he hated to help me, but some cosmic force was punishing him to.
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he cleaned the wound again, reapplying salve and fresh cloth from his bag.
Outside, night crept closer, and I could feel my curse already beginning to gather under my skin, the familiar pull tugging at my bones.
The wizard could see now with the sun down, though he still didn't lift his head to me. "Wizard," I said quietly.
He paused.
"Yes?" was his usual annoying response.
Perharps it was the pain or the long walk but I felt like talking. Felt like if I don't, I might crumble and submit to my pain. Yet, the living stone before me was my best option.
"We don't know each other's names. Don't you think we should?" I said.
"It isn't important," he responded. "We wouldn't be together for long anyway."
I ignored that again. "I am Aelthiriel, and an elf," I said, gesturing at my long, pointed ears with a jut of my chin. Though he must already know that. "And you, who are you?"
"A wizard," he answered simply again.
"I mean, what is your name?"
All I got was silence. He finished tying the bandage and retreated away from me.
Then finally, his voice echoed low through the cave as he spoke over his shoulders. "Raelion," he paused. "Realion Varkheln."
I glanced towards the cave opening to see the last strands of daylight disappearing behind the clouds. I inhaled sharply, biting so hard on my lips, forcing myself not to make even a whimper as the change began again.
My flesh thinned, my edges blurred like always. The changes stole my vision like always and I was temporarily blind, the world shifting like water before my eyes.
I pressed my palm to the stone to steady myself, to anchor what little solidity I had left, until finally, the curse took over and I became the thing I have come to hate every night for months now—a shadow.
The pain ebbed, and I sighed with relief. We sat in silence as darkness fully claimed the cave.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer, and I found the urge to start a conversation again.
"You never told me where you're from, Wizard. I am from the Elven kingdom of—"
"I don't want to know," he snapped, cutting me off rudely. "And you don't need to know where I am from. Let's keep it that way. Goodnight. The first watch is yours." His expression was calm, but his eyes were tight with a sneer.
He dropped onto the rough walls of the cave, and he pretended to shut his eyes.
"The bastard," I grunted.