by Casey Odell
“We’re going back to the inn, and we’re leaving tomorrow.” His voice was calm but deadly.
Claire swallowed, looking back at him. She straightened her back and balled her hands into fists. “And if I refuse?”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter.” His voice grew lower as he narrowed his eyes at her.
Aeron appeared again and stopped in the doorway. “What is going on here?” He held a jar in his hands.
“We’re leaving,” Farron answered as he gathered his daggers off the floor and started to head towards the doorway.
“Ah, yes. Come along, Miss Claire.” Aeron stepped aside to let the other elf through. He held his hand out to her and smiled.
“Could I have a moment with the General?” She aimed the question at Aeron. He seemed to be a little more understanding at least.
Aeron glanced at Farron and sighed. “We will be outside, my lady.” He grabbed the other elf by the shoulder, pushed him out the door, and closed it firmly behind him.
Claire gripped her left arm and turned to Bren. “Are you alright?”
Bren smiled, but it was far from luminous. His right cheek had begun to swell. “I’m fine, Miss Claire. You look far worse off than I.” His eyes drifted down to her arm and his expression faded. “I am deeply sorry, Claire. It’s my fault.”
“Where did you go?” Tears stung at her eyes.
“I wanted to watch the match from the stands, but was stopped by the woman I’d entered with. She was asking me questions about you and by the time I was done I saw Aeron rush by. He’d informed me what had happened, so I hurried back here.”
He took her face in between his hands and kissed her on the forehead in a light brush of lips.
“Will you ever forgive me?” He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
“I thought you left me back there,” Claire said, her voice faltering a little.
“Never, Miss Claire.” He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
Some of the tension started to ease from her body and a fine tremble settled in.
“Claire,” Bren said softly as he gazed into her eyes. “Back in Sanre, you were trying to run away, weren’t you? On the morning we left?”
She grew still. How did he know that? Was it that obvious?
“Miss Claire, let me help you break away from them.” His voice grew urgent; a fire lit in his eyes. “Let me help you break your shackles. You deserve better than an arranged marriage. I’m sure your father would understand. I have an ally not far from here. We can hide out there for the time being. What do you say?”
Claire remained motionless as she looked up at the General. Could she really do that? Surely, the elves would come after her. “I don’t know, Bren.” She lowered her gaze to the floor. And who knew if he would feel the same if-- no, when-- she told him the truth. She couldn’t hide who she was forever.
“Think about it, Claire.” He raised her chin up. “I will wait at the western gate tomorrow. All day if I have to.” He kissed her, his mouth finding hers in a desperate press of the lips. “I hope to see you again, Miss Claire.”
He watched as she opened the door, like a puppy watching his master leave. Her heart felt heavy, her mind full of confusion, but at least it helped to dull the pain growing in her body.
23
A warm bath helped ease the pain along her left side and various other areas throughout her body. A lovely purple hue had spread over the upper part of her left arm and down to her ribs. It was certainly the biggest bruise she’d ever had. Although the warm water had washed away the dust and helped to ease her physical pain, it did nothing for the growing mess inside her head. The sweet smell of the lavender petals floating on the water only made it harder to sort through the chaos. Wasn’t it supposed to be soothing?
She had returned to the inn with the elves and insisted on being alone for a while. The tension between the three of them had never been higher and no one really knew what to say. Aeron had made a valiant effort by trying to tell a joke he’d heard back in Sanre, which was very inappropriate, even for his standards.
Claire closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the edge of the large tub. Sunken into the stone floor and covered with blue tiles of varying shades, the tub took up most of the small room, leaving only enough space to walk around it. Oil lanterns dotted the walls, their flames flickering in the breeze flowing in from a tiny window high on the wall. Was it such a good idea to have a window to a women’s bath?
Bren had offered her a way out, away from the elves and their mission. But it wouldn’t be that easy. They would surely come after her and if not them, the king would just send out more soldiers to hunt her down. She didn’t know why the king wanted her or what he had planned. Aeron had been sparse on the details whenever the mission came up and would steer the conversation in a usually repulsive direction. And Farron seemed to have more secrets than an unfaithful spouse, and wasn’t likely to share them anytime soon.
She eyed her mother’s bracelet sitting on the pile of robe next to the bath. She still had to ask the elf about that. Shifting around, she reached out, grabbed the bracelet and held it up to examine it closely. After finding nothing of significance, she rested her chin on the hard floor and gently rolled the bracelet in front of her with her fingers.
It wasn’t so terrible traveling with the elves. Even though she was basically their prisoner, they had saved her many times, and it’s not like they had treated her bad either. They even occasionally indulged her. Although, she wasn’t sure their intentions for her powers were in humanity’s best interest, especially after hearing about the elves’ colorful past.
On the other hand, could she really trust Bren? He was a high-ranking official in Lendon, and it was a little odd that he’d chosen to travel with them instead of his own people. Was he just keeping an eye on some rather unusual travelers or did he have something else planned? His charming personality did seem to blind her a little. Everyone had their secrets; even she did. And her mother as well it seemed.
The bath had grown suffocating. Down time gave her too much time to think and she was still nowhere near making a decision. She paused as she slipped on the long robe. If she did run away, would that cause another conflict between the elves and humans? They had finally found someone with magical powers, and it was unlikely they would just give her up that easily.
After tying the sash tight, she slipped the bracelet on her left wrist. She was grateful the mark hadn’t started to glow in front of all those people. What would have happened then? Would they have gone after her too? What would Bren do if he saw it? Would he accept it or would she be a pawn to him like she was to the elves, to use in some greater scheme?
She wrung the excess water from her hair and ran her fingers through it; she never did get that comb. She sighed. All those problems just seemed to add to the growing pile she already had. She still didn’t know why the centaurs attacked her town and so many others. Nor did she find out anything else about the mysterious army following in the savage’s steps. Did they even exist, or were they just some crazy ramblings from a mad man?
The street was thankfully empty as she made her way back to the inn. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon and stars started to sparkle in the dark blue sky. The sound from the bubbling stream down the block echoed off the buildings.
Rodem was a nice place. Perhaps she could just stay here and let the others sort out their own problems. She could just work at the inn in the café downstairs and grow flowers in her spare time. She had never grown them before, but how hard could it be?
Before she returned to her room, she acquired a small brush from the inn staff. Then she set about the exciting task of cleaning her boots, scrubbing the dust from all the little nooks and crannies. Busy work to keep her mind distracted as she procrastinated her decision-making.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her vigorous cleaning.
“Come in,” sh
e shouted. She sat under the window, her robe and boots sprawled around her in disarray.
Aeron stepped into the room, his face oddly serious. “How do you feel, my lady?” He knelt in front of her, his hair still damp from the bath he’d taken earlier. His dark blue shirt was half unbuttoned and un-tucked from his brown slacks.
“A little sore, but I think I’ll live.” She picked her boot back up and started to scrub again.
The elf snatched her other boot to examine her handiwork. “You know, my lady, it was a rather foolish thing to do, even if you were to fight another woman. Although, I would have liked to see that.” He grinned and set her boot back down. “But you have to understand, that you are my responsibility. If anything were to happen to you, it would be my neck on the line. Besides, I might have grown a little fond of you myself.”
Claire studied him for a second, narrowing her eyes a little. “Is this a confession?”
“You have certainly got spirit, mon lainí, but I like my women a little more… reserved. You have an odd talent of attracting trouble, I am afraid.”
She opened her mouth to say something but realized he was right. She did seem to get in some rather precarious situations. “For once I think I agree with you.” Satisfied with the cleanliness, she set the boot down. They would just get dirty again anyway.
His face grew solemn. “You know, Farron seems to be sulking a little more than usual.”
“And that surprises you?”
“Not exactly, but I do think he is a little upset at what happened.”
“What do you want me to do about it? I already apologized.” She rose to her feet and gathered her boots to prop them at the foot of the bed.
“Maybe you could go cheer him up?” He placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear. “I know of your little talks with him. Do not pretend you have not gotten close to him.”
Heat flushed up to her cheeks and she shoved the elf away. “It’s not what you think, Aeron.”
“Only fools are truly blind, Claire. Even I can see it, and I am much more foolish than you are.” Aeron plopped down on the bed, sprawling out across it. “At least go talk to him. If it is you, then I am sure he will listen.”
Claire eyed the elf. He was up to something.
He gave her a leering look and patted the bed. “Or would you rather stay here with me?”
“I’ll go,” she said a little too quickly. Even if Aeron wasn’t interested in her in that way, she didn’t want to take a chance.
She managed to pry Aeron up off the bed and shove him out the door, even after he so kindly offered to help her change. She dressed quickly in her usual outfit, slipped on her newly cleaned boots, and braided her still damp hair. Although she was grateful for the new shirt the General had bought her, the color was a little too dreary for her current mood. How did Farron do it? Perhaps his attire was the reason he sulked so much.
The Warrior’s Wench was just around the corner and down the street from their inn. She sighed as she put her hands on her hips. She could already guess the type of clientele the tavern catered to. Farron really knew how to pick them. Even though it was less tame than what she was talked into earlier in the day, she still couldn’t believe she was doing this. If the elf wanted to drown away at the tavern, then so be it.
She grabbed the brass handle on the front door, heaved it open, and was greeted by the loud boisterous sound from within. Her eyes scanned the crowded room for the elf from the doorway. As she guessed, men filled the establishment, tended by waitresses in low cut dresses. At least Sanre had some competition.
Claire stepped into the room, ignoring a few stares along the way. After pushing her way through the mass of men, she stumbled into a clear area, smacking away an overzealous hand, the owner lost in the crowd. She turned back around and froze. Farron leaned against the far wall with an arm thrown around one of the waitress’s shoulders, smiling broadly as he talked into her ear.
She could feel her cheeks flush. If that was sulking than she was the Queen of Lendon. She stood unmoving for a second as her chest grew tight; she should have known better. Anger began to boil in her stomach. Aeron had known he wasn’t moping, so why send her at all?
Not wanting to ruin his good time, she turned and shoved her way back to the entrance. She burst back out onto the street; the chill night air was refreshing after the stifling heat inside the bar.
Claire decided to take the long way back to cool her nerves. She wasn’t sure why she’d hesitated back there. Normally she would have marched right up to him and given him a piece of her mind. Was seeing him with that woman that big of a shock to her? That was ridiculous. She didn’t care what the elf did.
“Leaving so soon, my lady?”
Startled from thought, she turned. Farron sauntered down the street towards her, taking his sweet time. She debated whether she should just turn around and go back to the inn or face him now. She didn’t have the energy for this.
He leaned in close when he finally caught up to her and that cocky grin slipped into place. “Or are you running back to your prince already?”
With arms crossed, she just looked up at him.
He straightened up. “Are you upset? I was only talking with her.”
“I’m not,” she countered. But that didn’t seem entirely true. What was wrong with her?
He leaned down close again, his fingers touching the braid hanging over her right shoulder. “That’s only a taste of what I feel, Claire. Whenever I see you with him.”
Heat returned to her cheeks. And so did her anger. “You’re unbelievable.” She knocked his hand away.
“Am I?”
“Are you drunk?” Claire took a step back; she could smell the alcohol on him.
“Not yet.” He shrugged and stood up straight again.
“Well, don’t let me ruin your good time.” She smiled up at him, spun back around, and turned the corner onto the street she hoped the inn was on. Storming off didn’t look as good if you got lost doing it.
She had made it to the top of the small bridge by the inn when Farron grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back, spinning her around to face him. He gripped her upper arms tight as he pulled her close, sending sharp pain down her left arm. His face was serious, almost raw, as he looked down at her.
“He doesn’t love you, Claire.” His voice was low but forceful. “It’s better if you forget about that man. I don’t trust him.”
Claire looked away, fighting the urge to shout at him. “You’re hurting me, Farron.”
He released her and held his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry.”
She rubbed the large bruise on her left arm as she glared up at the elf. “Who are you to say how he feels?”
“Wake up, Claire. Do you honestly think he would care for you if he found out who you really are? Do you forget that he is a General of Lendon? Do not think for a second he wouldn’t turn you over to his king if he found out what you are.”
“The same way you did?”
He flinched slightly at that. “It’s not--”
“I don’t care! I do not care about any of this. I don’t care about your mission, or the elves, or what they what they want from me. And I don’t need this right now!” She turned and started back towards the inn.
“So, what? Are you going to throw everything away to live happily ever after with him? What about your mother?”
“You have no idea what I’ve been through!” Claire whirled around and marched back to the elf, stepping in close, her anger reaching a tipping point. “Do not use my mother against me! I miss her so much it hurts, and I don’t even know if she is alive out there or not. I’ve lost everything-- my home, my family, my life-- and if pining after a man that someone like me would never have had the chance with could keep me from crying myself to sleep, if for just one night, then it doesn’t matter whether he loves me or not. It may be a fantasy, but that’s exactly what I need right now. Not secrets or lies or false hope. I
am grateful for all that you have done for me, but I am sick and tired of being left in the dark. I feel like I’m just some sort of pawn to you.”
“It’s not like that, Claire.”
“And you! You’re the worst of all, teasing me with bits of information. You know a lot more than you let on.” She raised her left arm, her mother’s bracelet dangled from her wrist. “I know you know something about this.”
He tensed as he looked at her arm. “And who gave you that idea?”
“Just stop it!” She balled her hands up and lashed out at him, but he caught her wrists at the last moment. “Stop hiding things from me. I’m tired of it. Why can’t you just tell me? I have the right to know, dammit!” Tears started to gather in her eyes. She was desperate to know something, anything, especially if it involved her mother.
“Some things are better left unknown, Claire.”
She slumped forward, her wrists still tight in his grip. “Just tell me.” Her voice was weak as it struggled past the growing lump in her throat. She was fighting a losing battle.
Farron remained silent.
“You know, I really hate you sometimes. I feel like you make me angry on purpose.”
“That’s because I’d rather see you angry than a sad, Claire,” he replied softly, almost solemnly. “Please believe me, I’m only trying to protect you. Even if that means keeping you in the dark.”
Claire yanked her wrists out of his grasp. “Fine.” She slipped the bracelet off and threw it at him. “Keep your secrets.”
She turned and marched to the inn. Anger replacing the tears. She contemplated taking him up on his offer to let her beat him up, but not even that would help. All she knew at the moment was the decision concerning Bren had just been made easier.
24
The first signs of morning started to creep across the sky as Claire paced back and forth in front of the bed. She’d gathered her belongings and set them on top of the plush quilt, which took a lot less time than she had planned. Somehow, seeing her entire life belongings reduced to just two things depressed her even more. Maybe she shouldn’t have thrown her mother’s bracelet at the elf. She couldn’t ask for it back now, though, she’d made up her mind to meet Bren by the western gate. If she saw any of the elves, her chances of going would be scrapped.