He carefully gathers the unconscious girl into his arms and heads for the door—
which swings open the moment he reaches it, revealing Marcus's satisfied face.
Dorian lifts a questioning eyebrow, to which Marcus answers only with a brief nod.
He has taken care of the guard with ease.
"Let's move. We need to find the horses," Marcus says, drawing his sword and taking the lead down the corridors.
Dorian focuses fully on shrouding the three of them in illusion, so that any guards they pass see nothing more than a strange night shadow slipping along the walls.
This way they reach the stables with relatively little trouble, where Marcus brings out their horses.
Dorian hands the girl over to his friend while he swings up into the saddle, then carefully takes Leonie back into his arms, arranging her limp body as comfortably as he can. He wraps her once more in the thick blanket he brought from the room so she won't be cold.
"Let's go," he orders at last, urging his horse into a trot, Marcus close at his heels.
Marcus lifts one hand and, eyes raised toward the sky, mutters something under his breath.
A moment later a violent gale whips through the city, and the night grows even darker in the streets, as if every open flame had been snuffed out and even the stars' light had vanished.
The soldiers scurry around like disturbed ants while the horses thunder between them, perceived as nothing more than a new surge of wind.
"Marcus!" Dorian shouts as they approach the shut gates.
The mentioned elf brings his raised hand down before him and cries out in the ancient tongue, his face tightening with the effort. The two massive gate leaves burst open with a deafening crash, and the soldiers scatter in all directions, shouting, fleeing the area in panic.
None of them notices the two riders as they gallop out onto the road, straight toward the forest.
For about half an hour they drive their horses forward in relentless, silent flight through the trees before Dorian slows to a walk. He looks down anxiously at the unmoving bundle of blankets in his arms. The wild ride has surely rattled every bone in the girl's body, but it was necessary to put as much distance between them and their enemies as possible, as fast as possible.
"She hasn't woken up?" Marcus asks, his face drawn and tired, as he brings his horse up beside him.
"No. But we have to keep going. I want at least a full day's ride between us and that cesspit. How much strength do you have left?" He glances at his friend, who looks more than a little worn.
No wonder—using this much magic on human soil would have knocked most elves flat.
But Marcus is one of the strongest warriors of their people, which is precisely why he sniffs in disdain at the question.
"Enough to break your nose if you bring it up again," he grumbles.
Dorian grins and scans the trees.
"Let's move."
He urges his horse back into a gallop.
They push their mounts for an entire day, stopping only a few times long enough to water the animals and make sure the girl wrapped in blankets is still alive. Both of them watch with growing worry as Leonie shows no sign of wanting to open her eyes. She spends the entire day limp and unconscious in Dorian's arms.
When evening finally falls again, they at last make camp.
Marcus starts a fire while Dorian lays the girl down beside it, then settles himself with his back against a tree.
"Shouldn't we try to wake her?" Marcus asks, a thread of concern in his voice. "We should find her a healer. She hardly has any color left."
Dorian has noticed it too—her face seems to have grown paler and paler throughout the day.
In his seven hundred years of life he has rarely felt truly helpless, and the storm raging inside his chest now feels impossible to calm.
At this point, only one thing could bring him peace: seeing those pale green eyes again.
"Hey, little one! Time to wake up!" He kneels down beside her. "Wake up."
He uncaps his flask, pours a bit of cold water into his palm, and wipes Leonie's face with it.
He repeats the motion again and again until her eyelashes finally flutter.
Behind him, Marcus lets out a great, shuddering sigh of relief, and Dorian too would have dropped to his knees if he weren't already in that position.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," he murmurs, wiping her face once more as she comes to.
Leonie finally regains consciousness and finds herself staring into Dorian's deep blue eyes.
For a moment she doesn't even recognize him. She blinks in confusion, trying to make sense of what is happening around her.
Who is this man, why is he here, where is "here," and what happened?
Countless questions take shape in her fogged, formless thoughts.
Her gaze flits over the tree canopy, then to the two men. Something faintly begins to surface… dinner, Esthelle, being shoved into Dorian's room, the moment he tore her dress—
She bolts upright in terror, trying to defend herself, and the motion detonates an entire universe of agony inside her body. Pain crashes through every inch of her, and the world goes dark again at the edges of her vision.
She rolls onto her side and begins to vomit.
"You shouldn't be bouncing around like that," Dorian observes, steadying her by the shoulders while Leonie retches again and again, though nothing more will come up.
"All right, little one, it'll pass in a moment."
He waits until the waves of nausea begin to subside, then eases her back down and brushes the strands of hair from her face once more.
"They gave you a thorough beating, so please don't move too much. I can help a bit, but only enough to stop you from doing something foolish. You know…"
He takes her hand and looks into her fear-glossed eyes.
"…when a living being feels no pain at all, it becomes far too easy to forget it still has limits."
Warm, gentle waves ripple through the throbbing mass that is Leonie's body, and slowly she starts to relax as the agony drains away in a matter of moments, leaving behind only a deep, dull ache. She looks uncertainly at the man kneeling beside her.
"How did… you do that?" she whispers, pulling her hand back.
"He's got some pretty neat tricks, doesn't he?" Marcus joins the light conversation as he, too, settles beside the fire.
"Tricks," Leonie repeats slowly, eyeing them both with suspicion.
Much more carefully this time, she tries to sit up again. She is determined to get as far away from her kidnappers as possible.
If it takes so little effort for Dorian to take her pain, what else might he be capable of?
According to the old tales, elves possessed immensely powerful magic that no mortal human could hope to stand against. So what could she possibly do?
"I'll help," Dorian says.
As if he hasn't heard her silent protests at all, he gently scoops her up and sits her with her back against the same tree he had been leaning on earlier. Then he takes a few steps backward and sinks to the ground at a respectful distance.
Seeing how frightened she is, he has enough decency to give her some space—if he doesn't, she'll likely try to run again, and that would only end in another fainting spell.
He jerks his chin at Marcus, signaling him to move back as well.
Marcus rolls his eyes, scooting a whole half a meter farther away.
"We're not going to eat you," he assures her. "I prefer meatier cuts."
Leonie's eyes go wide.
"Marcus," Dorian says in exasperation, shaking his head.
"We're not going to hurt you," he tells Leonie, but he can see the words alone won't be enough. Her wary gaze darts back and forth between them, as though she's trying to decide which of them is the greater threat.
"If… if you don't want anything from me… then why am I here?" she finally forces out, the most obvious question of all. The two men exchange a glance.
"We kidnapped you," Marcus says bluntly.
Fear floods back into Leonie's eyes.
"Marcus," Dorian groans, rubbing his eyes. "You have the tact of a headless chicken."
"What? It's the truth, isn't it?" Marcus spreads his arms. "We did kidnap her."
Out of the corner of his eye he sees the girl start to drag herself farther away. He sighs impatiently.
"Listen, little one. Those mongrels handed you over to us the way they'd hand over a horse from the stables, just so we could take you for a ride."
Leonie recoils as if slapped and squeezes her eyes shut in shame.
The truth is painful, but the stranger is right.
The baron did treat her that way.
But how will being with two strangers like this be any better than the castle?
At least she knew what to expect from the baron's cruelty. These two enormous, barbaric-looking men…
With them, she might not even live to see tomorrow.
And what if they sell her as a slave? She's heard rumors—elves aren't exactly opposed to the idea of owning slaves…
"And we decided to take you with us," Marcus goes on. "We didn't—"
Before he can finish, Dorian cuts in.
"It's a long road to our main camp. About five days on horseback, so you'll need your strength. You have to eat and drink."
He tosses her the waterskin and some food.
"You must," he adds in his usual commanding tone.
Leonie looks down at the unfamiliar food in her hand.
What if it's poisoned? Drugged?
Who knows what they might do to her…
"For the Mother's sake," Marcus explodes, when she's been staring suspiciously at the food for a full minute. He snatches it from her, bites off a piece, and tosses it back into her lap.
"See? It's just food," he says with his mouth full.
"Eat," Dorian repeats, and they both watch intently as Leonie finally brings a small bite to her mouth and chews.
When she swallows, Dorian's body relaxes and he leans back on his elbows with quiet satisfaction.
"Good. Now you need to answer a few questions," he continues.
No matter how exhausted she is, he needs answers. He has to know just how deep a mess they're in and what risks he's taking by bringing her home.
At first Leonie doesn't understand what the two men want from her. Then it dawns on her… her ears.
The blond one must have seen them yesterday when… when…
Her hand moves instinctively to her pointed ears, and the gesture does not escape Dorian's notice.
"Let's start with the simplest. What's your name?" His tone is hard, almost like an interrogation—because that's exactly what it is.
"Leonie… I don't know my family name. The baron never told me. He probably doesn't know either."
He'd said once that things happened too quickly to ask her mother. She leaves that part out now. She has no intention of sharing more than she must. She only wants to buy herself a little time—enough to think of some kind of escape plan.
Her pain has dulled, and maybe it will stay away long enough for her to reach the nearest village. There she can find a healer, and once she's a little better, she can run again.
The elves likely only see her as some passing amusement. Surely they won't chase her to the ends of the earth.
The baron, though… that's another story. He must be furious now. She'll have to hide from him for the rest of her life.
But she will. She will never go back. Never.
"When did you leave the elves' lands, and how?" Marcus asks.
Leonie stares at him in confusion.
"I never… I didn't even know such a place existed. I was born in the baron's castle. I've lived there for as long as I can remember. I… I've never been anywhere else."
Aside from her little escapes into the forest, but she doesn't consider those important enough to mention.
"That's impossible. That would mean your mother was already living among humans…" Marcus mutters.
"Who is your mother? And your father?" Dorian cuts in, tense.
Marcus would likely find it dishonorable to use their abilities on a girl in her condition, and Dorian agrees. But he can see just by looking at her that she isn't lying.
Even if she isn't telling them everything.
He can't blame her for that.
"I don't know."
"Were they elves?"
"I don't know."
"Friends of the baron?"
"I don't know."
"How did they end up in the human lands?"
"I don't know!" Leonie snaps, and pain spears through her the moment she raises her voice. She gasps, clutching at her ribs. How can these two slow-witted men not grasp that she truly knows nothing? She has so little knowledge of her own origins.
"All right," Dorian says more softly. "So you grew up among humans. Who raised you?"
"The baron… He… he's like a father to me. He gave me food and a roof over my head. He kept me safe…"
Marcus snorts loudly.
"Safe? Your broken bones agree with that?"
Leonie lowers her head sadly. True, the baron has always been hard on her and far from fair…
But… the world is cruel, and she learned long ago that everything has a price.
"That's enough," Dorian says quietly, shooting his friend a warning look.
Marcus never knows where the line is, and he has very clearly stomped all over Leonie's already fragile heart.
"My name is Dorian, and his is Marcus. As you already know, we're envoys of the elves' kingdom. Or at least we were… until yesterday," Dorian sighs. "Now we'll be lucky if we aren't exiled."
Marcus laughs.
"Oh, come on, my friend. We both know your father can only still be king because of your stubbornness."
Dorian nods. That much is true.
In fact, he was officially crowned king three hundred years ago—but he never took up the crown. Back then he had felt completely unfit to lead their people, and he'd decided it was better to pour his power and endless grief into battle instead.
He left ruling to his father, who moved with much greater ease among people.
"Regardless, we broke our oath, and my father will be furious when he learns of it."
He doesn't add that Leonie herself will hardly be welcomed either. Most elves consider anything touched by humans tainted. It will be hard to explain how an elf raised among humans could be an exception to that rule.
"But we still have time to think of an excuse. First we need to convince the others."
"Others?" Leonie whispers.
"Of course we didn't come alone. In a few days we'll reach our comrades' camp. Four of them are waiting for us in a safe place, in case we needed help," Marcus explains patiently.
"Will… will you let me go?" the girl breathes, whispering a prayer in her mind.
Dorian and Marcus exchange a long, flat look, before Dorian states firmly:
"No. We can't do that. Not yet."
Leonie's heart sinks into her stomach.
So that's it.
She is prey now.
Elf prey.
And escaping them seems utterly impossible.
Just a few days.
Will they kill her then?
Maybe, if she's lucky, they'll do it quickly…
Hopelessness washes over her again, heavier than ever, and a bone-deep weariness settles into her. All she wants is to curl up and cry herself to sleep.
Tears in her eyes, she turns her head away and scoots a little farther from the tree so she can lie down with her back to them.
She squeezes her eyes shut and no longer cares whether she'll even try to defend herself if Dorian decides to repeat what he did last night—whatever that actually was.
Despair and helplessness completely crush her.
As she expected, it doesn't take long before she hears soft footsteps approaching.
Every hair on her body stands on end.
She holds her breath and repeats to herself that she only wants it to be over quickly.
But a heartbeat later, the only thing she feels is the weight of a heavy, warm blanket being tucked over her—and nothing else.