Dusk was already settling by the time they tethered the horses again.
After a full day in the saddle, Leonie could barely move. As humiliating as it felt, she let Dorian hand her down to Marcus like a bundle of cloth. While the men tended to the horses and started a fire, Leonie tried to walk a little to loosen her stiff muscles, putting some distance between herself and the elves.
As soon as they were out of her line of sight, she let out a strained groan and leaned against a tree, lifting her shirt just enough to see the riot of colors staining her skin.
"May I take a look as well?"
Dorian's quiet voice came from behind her, and she jumped so violently it was as if a cannon had gone off. She stumbled, almost falling, but he was there in an instant, catching her by the elbow and steadying her before stepping back.
"I swear I only want to check your injuries," he said, his expression composed but taut. "Please. Let me."
They stared at one another for what felt like minutes. Finally Leonie gave a hesitant nod and raised her shirt to just below her breasts. She watched, holding her breath, as Dorian stepped closer and knelt before her. He lifted his hand, then paused, looking up for permission.
Leonie's instincts screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to nod again.
Dorian exhaled softly, almost in relief, and turned his attention to the damage. The moment he saw her, a dark, vicious urge surged through him. Bruises bloomed over nearly every inch of her fragile body—blue, green, sickly yellow.
He brushed his fingers gently along her ribs, probing with care. Just as he'd suspected, the bones were knitting faster than a human's should. The realization pleased him more than it should have.
Her soft skin beneath his rough fingers.
Her fear of him, and yet she allowed him this close…
If she weren't afraid, this could almost have been an intimate moment.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to pull her sweater back down. His hands lingered at her hips for a heartbeat, then he reached forward again.
"Let me see your wrist."
Leonie automatically offered him her broken hand. Her thoughts had short-circuited the moment he touched her; all that remained was raw awareness.
"I'm afraid it's started healing wrong," Dorian muttered, shaking his head as he unwound the filthy bandage and examined the oddly angled joint. He pressed carefully along the bone.
"In a few days we'll reach the others. We can set it properly there. You heal faster than humans do—you've noticed that, I assume."
Leonie nodded silently.
"But not as fast as we do," he went on thoughtfully as he wrapped her hand in a clean strip of cloth. "You're not like them. But compared to us, you're too human. Your eyes and ears are duller. You're not as fast, not as strong. I don't quite understand why. Maybe you had just one elven ancestor long ago, and after many generations the traits surfaced again…"
He tied off the bandage but didn't let go. Instead, he kept her hand between both of his, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the center of her palm.
He might not even have realized he was doing it.
Leonie very much did.
She stared at him, wide-eyed. He seemed to misread the look, because he continued:
"You don't have to be afraid. Once we're home, you'll have time to uncover the truth. You can live a quiet, peaceful life among the elves—if you choose to."
"If… I choose?" she asked softly.
Considering the fact that the previous day he had stated quite firmly that he would not let her go, she found that very hard to believe. And his hesitation did not help.
"I would like you to be able to choose freely," he said at last.
Would it be selfish to admit that he wanted her close?
He wanted to know her, to keep her safe, to… what, exactly?
He wanted everything, that was the problem. This strange girl had bewitched him in a way that made no sense at all, considering how little he knew about her.
"It's time for dinner," he said abruptly.
He released her hand and, just two heartbeats later, was already busying himself by the horses. Leonie watched him go, disappointment curling in her chest.
He is your captor, she reminded herself sharply.
Just because he has a handsome face and is suddenly pretending to care, that doesn't make him any less dangerous. Or less of a monster.
"Hey, there's a lake nearby if you want a bath before we eat," Marcus announced cheerfully, appearing out of nowhere with wet hair and, despite the chill, bare-chested.
The view was… not unimpressive. Marcus clearly knew it too, judging by the smug little smile tugging at his lips while Leonie flushed and glanced away.
"If you'd like, I can come back with you," he added with a teasing wink.
Leonie shook her head so fast it was a wonder it didn't fall off.
Of course, Marcus didn't recognize the concept of "too soon."
"Maybe don't scare her any more than she already is," Dorian called from the fire, deadpan. "She's been through enough. She doesn't need to see how tiny you are on top of it."
Marcus snorted, then burst out laughing as he dropped down by the flames.
"Anee didn't seem to think so," he shot back. "If I remember correctly, she wanted to spend the next night with me too—not you."
Dorian waved a dismissive hand, but his gaze slid to Leonie's startled face.
"Don't worry," he added dryly, for her benefit. "Anee enjoyed herself thoroughly."
"That's the point," Marcus chimed in. "We don't need to drag women to our beds by force. Dorian can barely keep them off him as it is." He jerked his chin in his friend's direction.
"Marcus," Dorian warned, shaking his head. "That's not an appropriate topic."
"I think it is," Marcus countered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied first Leonie, then Dorian. In her he saw wariness; in his friend, clear annoyance.
"If we're going to be stuck together like one big happy family for a while, we may as well clear up the important things. Like what actually happened the night we took you."
"Marcus," Dorian said again, more quietly this time.
But he didn't sound as resolute as before.
Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible if she knew the truth. If she stopped watching them like a trapped animal, waiting for a chance to bolt. But the more she trusted them, the stronger the bond would become—and bonds were hard to cut. It was far easier to keep his distance if she feared him.
"Don't 'Marcus' me," his friend retorted. "Just because you enjoy suffering doesn't mean everyone else has to. Leonie shouldn't have to live in constant fear. Especially not around us."
Leonie looked between them, confused, her heart rate spiking.
She had no idea what exactly they were about to unravel—
but she knew it was about her.