"Will someone explain to me what this is supposed to be?" Xav's harsh voice rang out as all the elves walked closer to the corpse. Disbelief and surprise were written on every face—except for Dorian's and Marcus's.
"I think you left out a few details from your story, Marcus," the brown-haired elf remarked, and the youngest-looking one burst out:
"Impossible! The girl did this?"
They all turned toward Leonie, but she had no idea what they were talking about—she hadn't done anything. On top of that, her head had started to pound. No doubt from the shock of what she had just lived through.
"We have to keep moving," Dorian said calmly, ignoring the others' stunned reactions, but no one moved.
"Are you deaf? Bring the horses. I have no intention of spending the night among corpses."
At that, everyone except Marcus and Leonie silently went about their business. Dorian walked over to the pair and crouched down beside the girl. He slid his fingers under her chin and gently raised her head to inspect the abrasions on her neck. His gaze flared with anger once more.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, studying her face. It took all of his self-control not to explode—and not to beat Marcus into the ground for letting this happen.
"And where were you?" he snapped at his friend, who let his lower lip droop in a guilty pout.
"Sorry. I didn't notice in time that that worm was heading for her," Marcus said, sliding an arm under Leonie's elbow to help her to her feet, then turning her to face him. She still looked completely dazed.
"Don't be angry with me, Leonie. I should've stepped in sooner."
Dorian was about to speak when another of their companions called out from behind him.
"Doesn't look to me like she can't defend herself," he said, pointing at the dead man standing beside them like some grotesque statue.
"You do realise you can't keep quiet forever," Xav added as he handed Dorian his horse's reins. Dorian swung into the saddle in one smooth motion and pulled Leonie up in front of him. She seemed to be in some kind of trance, staring blankly into space.
"We'll tell you everything we know when we get to the village," Dorian promised, then nudged his horse into a walk, leaving the gruesome battlefield behind. Moments later, all of them were trotting along in silence.
Dorian's thoughts circled endlessly around the limp girl in his arms. He had already suspected the truth about her from the moment he realised Leonie was one of them. She had used magic when she'd stopped them from following her in the forest—without the slightest idea what she was doing. Just as she had no idea now that she was the one who had killed that man.
"Say something," he murmured.
Leonie hadn't spoken a word since the fight, and it was starting to worry him. Ever since the battle, she felt as if a thick fog had settled over her mind, and her headache was growing worse with every passing minute.
"It just… my head is splitting," she managed after a while.
All she wanted was to lie down and sleep. She let her head fall against Dorian's chest, closed her eyes and surrendered her weight to him, letting the elf hold her steady in the saddle. Somewhere deep in her hazy mind she recognised this headache—she'd known it since childhood. It always came when she went too long without drinking her potion. Once, she had tried to wait it out, hoping it would pass on its own, but after a while unbearable cramps tore through her body and she hadn't lasted more than a few days. The only problem now was that there was no help for her here.
"You'll be able to rest soon," Dorian promised. His gaze met Marcus's frowning one. They both felt something was wrong with the girl. The soldier had grabbed her, yes, but the injury hadn't been serious at all. With elven blood in her veins, she shouldn't be feeling any pain left from it.
Unease pushed him to urge his horse to a faster pace, and no one questioned the sudden hurry. They had heard everything.
Barely half an hour later, the forest began to thin and a small, abandoned village emerged ahead of them. There were only eight or ten houses, all stone, with nature reclaiming them from every side. Judging by the state of the place, its inhabitants had left long ago. This was the base Dorian and his men had chosen when they arrived in the lands of men.
In front of the largest stone house, Dorian jumped down to help Leonie dismount—and just in time. She simply slid sideways and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.
"What's happening to her?" Xav asked as he dismounted with his usual effortless grace.
"I have no idea," Dorian replied honestly, and headed for the house with the unconscious girl in his arms, calling back over his shoulder as he went:
"Larion, I need your help."
The tall, long, dark-blond–haired man with the braid stepped forward and followed Dorian inside without a word. They walked into a larger front room with a rickety dining table in the middle, surrounded by all kinds of makeshift seating. Dorian turned right into a hallway with several doors; he kicked open the second one with his foot, and they entered a small room containing nothing but a sagging bed.
He laid Leonie down gently and brushed her hair away from her face.
"What do you think?" he asked impatiently, looking at his friend.
"Well, if you let me actually get close to her, I might be able to examine her," Larion replied calmly. He waited until Dorian took a step back, then sat down on the edge of the bed.
"And you can tell me what exactly I'm supposed to know," he went on, as if they were discussing the weather over afternoon tea. "From what I saw, you didn't look too surprised that she impaled a man."
"She's a forest elf," Dorian said.
Larion shook his head in disbelief.
"We both know the line of the forest elves died out a thousand years ago. No one's seen one since your grandfather took them with him. This girl is, what, twenty at most…"
"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 it's not the first time she's done it."
Larion carefully unwrapped the bandage around Leonie's broken wrist and let out a disapproving hum at the sight.
"Looks like this was badly damaged, and it's going to be rather unpleasant to put back, because it's set wrong," he muttered. He laid her arm down beside her and looked up at Dorian.
"Other than her hand, there's nothing physically wrong with her that would explain her passing out," he said slowly. "But I'm sure you can feel her magic. It's as if something flared up—it's wrapped around her very strongly."
At that moment, Leonie stirred, and both men immediately turned their attention to her.
"Good morning," the elf said, leaning over her and looking into her tired eyes.
"I'm Filarion, a friend of Dorian's. Can you tell me your name?" he asked gently, noting how her whole body tensed the moment she woke—only to relax again as soon as she saw Dorian.
"Leonie," she replied. She didn't even understand why that was a question.
"And do you remember what happened?"
Leonie tried to piece together how she had ended up here. Slowly, the memories returned: the elves, the fight, the dead man, the headache…
"My head… it was pounding," she whispered, touching her forehead and closing her eyes. Now only a dull ache remained.
"Have you ever felt anything like that before?" Dorian asked.
"Yes… when I didn't take the potion," she answered hesitantly.
Filarion's brows drew together.
"What potion?" he asked.
"I… don't really know what it is. I've been drinking it for as long as I can remember. The baron said it keeps the seizures away. And if I didn't drink it… it really was so bad I thought I was going to die."
Dorian raked a hand through his hair.
"How often did you take it?"
"Every day."
Dorian exchanged a grim look with his friend. If that was true, the girl had been sentenced to suffering and a slow death.
"All right," Filarion said after a brief silence. He gave Leonie a gentle smile. "We'll figure something out. But first I need to fix your hand, because you did even more damage to it when you punched Xav. I have to say, I haven't seen him that stunned and frozen in centuries—that alone was highly entertaining…"
He took her broken wrist between his large hands—her arm almost disappeared in his grip—and nodded to Dorian.
A pleasant warmth spread through Leonie's body. She relaxed bit by bit, and in her mind the images of that night by the lake began to surface—when she had sat between Dorian and Marcus on the shore. The first time she had felt truly safe. Now the same feelings rose inside her again.
At the same time, a loud crack sounded, but she felt none of it. Filarion murmured in the ancient elven tongue under his breath as he broke the badly set bones again and shifted them back into place so they could heal properly. After about a minute, he stopped muttering and began rebinding her arm.
In the meantime, Leonie's dreamlike vision dissolved, replaced by the sight of the worn little room. Reality flooded back into her mind in an instant. Her hand and head throbbed dully, and she realised she was still lying in bed. Filarion sat at the edge, watching her with interest, and behind him Dorian stood, his expression impossible to read.
"You… you did this?" she asked in astonishment, looking at her newly bound wrist.
Dorian gave the smallest of nods.
"Good. That settles that," Filarion said briskly before an argument could even start. "You can talk it out later."
He turned back to Leonie.
"Try to get some sleep, please. If you feel unwell, just call and we'll come. And if your head starts hurting again, you call then as well." His tone was gentle, but there was no mistaking the command. He tucked the blanket around her and rose from the bed.
He glanced at Dorian, who was visibly struggling with his emotions, and walked over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Let her rest. We need to talk," he said, then stepped out and closed the door behind him, leaving them alone.
Dorian moved back to the bed and sat down on the edge. To both their surprise, he gently took Leonie's good hand in his.
"You're going to be all right. We'll figure something out," he promised, even though he had no idea what they were dealing with yet. Maybe a faint suspicion or two—that was all.
"Why are you… being so nice now?" she asked quietly.
She didn't understand him. During their conversation, he had made it painfully clear he was repulsed by what had happened to her, and afterward he'd been furious with her. Now he was acting as if he actually cared. It just didn't add up.
"Kindness is my middle name," Dorian said with a faint smile.
Leonie only rolled her eyes, and he let out a sigh, shaking his head.
"I don't know, Leonie. I don't even know myself what I'm supposed to do with you," he admitted honestly. He straightened the blanket one last time, then stood up.
"For now, try to sleep," he said, and with a heavy heart, he left the room.