We gave up on him,” he finishes mournfully, a sorrowful expression on his face which is mirrored by the master at my side. Their grief resonates with something inside me, and in a move completely out of character, I reach across the table and place my hand over Naril’s. I rarely instigate touch, and when I have, it’s only been with Vaeril and the others whom I feel pulled towards. Until now, the relationship between Naril and I has been a shallow and tentative friendship, but I’m beginning to learn more about the elf and it’s starting to change my opinion of him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Naril asks with a frown, turning his sharp eyes on me. “You didn’t give up on him. He was your enemy, yet you saw past that and helped him escape. You didn’t know you were part elf at that point, and I doubt he did either.” As he speaks, I can tell he’s confused, like he’s wondering what makes me different, allowing me to do what no one else could. “Did it feel like you were betraying them? The humans?” It’s a genuine question, and I don’t think he means it as an accusation, though it could be taken as one.
Yes, my internal thoughts answer immediately, and guilt rises inside me once again. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever escape, although I know deep down that I don’t really have anything to feel guilty for—it’s more complicated than that. I feel a lot of anger towards the king and his followers, which clouds my guilt and grief about leaving my friends and the innocents behind. Not that I’m going to tell Naril that. “They kept me as a slave my whole life and taught me only pain and fear,” I reply, not really answering the question, and from Naril’s raised eyebrow, he’s picked up on my evasion.
“What about the magician?” he counters. “Vaeril mentioned him,” he clarifies, seeing the confused look I give him.
Anger bubbles up inside me, and I have to look away from Naril’s smirking face before I leap across the table and punch him. Vaeril promised not to tell anyone else about my past, allowing me to choose whom I wanted to know about me. He would’ve known from when you arrived. He told the queen about you already, so Naril would have found out then anyway, my thoughts reason, and I have to concede my frustrations.
Looking up at Naril again, I realise he’s just trying to goad a reaction out of me to get more gossip. “Grayson saved me, I owe him my life.” I don’t know why I feel like I have to defend myself, or any relationship I have with Grayson, but something about his smug expression makes me defensive. “I don’t feel like I betrayed my race, but I am sorry that I never had the chance to say goodbye to the people who made a difference in the short time I was free.”
Naril’s face drops into a blank expression, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking, which is unusual for him. I’m used to his smirk, so to see him looking serious is unsettling. Have I said something wrong? If he doesn’t like my answers, he shouldn’t have antagonised me.
“I think you did what you needed to so you could survive in a terrible situation.” Master Ardeth’s voice in uncharacteristically somber, and as I turn to face him, I swear I see his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You’ve suffered much. If I had known about you…” He trails off as he looks away, his voice tight, and I get the impression he’s trying to compose himself. My heart squeezes painfully at the agony in his voice and at the thought that he would have rescued me from slavery. He barely knows me, but for my grandfather, he would have helped me.
“Thank you.” The words aren’t enough, and I hope he hears how much what he said means to me.
He’s still staring up at the large windows, the afternoon sun streaming in and leaving the library in a warm orange glow. Nodding his head, he takes a deep breath before turning back and giving me a polite smile.
“Now, how can I help you? I assume you came here for a particular reason?”
I’m sure my face shows my surprise at the sudden change in conversation, but before I can speak, Naril clears his throat, pulling the attention to him. “We came to speak to you