it’s much closer this time. The guards’ shouts travel through the closed doors and fear rises up inside me. Has the fighting reached us? The sounds get closer and I spin to face the entrance where the commotion is coming from.
The doors suddenly fly open as if a great gust of wind has forced them apart. Out of the gloom of the darker entryway, Grayson storms towards us with three other people dressed in the same clothing as him. It’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. I watch as he punches Vaeril and knocks the curved blade out of the elf’s hand. I see his cloak billowing behind him as his face twists in anger. Grayson’s arm flies out as his face twists, shouting something in a language I don’t recognise, as the feeling of magic makes the air thick around us.
All of a sudden, time seems to speed up, and I hear a choking noise behind me. Spinning, I see Vaeril frozen in place with a look of hatred on his face as he snarls at the magicians, and it’s then I realise what’s happened. Grayson seems like he’s trying to control his anger as the three other magicians come to stand with him, their expressions ranging from concern to fury. They aren’t just any magicians. Their dark blue uniforms and golden lined cloaks mark them for who they are—high magicians. Grayson brought the high magicians to rescue me.
Mother above. Is this what She told me to wait for? It sure makes things more complicated.
Vaeril makes another choking noise, and I know I have to stop this before it gets out of hand. Grayson thought the elf was trying to hurt me, but he wasn’t, and I need to explain that.
“Stop,” I demand as I rush forward, Grayson’s arms immediately wrapping around me as I reach him. I can hear Vaeril gasp for air as he leans against the workbench. The feeling of comfort and home fills me as I inhale Grayson’s scent. I hadn’t realised how much I missed him. He’s only been away a couple of days, but it suddenly hits me as I’m wrapped in his arms. I’ve never felt this before... missing someone… or being missed by someone.
“Clarissa, you’re okay,” he whispers, as he presses his face into my hair, seeming to calm with each deep breath he takes. A part of me feels complete here in his arms, and that scares me, but right now, I don’t care. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
A hissing noise fills my ears, like that of a cat being cornered, and I pull away from Grayson’s embrace to see the other three high magicians facing off against Vaeril, their hands raised and glowing with magic. The feel of that magic is so strong it’s hard to breathe, but the cold dread lining my stomach makes me move.
“Stop,” I shout, but my voice comes out in a croak. When I turn back to Grayson, he’s frowning down at me. His hand is still resting on my shoulder, like he can’t bear to break contact, and as I look up at him, I place my hand against his chest, my fingers forming into a fist and gripping his clothes. “Please, stop them. He wasn’t trying to hurt me.” I’m not quite sure why I sound so breathless and desperate. I don’t care for the elf, but that little part inside me, that pull we feel between us, is screaming that if I let him die, I will never be the same again.
“He’s the enemy, Clarissa, he never should have been here in the first place.” There is a slight growl in his voice, and I can hear his hate for Vaeril. His eyes seem to sharpen, and for a moment I think he’s going to go into euisa, the killing trance, but he shakes his head, his eyes running over my face. “He was always going to die. Seeing him with that blade raised against you…” His body seems to shudder as I pull away from him.
“No.” I refuse to let them kill him, and right now, I’m standing between him and the elf. I hope Grayson will come to understand, but the blind hatred in his expression as he lifts his gaze to the elf tells me all I need to know at the moment.
Turning, I see the other high magicians have formed a semi-circle facing Vaeril, and although they don’t seem to be doing anything, I