we never would have passed through the city undetected.
“I’m going back to my people.”
His words hit me like a physical blow, and I’m glad I’m sitting down because I fear I would have fallen otherwise. Why does this feel like a betrayal? We’d never made a plan as to what we would do once we escaped, and he never promised anything other than to help me get free. I suppose, deep down, neither of us thought it would work. A captured elf and an ex-slave, working together.
“Yeah, that makes sense, I mean, why wouldn’t you? They probably think you are dead, so they will be pleased to see you,” I babble, looking away and using my finger to draw patterns in the dirt on the stone floor. The weight of his eyes is heavy, and I know if I look up, I’ll see him frowning again.
“You could come with me.”
Surprise, fear, shock, and…excitement, flood my system. I’m flustered, and words escape me as I try and formulate a response. “Wha—” Shaking my head, I push up onto my knees and face him, looking for signs that he’s joking or doesn’t mean what he’s saying. His expression is completely serious and my heart flutters with excitement.
He wants me to go with him, he doesn’t want to leave me. His earlier outburst makes me slow to reply, after all, he just said he was going to get rid of me as soon as possible. Was that just his temper snapping, or did he truly mean it?
Did I expect him to disappear as soon as we escaped? Apparently no, given how upset I became when he told me he was returning to his people. Part of me, the part that feels pulled towards him, just wants to say yes, screw the consequences. Yet the rest of me is more cautious. I didn’t survive twelve years as a slave by coincidence and luck.
Taking a deep breath, I try to think of all the reasons going with him would be a bad idea. “A human wouldn’t be welcome among the elves,” I point out, gesturing between us, my frustration making the action jerky. “We’re enemies!”
Raising a single eyebrow, Vaeril continues to watch me, not moving from where he rests against the wall. “Are we? Can you tell me here and now that you hate me because I’m an elf?”
His question makes me pause. I don’t hate him, not at all. Thinking back to when I first met him, I realise I was scared of him, but I never hated him.
“No,” I reply slowly, and he nods, his eyes brightening. “But your fellow elves might not feel the same way.”
He leans forward from the wall, and I see a fire has been lit inside him, as if my answer confirmed something for him. “But we have a mutual enemy.”
“The king,” we declare in unison, our eyes meeting for a second before I avert them. I’ve not seen him like this before and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Besides, you are no normal human.” His voice takes on that excited edge again, like he’s figured out something I haven’t.
Frowning, I pull my cloak tighter around me like it could protect me from whatever he’s going to say next. “What do you mean?”
I hear him moving about, and next thing I know, he’s kneeling in front of me with an intense expression. “Come on, you can’t tell me that you haven’t noticed you’re different. You can detect magic, and you can break spells.” I start to back away slowly, not because I don’t want him close to me, but because I don’t want to hear what he’s saying. “You’re not a mage, I would sense it if you were, you are something else. Besides, not even magicians can break spells.” He doesn’t follow me, allowing me to put space between us, but he keeps speaking, not letting me escape his words. “You can’t tell me that you don’t feel the pull between us.”
There is it. He’s mentioned being drawn to me before, but this is the first time he’s directly mentioned the bond, the pull. I press my hand against my chest where that draw resides, and I see his eyes narrow on my movements.
“What is it?” I ask quietly, his eyes flashing in triumph as I confirm what he’s been saying.
“I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure, but I have an idea,” he tells me, and as I frown and open my mouth