Walking down the elven road

Chapter 21

Arion

She truly looks like a corpse, he thinks. She's so pale. Even her short breaths are barely noticeable.

Melya hasn't opened her eyes for the last three days since healer Cressen keeps her in a drug-induced sleep in hope of her wound healing. It seems to be in vain.

The wound. A knife in the back. Luckily it missed both her spine and her heart, but her lungs took the hit. It's a miracle she's still alive. For now.

Kithan has left. The King literally had to drag him out. Nóranir and the maid have been taken into custody. They'll probably be hanged.

What will happen to himself? He doesn't know. He saw the treacherous elf lift his blade and stab the bride. Fortunately he managed to get there in time so Nóranir wouldn't be able to kill her.

Unfortunately, he caught the dagger in his left arm. He can't move his fingers anymore. It doesn't matter. It's not his sword arm anyway.

Melya. Such a fragile girl she is now, even more than when he first met her. He has become strangely fond of her. He never really liked people at all, but she, she really knew how to get to him. And now she's out of his reach.

Someone knocks on the door. Why do they knock? People are knocking on this door the entire day. They stare at Melya, sigh and leave with looks of pity or relief in their eyes. The knocking annoys him to no end. Can't they just invent some kind of system which just lets you know someone is there? Something like a bell, that might just work.

"Come on in," he says grumpily. Múralin enters. He hasn't been here before, even though it is his daughter who lies here like a dead body. Múralin has dropped his usual, emotionless mask. Now he just looks scared and very, very sad.

"How is she?" he asks softly.

"Not better than she looks." A long silence follows.

"She's my daughter, you know."

"So I've heard."

"The only child I have left."

"You had other children?"

"Yes. One, a son."

"What was his name, if I might ask?"

"Zaran."

"Excuse me?" Arion asks, shocked, "I think I misheard you."

"No you didn't. Zaran was my son," Múralin says. Arion looks into his eyes. He speaks the truth. Another silence follows. This one is short.

"I didn't expect that at all, to be honest."

"I've kept him a secret. I think his mother did the same."

"She did, whoever she is. I always thought he was the only son of this important aristocratic couple."

"It was the ideal situation. The couple was failing to have a child of their own and they were eager to raise one, even if it wasn't their own. They didn't want anyone to know about their failure in continuing the family line so they wouldn't tell anyone about Zaran's true heritage."

Arion nods slowly. His typical curiosity takes over. Who was Zaran's mother then?

"I know an elven healer," Múralin interrupts his thoughts, "he has come with us and he owes me a favor. I could ask him to treat her."

"I don't think anyone would object to that," Arion answers cautiously, "But won't he kill her? We've had enough of traitors. Two are enough."

"He won't dare to kill her," Múralin ensures him, "The debt he owes me is great enough for that."

"Go and get him. Please." Maybe he'll see her beautiful gray eyes again.

Melya

Everything hurts. No. Every breath hurts. Her lungs are paining her. That's surprising. She thought that in death one would be free of all pain and agony.

She opens her eyes. It feels like they are glued shut, but eventually they open. She sees Arion's face.

"Are you dead too?" she asks. Her voice is hoarse.

"No. And you aren't either," he answers. A small, hopeful smile is around his lips. He takes her meager hand into his. "I'm so glad about that."

"I'm still not sure whether I am. Everything hurts."

"The painkiller must have worn off then. The doctor said you couldn't have anymore because your heart could stop."

"What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Nothing, really."

"You were dancing with Lord Nóranir when one of Xoriah's maids attacked Zaran. He was mortally wounded. Nóranir stabbed you in the back. He missed your spine and heart but pierced your lungs. He tried to stab you again but I jumped in front of you."

She suddenly remembers a falsh, a shadow shielding her. Arion. He saved her life.

"Is the human healing knowledge so extensive they know how to treat a pierced lung? I thought it wasn't," she professionally diverts her line of thought.

"It isn't. A healer who came with Xoriah owed your father a great favor. He helped you, without him you would have died."

"Why would my father instruct someone to help me?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell you, so act surprised if he does."

"I can do that."

"Well then. You're not your father's only child."

"Not funny. My mother had a lot of miscarriages and stillbirths. She died whilst giving birth to my younger sister, who died a couple hours later."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that. I'm saying your father had a living son."

"What!? Wait... had?"

"Zaran."

"Still not funny."

"I agree. He told me two days ago."

"So he cheated on my mother. Bastard."

"Bastard," Arion agrees.