A Touch of Death

Chapter 8

Twenty-two. She was twenty-two years old.

How was that possible? How had time passed so quickly that Elina's granddaughter was now grown?

The Enchanter walked down the castle hallways, lanterns lighting on their own as he passed, wondering how long he had lived that time slipped by so quickly. Of course, it wasn't as though he'd asked her age whenever he found her in the forest. She was feverish, exhausted, and too far gone to be able to tell him even if she wanted to. It was just... she seemed so young that day. She was still so young, compared to him.

He thought she was a Fae scout that day in the woods, so many years before.

It was part of why he'd picked the highest tower as his workplace— he wanted to be able to see them coming if they ever tried to attack. The blast he sent would have barely scratched a full Fae, but it had torn the skin of her arm to ribbons and managed to slash at her face and head in the process.

That face looked just like Elina. Aoife was the spitting image of her— the Enchanter had no idea how they were related, but there had to be shared blood somewhere, because the resemblance was uncanny. And then, on top of everything, she was wearing Elina's pendant. It was old and worn, but undoubtedly hers. It bore the constellation on one side and the Fae rune for her name on the other, though he didn't think that Aoife knew what that meant.

She couldn't stand at the time, probably partly thanks to his attack, but she screamed when he tried to help her. The echo of it still rang through his mind on dark nights— "Don't touch me!"

Never in his life had he heard something quite so bone-chillingly full of fear. Now he understood why.

Not every time, but any time.

She was, apparently, completely harmless while unconscious, as he felt absolutely nothing when he picked up her fallen body. Then again, it could have been that, surrounded by dead things as she was, her magic had turned in on its reserves in order to keep her alive, shutting her off instead of reaching out to the world.

He needed more information before he could come to a firm conclusion. Normally, he might not have bothered since he didn't know her intent or reason for being in these woods, but the sight of her battered body wracked him with guilt. He would not have another person's life on his hands. Not like that.

On top of that, the Enchanter owed Elina a debt that he never had a chance to pay. A life for a life. Debts and favors were serious things in the Fae world, and as she never reclaimed her favor, it now passed to the rest of her kin by blood rights.

It was only after he brought Aoife inside that he saw the Mark hiding under her shredded skin. Though he was sure that this was the same girl, he wanted to make absolutely certain, so he asked to see her Mark in the carriage... and found the evidence he'd wanted. No doubt the slashing scar pattern continued down the rest of her arm. He remembered cleaning it and wrapping it in bandages himself, cursing the fact that so few Fae were gifted with healing abilities. The best he could do for her was make a potion to restore her energy and speed along her body's natural healing process, heightened by her magic but still annoyingly slow in her injured and exhausted state.

The Enchanter took a left at the end of the hallway and continued up the staircase instead of going down, making his way up to the higher floors and down the back hallways that led to his tower workshop. He couldn't fathom how the very girl that might break the Queen's curse had stumbled into his path twice, but he was grateful for it.

A part of him shrank with regret for locking away her memories, but it would have been dangerous for her to have a connection with him. She would have been a vulnerable target for the Fae forces, and they would use anything they could to their advantage.

Well, he thought as he opened the workshop door, she's definitely going to be a target now. However, after that display in the gardens, she would have been a target in any case. At least now he had the chance to make sure that she wasn't vulnerable when the time came.

The Enchanter shook his head as if to clear it and went back to the bottles of potions and piles of notes on the table. It would probably take her an hour or so to clean up and make her way downstairs. In that time, he had a few experiments to conduct.