Elven Legacy

Chapter 81

Jaden

He knew it was only a dream.

The scent of herbal soap lingered on his skin and hair. The soft clothes he wore felt just as clean, same as the linen sheet and wool blanket covering him up to his shoulders.

Through the window to his left, above his bed, a clear night sky full of stars sparkled around a waxing crescent moon.

The curtain was drawn back, its thin edges tickled by a sea-scented breeze, wafting in through wide open glass panes. Jaden shivered, and yet this was a pleasant shiver. Relief coursed through him as he discovered why it felt so perfect – the pain was gone.

Jaden was further convinced he must be dreaming. He'd had many others similar to this, ever fleeting, only to wake up in the chains again, wrists screaming in agony, the fiery stings of fresh burns vying for his attention.

So he braced himself for the waking up.

It didn't happen.

A sliver of hope filtered into his mind. His thoughts raced, he tried to make sense . . . but he couldn't remember anything. Nothing at all, at least not after the torture.

He tried to sit up.

It wasn't easy, his body felt sore, his muscles lazy and half-asleep, yet there was no pain. Which should've been impossible.

He managed to sit, sheet and blanket furled in his lap, legs folding slowly. He cast a timid glance around, ever worried that this would prove to be some sort of illusion.

The room was small, with another empty cot set against the opposite, windowless wall. It was big enough, however, to include a small wooden desk, behind which Zemisha sat. He could see the side of her golden-skinned face, outlined in candlelight. She was scribbling across parchment; writing a letter, perhaps.

His chest filled with joyful flutters at seeing her safe. He wished to call out her name, and yet he hesitated. Afraid he might break the spell.

The next thing he noticed was the nightstand to his right, it held a platter with glass of water and hearty bowl of soup, which caused his stomach to groan. A rather shy noise at first, then his stomach growled obnoxiously, as if a beast just now awoken.

Zemisha startled and turned, and Jaden laughed—

Then he coughed, his throat sore from thirst.

"Sorry," he croaked, reaching for the glass of water.

Zemisha's face broke into a warm grin as she set down her quill. She brought her wooden chair to the bed so she could sit beside him. She was in a simple dress, wide open from shoulder to shoulder, russet in color as it wound down and stopped at her knees, the hem slightly frayed.

She sat and crossed her legs, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

After a few sips of water – he wished to drink faster but his throat wouldn't allow it without, he suspected, sending him into more coughing fits – he felt suddenly tired from just this small simple act, and rested the glass in his lap.

He cleared his throat again, testing his voice, "I feel like . . ." Cleared his throat once more, lightly now. His voice sounded lower and hoarser than usual, but otherwise it seemed fine. "Feels like a dream," he admitted. "What happened?"

Abruptly, he realized something, as he brushed his hair back from his face.

His nails.