Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Twenty-Seven: Ailill

Ailill

“I thought I would find you here.”

He turned his head, enjoying the mild winter’s day, watching as Kú discovered how to fly. The skies were clear, and the pale sun was shining, not warm enough to melt the snow, but nice enough to brave being outside. Spring was on its way.

The priestess let the curtain drop behind her, and walked forward. “Are you alright?”

He lifted a shoulder slightly, looking back over the frozen river. He didn’t answer, too busy watching the small nightbird as she clumsily flapped her way back to him, landing on the railing. He let her climb up his arm, not caring that the priestess could see her.

“That’s a …”

He inclined his head a little. “A nightbird,” he finished. “Yes. She is.”

“She looks different.”

“She’s a baby, too young to have hatched in winter. And she’s white.” He glanced over at her. “Had I not found her, she wouldn’t have survived the night.”

“Oh.” The woman was silent for a while, but he could see her mind working. At last, she spoke again.

“You never did like the temple,” she murmured, resting her forearms on the railing. “Trapped and surrounded by stone.”

He stayed silent, listening to her.

“You were always out here. No matter what the weather was.” She looked at him. “Why won’t you talk to me, Panthera? What have I done?”

He shook his head slightly, looking at her. “Listen to yourself,” he told her.

She sighed, her gaze dropping. “Aura’s grown since she’s been with you.”

“She needs the open air.”

“You think I don’t know that! You think I can’t see the dullness in her eyes? I know she feels suffocated here, Panthera.”

He met her gaze evenly. “So why not let her find her own space?”

“Because there was nowhere safe!” she snapped. “Nowhere I could send her so that she wouldn’t be hurt.”

He lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“I thought you were dead, Panthera. I was on my own with her. I couldn’t bear for her to get hurt. She can’t speak!”

“I know.”

“She hates it here. She got that from you.”

There was a crash behind them, and he turned around completely. The girl in question was standing there, the remains of a tray of food scattered across the ground at her feet. She’d had to have heard them.

The priestess made a sound of distress, and took a step forward, only for Aura to take a step back. Her brown eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.

“Will you join us, Aura?” he asked quietly, letting her choose. He wasn’t going to push her.

She looked between them both, and slowly came forward. He could see the questions in her eyes, but he let her mother explain.

“I didn’t tell you because I thought he was dead, honey,” the priestess said softly. “There was no point.”

The girl shook her head. You lied.

With an almost silent sigh, Ailill leant against the railing, watching without saying a word. It wasn’t his place to speak. Absently, he stroked Kú’s soft head, the nightbird watching everything with bright black eyes.

“Aura, I …” The priestess stopped, clearly at a loss for words. “Aura,” she said gently.

The girl shook her head, turning. She looked like she was going to run out of the room, but Ailill spoke, stopping her in her tracks.

“Stjärna, come here.”

The girl paused, looking back over her shoulder. He moved into the room, crouching in front of her.

“Stjärna,” he said again, more gently this time. “Will you let your mother explain to you? She wants to tell you.”

Aura blinked, her breath coming quickly, but he didn’t press her. It was a shock, one that he knew was hard to understand.

At last, she nodded, tentatively, and sat on one of the chairs. He rose, and tugged the priestess to another chair, making her sit.

“Sit down, priestess. You need to explain this. To both of us.”

She took a deep breath, playing with the fabric of her dress. Hunaja was still curled at the doorway to the terrace, not quite asleep, but instead watching them

Patiently waiting, Ailill leaned against the doorframe, and the young beastkin shifted her head to rest it heavily on the elf’s foot.

“I don’t know where to start,” she finally murmured, looking up. For once, she looked as vulnerable and as young as her daughter, fear clear in her eyes. Ailill tilted his head, shrugging a shoulder at the same time.

“The beginning?” he suggested. She smiled, amused.

“I suppose that would be a good idea,” she agreed quietly, and turned to her daughter. “You remember what I told you of the last elf? The burning?”