It’s been hours since the Commander left you here at the river’s edge.
The rhythmic bubbling sounds of the water slosh softly against stones in the dusk.
But hours ago, you were both nearly taken by the deceitful thing.
Closing your eyes, you sigh heavily.
You draw lazy little circles in the sand repeatedly, and wonder how long they’ll remain before the river washes them away.
You gaze up at the stars and the Three Sisters.
Maybe everyone back home has already finished dinner.
Maybe they’re curled beneath those same scratchy blankets sharing secrets from the day.
You remember how Vani always whispered, “Can you hear me?” after everyone else had fallen asleep.
But it all feels so far away now.
As if it were a different time…
and perhaps even a different person.
You run a hand along your chest and arm. Your clothes are not nearly dry, but almost there.
Whatever relief you felt in your chest after…
You swallow the tightness in your throat.
…after you were rescued.
You close your eyes and sigh.
Your body is heavy and your eyes can barely stay open. And with great regret and an odd memory, your thoughts wander to your poison tooth.
It’s confusing thinking of it now.
You shake your head. The Commander took that from you as well, of course.
He’s taken it all.
“We’ve no more food,” you say helplessly to the trees. Their branches only sway gently in the wind.
Your stomach responds with a grumble.
“No more,” you add with a groan. You reach for an old, gangly tree root jutting out from the sandy bank, holding onto it.
If only your friends back home could see you now.
Do they even miss you? Do they still think of you?
Or have they already forgotten…
You shake your head.
No.
They all think you’re dead.
A casualty of war.
If they only knew…
You lift your head, the area is empty. You don’t know where he sulked off to.
Perhaps he’s left you here for good to die in peace.
Alone.
Well good riddance.
Maybe it’s as it should be.
You roll onto your back, your cold shackles clanking and rubbing against your skin as you adjust position, reminding you of your reality.
You watch the Sisters above you until your lids are so heavy that you fall asleep under the canopy of darkness and starlight.
Later, the crackle of a fire and the chilled air call you out of your unsettling dreams of being chased again in the forest.
A horse’s high-pitched whinny cuts through your haze.
Your eyes snap open.
A light sheen of sweat coats your forehead.
You don’t remember ever dreaming like this back home.
A voice murmurs something low and melodic.
You angle your ear toward the sound.
It’s not for you, of course.
It’s to… to a horse?
You jerk up and raise your head, watching with caution beyond the rounded sand bank. Through the darkness, behind rising embers of the fire…
It’s him.
He retrieved both horses.
Something in your chest tightens then releases.
How?
You both must have been swept down the river for what felt like several remars or more. How he even managed that feat, you’ve no clue.
Perhaps you never will.
The horses seem relaxed on their tethers. Calm and like nothing ever even happened. Blissfully unaware.
As if neither of you almost died. And the Commander himself seems fully recovered from the river incident.
He…
He saved you.
You chew on your bottom lip.
No.
You’d rather not think about it and shove it all away.
Everything you know is gone.
Because of him.
He stole it from you.
But…
Why did he risk himself?
Perhaps he…
You clench your fists together.
No. No.
Then, you narrow your eyes, exhaling a laugh.
Why didn’t you see it before?
He wants his accolades from the Capital.
Of course.
You sit up, brushing the sand off your arms and legs.
But… why does it still bother you?
You shake your head.
It doesn’t matter.
Never.
You get up, stomping into camp.
“We’ve no food now,” you say.
“If you had only given me a crumb of bread, we wouldn’t be here.”
You don’t care.
Because he’s wrong too.
You’re starving.
And it’s entirely his fault.
All of this.
“Elves!” You roll your eyes at him as he focuses intently on the fire.
He stops tending it, and the horses seem to stop as well, witnessing you.
They chew lazily on grass.
The forest goes quiet and the air is tight and thick.
“Elves?” he adds softly.
You can feel the weight of his gaze on your skin.
“Yes. Elves. That’s what you are.” You spit out the words. He has some strange magic in him. But what?
“You’ve known many then?” he asks quietly.
You pause at the question, but dare not answer.
He begins brushing your mare.
The silence that follows is long and only accompanied by the sound of night insects chirping.
You shift on your feet, studying his hands.
They glide over the mare in gentle strokes along her neck.
The tiniest, warm flutter in the center of your chest reminds you where you are.
You don’t know when you started holding your breath.
He sighs. “Why do you hate elves?” he asks softly, his back still to you.
You don’t like this.
And especially the way he’s asking.
You scoff aloud.
“Apart from you withholding food, shackling me and taking me prisoner?” you say in disbelief at him.
Does he not see himself?
His eyes cut to yours.
Your heartbeat stutters.
But he inclines his head, inviting you to continue.
After considering it, you take a deep breath.
“Elves murdered my family,” you say.
His gaze is steady on your face.
“You remember this?” His voice changes and suddenly you can’t tear your eyes away from him.
You swallow the tight lump in your throat.
Unease spreads through you.
You think it over and consider lying to him. But something tells you not to, and you decide against it. You’re too angry and don’t care anymore. “No,” you finally admit. “But I was told they did and tried selling me after.”
“Luckily my people caught wind of the scheme and returned me.”
His eyes remain on yours.
“You were sold by elves?” he asks.
Something in his voice makes your blood heat.
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe? That’s what elves do.”
He goes quiet, but his silence angers you even more.
“They tried to sell me,” you repeat.
He holds your gaze, but he doesn’t respond.
“They… they did,” you insist.
He doesn’t fit what you were taught. He saved your life in the river when he could have let you drown.
And he should have let you go.
You would have, if your positions were reversed.
That’s just how it is.
“Elves haven’t lived on Sherinde nor Aandaris for three thousand and twenty years,” he says.
You open your mouth, then shut it fast. The ground suddenly feels unsteady underneath your feet.
What?
No.
“Lies,” you say.
That’s… that’s not right.
You try pulling from your memory of Aandaris and Sherinden war history, when it first began, but you come up blank and foggy.
History was never your strongest subject.
But he’s still wrong.
And the number is too big to hold. Too big to be a mistake. Too exact. What is going on?
He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
It doesn’t match with what you’ve been told.
And he doesn’t match.
So, why would Aandaris tell you that?
Aandaris always provides. You recite the chant that you’ve been taught since you were a child.
“You’re here. How do you explain that?” you ask. But your heartbeat stutters.
He doesn’t answer.
He stalks toward you, stopping just short of you.
“Someone has lied to you,” he rasps.
You stifle a gasp.
You back away but are soon pressed against a tree. You angle your head back.
His eyes search yours.
“You’re the liar,” you whisper, but your voice shakes.
You raise your chin. “Lie again.”
His eyes flare as he stares down at you.
“If I meant you harm… you would know it,” he says.
You square your shoulders.
“You don’t value your own life,” he says softly.
“And that makes you dangerous.”
Your chest rises and falls rapidly.
“Careful there, Commander,” you say. “You almost sound like someone who cares.”
Something changes in his eyes. But then it’s gone.
You scoff. “Aandaris should have ended you back at your fallen fort. I should have when I had the chance,” you say.
You are a soldier, meant to destroy Sherinde.
It’s who you are.
“They sent the wrong one,” he says.
You raise your chin, suddenly bristling at his tone.
Wrong one?
You know where this is going. He’s insulting your skills as a fighter and soldier.
He’s calling you small.
Helpless.
Useless.
Weak.
You clench your fists hard at your sides.
That has been his opinion of you all this time.
The very opposite of what you ever want to be.
What you were trained to be.
A soldier and fighter of Aandaris.
And soldiers of Aandaris don’t cry.
The fleeting thought comes in a voice that doesn’t belong to you.
Flat, practiced and too perfect.
And then it vanishes in a blink.
He closes in on you.
Your skin prickles.
“They made a mistake in sending you,” he continues.
Your pulse scatters.
“And why is that?” you say between your teeth.
“Because they’re never getting you back,” he says, soft and steady against your cheek.
His gaze pins you in place.
Your body betrays you.
Heat unfurls in your center, low and traitorous.
“I’ll see to it myself,” he says, pulling away.
But the words strike you like lightning.
You lunge yourself at him, aiming for the blade he has sheathed on his belt.
Your fingers barely brush the tip of the hilt.
But he’s much too fast.
Gods, why is he so fast?
The world shifts beneath your soft leather boots.
You lose balance, tumbling forward. You both fall to the ground, and you land directly on top of him.
Hard enough to punch the air out of both your lungs.
And suddenly you’re straddling his hips.
Wait.
How did you get here?
His warm hands close around your waist—and for one fractured heartbeat, he holds you there.
The blade at his waist is inches from your hand.
His grip tightens—just once, but then goes deathly still.
