Well, that’s more politeness than he’s ever shown me.
“If you mean that my blood is mixed with another kind, you’d be correct. My mother was kept captive for most of her life.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Where is she now?”
“Dead.”
“Oh… I—”
She waves me off with her large hand. “Don’t.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did both of you end up locked up down here?” I shouldn’t be so bold. They’re prisoners for a reason. I shouldn’t trust them. But something is telling me to keep talking to these people. Daegan and I share a glance, and I can tell that he doesn’t mind it either.
“Existing,” the female says.
“Existing,” the male says at nearly the same time.
They both look at each other and laugh. His, a deep, gravelly one, and hers, a deep, smooth one. Both are the kind of laugh you release when something is more sad than funny, but you don’t know how else to react.
“I don’t understand,” I say, looking at Daegan. His arms are crossed, and he doesn’t seem confused or surprised.
“The king doesn’t like anyone outside of his kind. You must know that…” he tells me.
I don’t answer him. I know the elvish royals historically aren’t good, but who’s to say the last few or even my father wanted this? Maybe he’s just as lost as the rest of us. Maybe he would break the curse for the good of the world if he only knew how. I think most of us have just accepted that this is the way the world is.
But I know that things aren’t as they should be, so maybe he should too. The curse has affected our land to its very core, poisoning it from the inside out. I’ve read countless old books, seen thousands of drawings and paintings of the world before. I know this isn’t natural, or right. And no one truly knows the potential it has to ruin everything. Magic often doesn’t make any sense, and there is much we still don’t understand about it.
I want to see the stars. I know they’re still up there. And there’s a part of me that hopes and wishes for her father to be on the right side of things.
I change the subject.
“How long have you both been down here?”
“A month,” they say in unison.
I look between the two of them. “Did you know each other before?”
“We were two travelers who found themselves on… similar journeys,” Gaethri says.
I glance at Daegan, who’s already looking at me. Is he thinking the same thing as me?
“Maethrel…” he says quietly, almost a whisper.
I lift my eyebrows along with my shoulders.
“The witch?” the Skeldaryn asks in a hushed tone.
“Yes… do you know him?”
She shakes her head, her red curls bouncing with even the smallest movement. “No. But I’ve heard the legends. He’s rather old. You spoke with him?”
“Yes. We sought his help for… a task,” I reply.
“And was he helpful?”
“Yeah,” Daegan grumbles. “As he should be.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask. “Because of who his grandmother is?”
