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Page Nine

“You’re lucky I am merciful,” Kris told Ophelia, who had just finished trying on her brand-new robes, onyx and blue—just like his.

Ophelia slipped into her boots. “What do you mean by that?” she asked him. The maids walked in and deposited a warm cape made of fur across her back.

“Never mind.” Kris waved her off and headed for the still open door. “Finished serving your three days of picking up crops for the hungry, and then we’ll talk.”

She attempted to bid him farewell; yet, with the old maids nearby now, it was the sound of nothing that left her lips.

Not a minute later in marched Elian with a coat of his own, made up of expensive leathers, all brown and thick enough to last him through the winter. His wooden bow stuck out from behind his back like a single wing; it fascinated Ophelia. She wondered when, and how, and why, he had learned to use it.

Apparently, Elian got the gist of this, for he soon asked her, “Has it caught your interest?”

She nodded.

The maids shuffled out of the room with the discretion of worker bees who still had much left to do in their day.

“Oh,” Elian paused. He stared at Ophelia as if it were the first time he was looking at her. “So you can understand me,” he said.

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She nodded again.

He put a finger to his chin and added, “But you can’t talk.”

Another nod.

“I see…”

Elian bit his lip. He sighed and glanced downward at the stone floor of her new bedroom. “Listen…” His eyes met with hers again. The green of his gaze reminded her of the forest; the contrast between him and his brother was something that baffled Ophelia to the highest degree. “I know we’re not supposed to help you, but…” He scratched the back of his head. “From what I gather, you are quite new to our customs, so… I’ll come check up on you from time to time. If that’s fine with you, o-of course—”

Ophelia took his hands in hers. She squeezed them once and looked up to him with a smile.

He returned her grin. “I see,” Elian echoed. “That’s good to know then.” With a fist to his lips, he cleared his throat. “I must get going now,” he said. “I’m sure one of the guards will arrive to accompany you any minute now.” As he headed for the door, he stopped in his tracks. His back was still turned to Ophelia when he spoke again. “I’m sorry about father’s behaviour,” he told her. “He’s sick, and he hasn’t been himself lately. I don’t think you deserve your punishment, but none of us want to go against his orders at the risk of being beheaded. I hope you’ll find it in yourself to forgive us.”

And then, he was gone.

Ophelia could not understand why he had decided to be kind with her. Earlier this morning, she had heard a crowd outside her window spreading rumours that the castle had now adopted a spirit of nature. Some seemed fearful, others delighted. Could he be one of these people who believe me to be something more than I am? she wondered as she thought back to Elian and his words. And what if that were me after all? How would I know, since I have forgotten?

The guard knocked on her door.

Ophelia was led out to a carriage, whose destination was a place far from the castle she had barely gotten the time to know.