Edileth clenched her jaw, her lips pressed into a thin line. She shifted her weight. She longed to rise from her seated position. Yet she knew this would only cause her to pace. Instead, Edileth alternated between crossing her arms or fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve.

"Impatient to leave, cousin?" Joenek crouched at her side, revealing a grin.

She lifted a brow and looked away with a shake of her head. Edileth heard a shuffling sound. She felt Joenek sit close beside her.

"Have I offended you?" he asked.

Edileth took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She placed her hands on her knees and turned her face to Joenek. She drew close enough that her whispered words would not be heard by any of Jich's elves.

"We have hardly covered ground to-day, less than half our normal distance. Even the least experienced of Akkheron's rim could overtake us with little effort. There is yet plenty of light in the sky. We should still be trekking, instead of lazing about."

"Not all elves are as disciplined as you." Joenek stifled a laugh. He reached toward Edileth and placed his hand over one of hers; she stiffened. "Don't brood over things which might not come to pass. Even if Si-olians were to attack, they would have some of the finest warriors in Gael-Narenth to contend with. I've known Arun for many summers; you'd have no desire to be on the receiving end of his mace. And Celik seems skilled enough.

"But more than that, we have Torben. What could they possibly do against a hannorim?"

Joenek smiled.

I suppose that's meant to encourage me. She tried and failed to restrain another sigh.

Pulling her hand away from Joenek's touch, Edileth swept an errant lock from her face.

"You place too much value and dependence upon Torben's abilities as a hannorim. Have you any knowledge of what his limits are? With the little hannolle he has used, his skills could be all but useless in a battle."

Joenek's eyes widened, and he looked away from Edileth, as if in thought.

I suspected as much; you're far too impulsive. No sense for strategy, whatsoever.

When Joenek returned his gaze to her, he grinned. "Still, it has to count for something. He could do a simple illusion to trick the rim into thinking he had more power than he does."

"You have much to learn."

Edileth nearly laughed at the shift in Joenek's expression. His grin became a scowl, and he crossed his arms, grumbling something under his breath. Only allowing the corner of her mouth to rise a fraction, Edileth cleared her throat and continued the whispered conversation.

"You were quite sheltered in that little forest of yours. But your knowledge has grown exponentially. There is yet hope that your wits will improve."

Joenek's eyes narrowed. "What is the massive pitfall I have failed to consider, which evidently all other elves know?"

"One simple act of hannolle could cause a myriad of new problems. As we are currently travelling, no one would suspect us of bearing the Hibh en Gredhe. If Torben uses hannolle, those suspicions would be raised.

"Furthermore, there's a high probability that our refugees over there would turn on us – assuming we survived an attack."

"Why would they, if we just saved them from impending doom?"

"Those with unique abilities are not always viewed with fondness." Her reply was low, clipped. Joenek's brows twitched upward, but before he could comment, Celik stomped toward them.

"A word with your cousin, Aemic?"

Edileth was still amused by Celik's determination to appear like a common elf – he had moved with an awkward, thudding gate all day. With her attention focused on the Kenim Naduhl's booted feet, and a faint smile tugging at her lips, she hardly noticed that her mind had wandered beyond its own borders until she felt a rush of emotion crash over her. She flinched, effectively breaking the enchantment that seemed to consume her, and retreated into her own thoughts. Taking slow, deep breaths to calm her nerves, Edileth glanced toward Joenek. His facial expression had not changed. Yet she knew, beneath his amiable exterior, Joenek bristled at Celik's request. Were the situation different, Edileth could almost think that jealousy stirred within him.

"Enári?" Celik crouched beside her.

She shifted her focus and gave a small shake of her head. She concocted a quick excuse for her odd behaviour. "You startled me. I was reminded of the attack."

Joenek had yet to stand. Celik stared at him for a moment. Longing to dispel the tension, Edileth assumed a sorrowful expression and addressed Joenek.

"Might I speak with Benorelt alone. I'm in need of comfort."

"That is what family is for."

Joenek must have surprised himself, for his eyes widened and his face turned a piquant hue. He muttered an apology and shuffled to the other side of the circle, where Arun was having a boisterous conversation with Marrik and Rikku.

Now that she was alone with Celik, Edileth found she could not meet his gaze. She tried not to think of the burnt carcass that she had seen in Gallimna – knowing that it was Celik who had destroyed the evidence of her handiwork. Instead, she focused on the fact that she could hear the rustle of fabric as Celik sat next to her. Though she knew that he was trained for stealth, seeing him, hearing him, move like a common elf had opened her eyes to how silent he could be. The realization set her on edge, more than she already was.

Celik's silence did little to ease her anxiety. Clenching her jaw, Edileth turned her head in his direction. She had expected him to be studying her, his eyes boring into her soul. However, his gaze was fixed on a small, wooden box no longer than the palm of his hand. In the fading light, Edileth noted faint engravings along the edges of its lid. Celik brushed his thumb along these fine lines once or twice before closing his fingers around the box and placing it within the folds of his tunic. His gaze swept the horizon.

"Apologies."

Edileth had barely heard his voice. She tilted her head, staring at his face, willing him to look at her. A sharp, pinching pain gnawed at her stomach when at last he did. Celik opened his mouth, hesitated, and then continued.

"I was wrong."

Edileth lifted a brow. "I don't understand."

"To assume. I was wrong to assume. Should have trusted you."

Inhaling, Edileth thought of a response. Unable to think of a reply, she exhaled. Her hair had fallen into her face again and she swept it back. "You will need to provide a little more information if you want me to contribute to the conversation."

Celik's lips twitched, and he gave a slow nod.

"Not especially good at this sort of discussion. When you sought the creature, I thought you'd betrayed us."

"You thought–" Edileth was at a loss for words.

She stared at Celik for a long moment. At his confession, Edileth had felt equal tides of relief and distrust. The strong current still raged within her as she nodded her head. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust this roth whom the Ferlian Order had sent to aid her. But in the back of her mind, a subtle voice seemed to whisper words of caution. Was it not still possible that he bore villainous thoughts and performed traitorous acts? Could he not fabricate his suspicion of her to deflect her own misgivings about his loyalty?

"The Kenim Naduhl are respected, sometimes feared. We have special abilities, but few are Gifted. Still, some think us servants of Akkheron in disguise."

Edileth raised her eyes to look into his. She squinted as she studied his features. He was difficult to read; his face never seemed to reflect his thoughts. The temptation came to use her mind-speaking to learn what he was thinking. With a shudder, she dismissed the idea.

"Are you coercing me into pitying you? Do you think that because you have experienced a taste of distrust, I will swoon into your embrace? Because you think we share a commonality, I should forget about what you did to that creature, how you lurk in the shadows, how you once lived in Si-ol?"

Celik's stoic expression faded and in his features was a look of shock. He pulled away from Edileth, sitting a little straighter and glancing to the elves around them. Edileth bit back a word that likely would have received a similar reaction from Celik and checked their surroundings. No one seemed aware of the conversation that had transpired between them. Heart slowing to a normal pace, Edileth returned her gaze to Celik.

"I understand." His response was simple; always his words were brief, revealing little but fact. Edileth blinked and Celik continued. "Rest well, Enári."

He stood then, and slipped away with silent footfalls, his focus on something other than his false identity.

Edileth was still contemplating the odd interaction between them when she felt gooseflesh rise on her arms and legs. Alert, muscles coiling in preparation for action, she scanned her surroundings.

Not two meters away, a young elf stared at her from his squatting position in the long grasses. As their eyes met, the boy's head tilted, one brow rising. They sat immobile for several moments. At last, the boy looked away, and the presence that sent shivers trickling down her spine left from the edges of her mind.

It couldn't be...

Edileth dared not finish her thought. Instead, she prayed that nothing would penetrate the barriers of her mind and watched the boy slink through the grass until he settled near a few of Jich's elves.

The morning dawned, chilly and overcast. The dying grasses of the plains shifted in the strengthening breeze, blending, looking like rolling waves on a golden ocean. Edileth had only seen the ocean once. She had been young then – younger. It was but a faint memory on the periphery of her mind, yet she could almost smell the briny air. A sense of sorrow filled her. Something about the ocean had always made her heart ache, though she did not know why.

"Ah, so it's your turn."

Edileth glanced to Marrik who had stirred from a deep sleep. His voice was less accented than usual, causing his words to rumble like a long, slow roll of thunder. He was making great efforts to match his Narendhian to Celik's pronunciation.

An hour prior, the elves had packed camp and started travelling for the day. Marrik had slept so soundly, no doubt his body demanding the rest to heal itself, that he had not stirred when he was loaded onto the hannolled litter. Each of Edileth's companions had agreed to share the task of looking over Marrik.

"It is."

"I see it will be a quiet day. Not much for conversation, are you?"

Lifting a brow and pursing her lips, Edileth looked ahead. Marrik pressed further.

"Not pleased to look after the injured brother?"

Shoulders drooping with a sigh, Edileth imagined herself as a timid rothnak. She changed her expression, hoping it looked full of fear.

"I worry for our safety. It is difficult to think on anything but the danger behind us."

"If we perish, go we to Faedhmíl." Marrik's mouth dipped, presumably due to his slight grammatical error. However, he held Edileth with a piercing gaze. She clenched her jaw.

"Yes, yes; I know."

They settled into quiet for a time, as they waded through the grasslands. The breeze was becoming a stiff gust and Edileth clutched the cloak tighter about her. With a shiver, she moved closer to Marrik.

"Are you comfortable? Have you need of another blanket?"

Not waiting for a reply, Edileth tucked the blanket closer about Marrik's quivering body. She swung her pack off one shoulder and pulled it to the side. She retrieved her bedding, unfurled it with a couple flapping shakes, and spread it over Marrik. He lifted one dark brow, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Suddenly you care. I thought you hated me."

"Why would I?"

"Since I woke, you have avoided me."

Edileth blinked. Avoiding him? Have I been?

"The attack by that creature distressed me," she replied. "I am yet unsettled."

"Fair point. Though, as I recall, you never paid me much attention to begin with. At the Gathering, that is."

Edileth thought back to the few Gatherings she had attended. She remembered being introduced to Marrik. He had been kind enough, if not a little odd. Edileth did think that he had relished too much his audience's rapt focus on his words, titillating them with lofty terms and grand ideas. Most of it had surpassed her simple level of intellect, so – interesting though it may have been – she had not lingered to hear him boast of his genius.

"Unlike some, I feel no need to talk incessantly. If my silence is translated into hatred in your mind, then so be it."

Edileth flung the hood of the cloak over her head, closing the door of discussion with Marrik. She heard his deep, throaty laugh and crossed her arms. A gust of wind blew dust into her face. With another shiver, she pulled the hood farther down.

As her eyes scanned the elves ahead, her muscles tensed, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

The same boy she had seen on the previous night was staring at her from the bed of the wagon. He studied her with indigo eyes. His expression never changed. He watched with a scrutiny that seemed equal parts curious and knowing. They stared at one another for time uncountable, as though by some unspoken challenge. A low rumble of thunder ended the match, as Edileth glanced to the sky.

Thick, dark clouds were coming with swiftness from the West, laden with rain. A sullen sense of resignation filled Edileth. Before long, everyone would be drenched to the bone.

When she lowered her gaze back to the wagon, the boy had disappeared. Edileth shifted her gaze hither and thither in search of the fair-haired lad.

Author's note: This chapter has been updated (as of 2021-05-10)