Lenora placed the intricately twisted pieces of pastry in the basket, on top of everything else, and covered it with a linen cloth. Snatching the long hooded cloak off the hook near the kitchen door, she nearly giggled in happy anticipation. She had spent all morning and afternoon learning to bake telliri; the third batch seemed to come out quite good, and she couldn’t wait to see what kind of a face the Prisoner would make when he saw her creation.
She rushed to the main tower, keeping her head low, pulling the hood down to conceal her face. No one except her father knew that the mysterious young woman who brought meals to Prisoner 34 was the warden’s daughter, and no one needed to. Lenora smiled as she entered the tower and began to climb the steep stairs. Her fear of the Prisoner had disappeared in an instant—on that special day after the whipping, when she’d learned what he had done for her mother. She’d never forget it. She ran to him as soon as she was allowed, and once the cell door had closed behind her, she dashed to the Prisoner and threw her arms around him. He stiffened, shocked.
“What are you doing, silly human child?” he had muttered.
“Call me silly and foolish, I don’t care,” Lenora had replied, blinking away tears. “You’ve healed my mother. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He had neither confirmed nor denied it. Awkwardly pulling her away, he’d taken a step aside.
“If you knew half the things I have done, or am capable of, you would think twice before touching me.”
“I don’t care,” she’d repeated. “I apologize for being so bold, I’m sure I have violated some elven custom, but I don’t regret it.”
Their friendship had begun that day. It looked rather one-sided; the Prisoner was reluctant to accept her attentions and offered none in return, except for his usual courteous manner. Lenora understood why: his tormented heart feared to form an attachment of any kind, especially if she reminded him of his lost daughter. And she also knew that, despite himself, he cared.
Alvacor. That was the elf’s name. It had taken a while for him to reveal it, and she hadn’t yet ventured to call him so, but she felt honored to know it. No one else did.
The guards removed the huge iron bar and opened the heavy door to his cell. Lenora stepped inside.
“Good afternoon, sir. I hear you’ve been playing theater again, changing clothes and all.”
“Cells this time, too,” he replied. “There was no time to remove the carpets and furniture.”
He was standing at the window, tall and imposing in his dark-green elven garments. Lenora’s father had gone at great lengths to obtain good quality, well-fitting clothes for him. The Prisoner had never asked for them, but he had accepted the warden’s gifts and wore them regularly. This green outfit seemed to be his favorite.
“How did it go?” Lenora asked, walking up to the desk where she always served the food. “Was Sir Fredric convinced?”
The elf shrugged. “He saw what he expected to see: a prisoner in a cell, perhaps a bit cleaner than most.”
“I bet he was civil and courteous, nothing like his brother.”
“He was. He is a fine man.”
Gelleran, the raven, flew off his perch on the back of the armchair and landed on the desk, his shiny eyes focused on Lenora’s hands as she began taking out the food. She left the platter with telliri covered, so that the Prisoner wouldn’t see the surprise yet.
“May I ask what Sir Fredric wanted?” Lenora probed. She knew it could very likely be something he wouldn’t want to discuss.
But he did answer her. “Malgrid got drunk and blurted out some comment that made Fredric question his victory over me. Which reminds me…” The Prisoner took a step toward his armchair, picked up a folded piece of paper, and handed it to the girl. “I have written a short letter to Malgrid. Would you please ask your father to send it to him?”
The letter was not sealed, and before Lenora could stop herself, curiosity got the best of her. “May I read it?”
The Prisoner regarded her with a mildly amused expression. “A most inappropriate request, yet fully expected. Go ahead. That’s why it’s not sealed.”
She grinned and unfolded the paper.
I was under the impression that you did not want our little secret to become public knowledge. I suggest that you watch your drunken mouth, or perhaps quit drinking altogether. You have inconvenienced me. I better not have any more visitors because of you. Otherwise, I’ll have to come over for another midnight chat.
Your displeased friend,
the Dark Elf of Syron
Lenora’s hand flew up to her mouth as she finished reading. “You went to his house?”
“Since you already know that I snuck out that night, I find no reason to keep it secret from you, but don’t tell your father.”
She still couldn’t believe it. “I knew you did something, but I’d never think… No wonder Malgrid had come back looking like all ghosts of Menara were haunting him! Father said he’d even sent a favorable report to the king. What did you do to him?”
“Nothing. Malgrid and I had a brief conversation of a philosophical nature, he said he was sorry and promised to be good. What’s on that platter?” the Prisoner asked, clearly closing the subject. “Why are you not uncovering it?”
“Oh, that one…” Lenora grinned again, her happy anticipation returning. “Well, I’ve got something special there. Now, please don’t laugh. I’m probably going to mispronounce it, and it’s probably not going to taste right, but I’ve found some elven recipes and baked telliri for you!”
She jerked the cloth off the platter.
He stared at it so long that it made her worried.
“What? Do they look horrible?”
“No, no. They look perfect. It’s just… do you have any idea how long it has been since I’ve had these?”
Lenora smiled, relieved. “A hundred years?”
“Almost.”
She was taken a little aback as she realized he was serious. Lenora knew that elves lived very long lives without aging, some even said they were immortal, but she knew it from books. She had never met elves before. It was only natural for her to trust her eyes and, since he looked no older than twenty five, think of him as of a young man. But that was exactly the problem: he was no man, and his appearance was deceiving.
“How old are you, Alvacor?” she asked, watching him pick up a telliri and pause before tasting it.
His eyes darted to hers at the sound of his name.
“I hope it’s all right for me to call you so,” the girl hurried to add. “If not, I apologize.”
“No need to apologize, it is perfectly fine. I just need to get used to hearing my name again. Just like with telliri, it has been a while. As to my age, I am not very old, for an elf: only two hundred and forty three.”
Lenora chuckled, trying to hide her astonishment. “Indeed, not that old…”
He took a small bite of the pastry. “This is very good. You say you’ve never made them before?”
She beamed at the compliment. “Tried for the first time this morning! I’m so glad you like it. I will try cooking senegari next, how about that?”
The Prisoner turned to her, his face serious, eyes dark and hard.
“Why do you do this, Lenora? You don’t have to waste your time and efforts on me.”
“I am not wasting anything,” she replied. “I’m happy to do it. Don’t you understand? You took away my pain. While I can’t hope to do the same for you, I can at least try to bring some joy into your life.”
He didn’t respond right away, turning the pastry in his slender hands. Then he said simply, “Thank you.”
“I wish I could do more. Wish I could bring you back to life.”
“A strange thing to say to an immortal creature.”
“You know what I mean. You told me yourself that you didn’t want to go on living. I know why you fought Fredric. You can’t kill yourself, so you hoped he would, didn’t you? And when you saw that he couldn’t, you had surrendered, because you didn’t care. Didn’t care what happened to you.”
The Prisoner listened, not looking at the girl. His eyes started turning red, but these changes no longer frightened her.
“Are you sure you’re only sixteen?” he asked when she finished.
She gave a sad smile. “Why? Do I sound a couple hundred years older?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well.” Lenora gathered her courage; she felt it was time to say something she’d wanted to say to him for a while. “Whether you like it or not, I’m not going to leave you alone. I don’t want you to bury yourself here, thinking of another way to end your life that wouldn’t be quite a suicide. It’s just… wrong. And you’re stronger than that.”
She braced herself for his reaction, half-expecting an angry outburst. But it didn’t happen.
“You think?” he calmly asked.
“I am certain.”
“Very well. Once again, I will take your word for it.”
“Once again?”
“Yes. I have already done it before.”
***
Lenora walked out of the tower and headed to the prison gate, Alvacor’s words still echoing in her mind. Did he mean it? Was he truly going to try to start living again, to unlock his heart? Was it possible that her modest efforts had somehow contributed to it? It would be presumptuous of her to think so, yet she couldn’t deny that he had changed since their first meeting. He had started caring, enough to even heal her mother and save her father from being reported to the king. Later, he had suggested that Lenora stopped coming, despite admitting that he liked the visits, because he now cared for her reputation.
“You know what people will think and say if they learn you’ve been coming to me,” he had said.
She wouldn’t have it, of course, although her father shared the concern. But her father did not know why his wife was walking again, getting stronger each day. He praised Arian the Creator for the sudden turnaround. Lenora thanked him as well, but she knew who had served as Arian’s instrument in bringing the healing.
Alvacor refused to tell what other thing he had taken her word for. That was something that intrigued her as well. I’ll get it out of him some time, she thought, smiling. He wants me to. Why would he mention it if—
A rough hand grabbed her wrist and jerked her into a dark niche. Startled, Lenora nearly lost her footing, but even as she stumbled, she held tight onto the hood of her cloak with the other hand, determined to keep it on.
“Come ‘ere, little birdie. I’ve wanted to make your acquaintance for quite a while.”
It was a guard. She caught a glimpse of his grinning face and realized it was the one she’d been watching out for. While all guards were curious about her and many tried to peek under the hood, they kept a respectful distance. This one always stared at her in a way that made her uncomfortable, as if he was plotting something.
“Let me go!” Lenora shouted, changing her voice, still hoping not to be recognized. “I’ll tell Captain Torren!”
She fought to break free, but he held her wrist in a firm grip.
“No, you won’t. ‘Cause if you do, I’ll tell him you wanted to make a little coin on the side and offered me your services. Whom do you think he’s going to believe, me or a whore?”
“He’s going to believe me, and you will answer for calling me a whore, too!”
“Oh, so you’re a fine honest woman, huh?” the guard mocked. “Let me see for myself!”
Laughing, he pulled her farther into the niche. Lenora let go of the hood and used the free hand to grab the basket she was still clutching in the other one. She smacked the man with it as hard as she could, spilling the contents. The empty milk jar hit the stones of the yard and broke. The guard cursed, jerked off the hood and raised his hand to slap her. His hand stopped in midair, eyes widened.
“Release the young lady this minute!” she heard someone’s firm order, followed by the sound of the sword being drawn.
The guard already did; his fingers had unclenched the moment he recognized her. Lenora turned and felt her cheeks grow warm as she saw Sir Fredric. She thought he was long since gone. She wanted to pull the hood back on, but it was too late for that. While they were not close acquaintances, Fredric knew Lenora well enough to recognize her, which he instantly did.
Both men were staring at her with a similar shocked expression.
“Miss Lenora?” The knight took a step closer. “What are you doing here, alone?”
She tried to compose herself the best she could. “I was visiting a prisoner, bringing him some homemade food. It’s something I do regularly.” She tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “This is, however, the first time I’ve had any trouble with the guards. Thank you for interfering, Sir Fredric.”
The guard turned pale under her glare.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Lenora,” he muttered. “I had no idea it was you.”
He rushed to pick up the scattered plates, silverware, and pieces of the broken jar. Having clumsily stuffed it all in the basket, he handed it back to her.
“Explain yourself, soldier,” Fredric demanded, sheathing his blade.
“I am terribly sorry,” the guard said. “I didn’t know it was Miss Lenora, I couldn’t possibly have imagined it. We guards saw this young woman bring food to Prisoner 34, and we was all curious. We—”
“Prisoner 34?” the knight interrupted. “The elf?”
Lenora wanted to whack the stupid guard again. As if humiliating her wasn’t enough, now he had to point out which prisoner, inevitably catching Fredric’s attention. Arian knew what that could lead to.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier confirmed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lenora saw Fredric give her an astonished glance. She ignored it.
“We never saw her face,” the guard went on, “she always had the hood up. We thought she was just a… well, you know, one of those girls.”
“No matter who you thought she was, your behavior has no excuse,” Fredric said, frowning.
“Yes, sir. It was wrong of me.”
“What’s your name, soldier?” the knight asked.
“Crolton, sir. Please, don’t report me. Captain Torren will have my head for this.”
The request seemed to make Fredric nearly as indignant as the act itself.
“Rightly so!” he exclaimed. “How could you even think that an incident like this can go unreported?”
“I will speak to my father,” Lenora said. She needed to make sure the guard wouldn’t talk. “I’ll ask him to refrain from punishing you, as long as you keep your mouth shut. I don’t want people to know that I come here. Don’t tell anyone; not one soul. If rumors start circulating about me visiting the tower, I will know who is responsible, and then you will answer for it.”
“I will not breathe a word, I swear.”
“Good.”
“Allow me to escort you home, Miss Lenora,” the knight said, offering his arm.
She feared his questions, but she did not want to offend him by refusing.
“Thank you, Sir Fredric.”
Lenora pulled the hood up, and they walked out of the prison gate.
If it wasn’t for the embarrassing circumstances, she would have enjoyed walking with Fredric, side by side, leaning on his strong arm. She probably would have even been thrilled. He was one of the finest men she’d ever met, handsome and gallant. If there was anyone who deserved to be knighted, it was him. This disgraceful encounter, though, had ruined everything. Lenora didn’t know whether she would ever be able to look him in the eye. She could just about imagine what he thought of her now.
“You do not owe me any explanations, Miss Lenora,” Fredric began, “but if you don’t mind me asking a question… Why do you visit this prisoner?”
Well, at least this one was easy.
“Out of compassion,” she replied. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was a good part of it.
“Of course, I understand that. But how do you find the strength to make this compassion overcome… everything else? He is dangerous, probably the most dangerous of all prisoners here. I am sure measures are taken, guards watch the visits and all, but still. In all honesty, I can’t imagine how your father allows it.”
“Very reluctantly.” Lenora smiled, choosing not to reveal that no guards ever entered the cell with her. “There is a reason for it, one I am not at liberty to share, but I can tell you that he was as much against it as any good father would be.”
She hoped Fredric wouldn’t try to pry out more, and he did not.
“Are you not afraid of the elf?” he asked after a pause.
“I was at first, but not anymore.”
“Why?”
“Well… I have gotten to know him a little. He will not harm me.”
Fredric frowned. “I hope you do not believe you have befriended him. I’ve just learned that he can give the impression of a civilized, even refined man; I can see how it would be possible for someone to think him one. But if that is what’s happening, if he is trying to earn your trust and make you believe him good and innocent, he is deceiving you, Miss Lenora.”
She did not know what to say. He meant well, but he didn’t know Alvacor’s story, and she couldn’t reveal it to him.
“Please do not think that I’m speaking out of spite,” Fredric said, slowing down his pace, turning to look her in the eye. “I have fought him, yes, but I don’t hate him blindly. I wouldn’t have given you this warning if I didn’t think there were grounds for it.”
“Oh, no, I’d never suspect you of speaking out of spite,” Lenora assured him. “Someone else, possibly, but not you. It’s not that I don’t believe you, I know he can be dangerous. But he’s not trying to make me think he is innocent. Quite the contrary; he calls himself a monster.”
“Hmm. Well, I am glad I was wrong about that, but I would still advise caution. Who knows what he has in mind? After all, he is a creature of the Darkness.”
He is not, Lenora thought. She didn’t say it aloud, of course. The words would be impossible to explain without revealing too much.
“Thank you, Sir Fredric. Perhaps you would help me gain a better understanding of it all by telling me what the elf has done? I know he is considered the enemy of the Crown, but I don’t know why.”
He seemed surprised. “Has your father not told you?”
“No. He doesn’t like speaking of it.”
The knight thought for a moment. “Risking his displeasure, I will tell you, because I do think it will help you understand the danger. He killed two squads of the king’s soldiers. Over thirty men.”
Lenora managed to keep her reaction in check, but she was stunned. She knew that nobody ended up in the Dormigan without a good reason, and she thought it was possible that Alvacor had shed blood, probably because someone provoked him, but over thirty?
“Under what circumstances?” she asked.
“I don’t know all the details. The first squad had somehow come across him in the wastelands of Syron. Ten soldiers. He’d left only one alive, sending him back with a message to stay away from what he claimed as his land. The king, of course, couldn’t stand for that. He sent a squad of twenty, plus two spell-breakers, since the surviving man from the first squad had said the elf was using magic. He killed them all.”
Once again, Lenora was at a loss for words.
“Are you shocked to hear this?” Fredric asked.
“Yes, I admit I am. Is the king going to execute him?”
“I am not privy to His Majesty’s plans, but at least for now, it appears that he wants to keep him alive. Before going to Syron, I was instructed to do my best to capture the elf, not kill him.” The knight paused, as if weighing something before he said it. “Which brings me to another question I hope you will kindly answer, Miss Lenora. You have spoken to the elf several times, and you say you have gotten to know him, somewhat. Do you think it possible that he wanted to be captured, for some reason?”
They were not far from the house; soon Lenora would be able to escape, she just needed to sidestep it long enough.
She feigned surprise. “Why? Didn’t he fight before he surrendered?”
“He did, and he fought well. He did not use any magic against me, though. He says it’s because I was protected. I wear a chain necklace filled with the power of the Light. It makes sense, but I am still not certain I can believe him.”
“He never told me anything about wanting to be captured,” Lenora replied, and it was true. “If that was the case, why didn’t he surrender to the first or second squad?”
“I have thought of that,” Fredric nodded. “Perhaps they had not given him such an option. They’d fought to kill. Or perhaps there are more players to this game, as I’ve been suspecting, and it was arranged on purpose to be done by my hand.”
Lenora looked up at him; this time, her surprise was genuine. “Who would do that, and why?”
He sighed. “I wish I knew.”
They entered the yard. The knight stopped and bowed.
“Forgive me for burdening you with my concerns, Miss Lenora. Do not mind them. This is a noble thing that you do for the elf. If the guard breaks his promise and some ugly rumor starts, I will fight to defend your honor.”
Lenora stared at him for a good minute; the words made her head sway.
“…Thank you,” she muttered, remembering herself. “I truly appreciate it. Will you dine with us, Sir Fredric? You must have a good meal before you head back to Teresta. My mother and brother would be so happy to see you.”
“Thank you, but I must decline. I need to return to the prison and see Captain Torren, as he has asked me to take his report back to the governor. He has also invited me to share a meal with him in the tower, so I will not go hungry, don’t worry.”
***