Written: 8/14/24
Word Count: 1,288

Resinee pointed one threatening finger at the trio of obstacles who had blocked my path. A fearless lioness, she glared at them. "This is a sacred Burning ceremony. Outsiders are not welcome."

As Rocco splashed through the water, the Wood Elf hollered, "Don't give it to the Dark Elves! Don't, Lady Swanmere! They don't deserve it; they didn't do anything to earn her favor. And besides," he gave a careless shrug that whirled the mottled clouds on his skin like an army of scurrying rodents, "what would they even use Dragon's Breath for?"

"They do have everything they need." The Dryad crossed his arms, nodding along like they were discussing a seating arrangement for elvants in primary school. "A miracle cure like that could go a long way in the Capital. Why waste it here, in a tiny village?"

All I could do was stare through my tears. See? Here it was again. I'm the one who doesn't understand. I'm the one who's in the wrong.

"I didn't expect their hatred for you to be so obvious," I said, though I didn't know who I said it to. The words felt false as they scraped free of my tear-clogged throat as if I did expect Capital folk to be blatantly prejudiced. "Why did you even let them in your village?"

Rocco dropped me. I puddled in a mess of limbs and wet clothes on the ground. Here, there was less sediment worn away into sand. We sat on an overhang, staring up at a veiled figure lying peacefully on the sunbleached rocks. As soon as I saw it, I quickly looked away.

The giant sat beside me, though not before Emery clambored in between us, squeezing in at the last moment so that it rested half its weight on my thigh. It stared dolefully at the Dark Elf, who was now face-to-face with it, no longer towering over the little messenger from up high.

Resinee sat down on my other side, tugging at my drenched hair tied at the top of my head. "I'll help you take this out later," she promised.

I would really rather cut it all off than try to unearth that band from the tangles and snarls the stupid pool created.

"They spend money on food and lodgings," Rocco answered, quite reasonably. Just a reasonable boulder explaining the business politics of serving prejudiced elves and nymphs as we sat on a rocky outcrop under a broiling sun awaiting the torch bearer to arrive and burn my aunt's body to wispy ashes.

Goddess, things just could not get any better.

"Have you never thought you were the weird one for not looking down on us?" Rocco's rumble rumbled right ahead, and on my quest to avoid looking at the body covered under that sheet, I had no choice but to meet his eyes.

I still remembered that temptation to obey him, when he'd given me the command to move. I didn't like it. I'd gotten beaten in the past, but it didn't make me act like some obedient servant for them. So what set this muscle-elve apart? And why was he acting so yewing normal, like he hadn't put me in these waterlogged casts in the first place?

"I was always the lowest in their eyes. How could I look down? Nothing was below me," I glanced away, gaze snared again and again by that sheet, that outline lying prone on the rocks.

Gradually, I felt more and more Dark Elves take their seats, all of us adults sitting on the ground like we were in primary school again. The waves of heat compacted each body, bolstered by the brightness of the sun.

Had the three troublemakers left? I didn't want to look. I couldn't stand seeing Denny's ugly smirk again. Tears were still rolling down my cheeks, and it was hard enough to talk through them. I didn't want any more, no thanks.

I'm done with my extra serving of public humiliation today. Gotta save some for tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that...

"Who were they, Beckett?" Emery asked, pushing at the boulder until it was able to sandwich its skinny frame between us. I was grateful to stay away from those arms that had stomped me into the ground just a few days earlier.

Was I the only one feeling awkward? Was I weird for not wanting to see him, let alone talk to him? Was this just normal here?

My fear was...yes.

"I don't know about the Wood Elf or the Dryad, but the High Elf is one of my brother's old Pickleven teammates. A—frenemy. Maybe," I shrugged, clearing my throat past the foam choking me. It didn't work, and I kept trying. It was useless, however, because it wouldn't clear. "There were talks of a marriage between us. That was—what I had been born for. But when I arrived, and, you know, am the way I am—that was...put off the table. And then, like, seven years ago, Denny asked my brother, of all people, if I could be his second or third wife. Take me off my family's hands."

Resinee inhaled sharply beside me. "I forgot the control their Royal Majesties extended to predestination. You always say such shocking things."

Right back at you.

"But you didn't marry him," Emery concluded, a thoughtful pout buffeting its lower lip. "Why?"

My voice strained harder, but I pushed it out. Goddess, pardon my unsavory couth, but talking calmly through a thick, tear-stricken throat was harder than using the outhouse with a cast on. Especially if I had to shit. I thought I was gonna pass out just the other day, my leg gone limp during the turmoil. The strain of holding oneself steady over a blazing pit in the ground, an underwater sewer stream spitting unfortunate sploshes up from the hole...

Goddess, that was much easier, but could you still send some divine guidance down to the Haspa Mines and waylay an indoor plumbing specialist from the Capital into this remote region?

"Niall said no."

Emery raised a brow at that, which made me wonder, once again, how much this child knew about my life, my family, my past. Why did it always feel like it knew everything?

"Ina," a small, pudgy Dark Elf with no shirt sat on his knees in front of us. Wispy hairs haloed his scalp, making the hair loss something of a crown. Unfortunately, the hair loss did not extend to his nose. Had nobody told him of the icicles he grew there? "We're about to get started. Is this her?"

Resinee's vibrant, confident smile took over, and I felt her dainty hands wrap around my bicep. I wasn't a large elva by any means, but come on. How was I supposed to compete with that? "Yes," she said, squeezing my arm. "This is Beckett, Lady Rosetta's niece. She's come to...help."

"Very good, very good." Bowing twice, the Dark Elf sat up straight, rubbing his hands together. "Let's put the Missus to rest. Proper rest." A serious slant covered the elf's wrinkled features; it didn't look natural on him. "You just trust us. We'll rest her down, easy."

A surprised sob got caught in my throat, pushed away by stifling my mouth with both hands. I felt those sitting on either side of me stare, their gazes burning holes into my temples. Resinee's hands retreated. They were so small, barely covering the same surface area of a thick bracelet or cuff, yet now that she released me, I felt chilled. The sun pounded down on us, not letting up even for an instant. How could I feel cold? Was I having another sensory nightmare?