“Uncle Ellich will come. Aunt Jera, too. They’ll keep watch over you until I return. If you will let them.”
Her mother seemed to draw farther into herself, pulling up her legs and tucking in her arms, becoming a dark, shapeless ball on the couch. “I will miss you, child,” she said softly.
The depth of feeling in her words caught Arling by surprise. They emerged sudden and unexpected from amid the anger and sadness, bright and welcome.
“I will miss you, too,” she replied quickly. “I will think of you every day until I return.”
She got to her feet and went to her mother, enfolding her in her arms in a gentle hug. But her mother was rigid and unresponsive, and Arling held her only for a moment before releasing her again and stepping away.
“I have to go now,” she said, desperately wishing she could avoid the need for doing so. It was more than her reluctance to be the bearer of the Ellcrys seed, more even than her fear of what might be required of her once the seed was quickened. Her mother was so alone and needed her so badly; what would she do if Arling failed to return? What would become of her?
“What is you go to do?” her mother asked suddenly, still huddled on the couch. “What is so important that you would leave me like this?”
Arling almost told her. Why shouldn’t she know? Why shouldn’t she be made aware of what her daughter faced? Why shouldn’t she think well of her for making a sacrifice that would possibly save them all?
“I can’t tell you that, Mother,” she said finally, backing away from her impulse to say more. “I am sworn to secrecy by the order.”
“Yes,” her mother said after a long silence. “Like your sister.”
Arling felt stung. “This isn’t—”
“Go!” Afrengill Elessedil shouted, springing up suddenly from the couch and advancing on her. “Get out of my house! Lies! You tell me lies! Go join your sister and become what she is! That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
Arling shrank from her mother’s fury, tried to say something to defend herself and failed. She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t make herself respond. Instead she turned and fled from the home and her mother, back through the door and into the night. She ran blindly down the pathway until Aphen stepped out of the shadows and caught her up, wrapped her arms around her and held her close.
“Shhh, shhh,” her sister whispered. “It’s all right. I have you.”
Arling nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I know.”
But it wasn’t all right and might never be again. Even her sister’s comforting presence couldn’t change that.
On the other side of the darkened house, tucked up under the eaves and close by the window through which it had been listening to Arlingfant and her mother converse, the creature that served Edinja Orle watched as the sisters moved down the walkway and out of sight. Then it dropped to the ground. Long and lean and feral, it flexed its limbs, relieved to be back in its natural state. Or at least the state to which it had been rendered during one of Edinja’s ongoing experiments. It had been an Elf once but had fallen under the power of the Federation witch and now served as her eyes and ears within the Elven home city, believed by all to be the one whose identity it had assumed.
But it wasn’t that person, of course. That person was long since dead and buried with no one the wiser.