12 Chapter XI, Never Alone

I lay awake, a thousand thoughts filling my head.

It was my seventh night in Thelnilin. One week in an elvish fantasy. In this time, everything had been configured only to become more confusing. I had learned that my father was alive, and a complete arse, my friend is a prince, I'm a princess, my other friends are a raven-whisperer, a shapeshifter, a werewolf thing, a secretly paranoid knife lady, and a mentally damaged, sassy orphan.

Seems legit, right?

Oh, I also have pointed ears. Forgot to mention that.

"You know the stories, the ones about great heroes like Baldor the bold, the twins of Peredoc, Antörím the grim, Dean the derpy-" Valora stopped short at a sharp blow in the side from Arna. "What was that for?!" Valora exclaimed indignantly, rubbing her arm where the shifter had elbowed her.

"She doesn't know these people!" Arna hissed, holding up her hand so I couldn't see her mouth. A futile effort given that I now had the elven hearing abilities.

I scowled. I actually did know these guys, for I had been spending countless hours in the library; searching for anything on the first age of elves. It had turned out that Aenhrys really didn't want me back, for he had given me zero books on the first age.

Valora looked at me apologetically and mouthed 'Sorry.'

Arna frowned. "You can do better than that, Val."

Valora stepped forward, rolling her eyes. "Please, your majesty." she pleaded sarcastically, falling to her knees. "Forgive me of my crimes."

I grinned, and acted the part. "You are forgiven, sniveling peasant."

Alphyn and Leonora fought to contain a laugh. Even Arna and Quinlin failed to hide for once genuine smiles. Roan snorted softly and continued sharpening his knife.

Valora stood up and bowed. "Yes, your majesty, your royal highness, your majestic regal royalness."

We all howled with laughter.

Roan rolled his eyes. "Let's keep moving. Food awaits."

"So guys," Valora popped a grape in her mouth. "What do you call a pig in a desert wearing a witches' hat?"

Alphyn jumped at the answer. "A ham sandwich!"

Valora popped another grape into her mouth and pointed finger guns at her boyfriend.

I snorted into my soup as Arna caught my eye and grinned. Leonora rudely imitated my snort, holding her finger to her nose like a pig snout.

We all roared with laughter at that.

I glanced around the table, my eyes falling on Arna's smile; the way her pointed teeth glinted in the candlelight.

Wait. Pointed teeth?!

Quinlin seemed to have noticed my bewildered expression, "You clearly have something to say, Alexandra. So please, do us all a favor and spit it out."

I had not forgotten the disrespect from earlier that week, so out of pure spite and loathing for the cadre leader, I took a small sip of water and spit it out at his feet before turning to Arna.

"What's with your…teeth…?" I trailed off, still a bit terrified of the abominations in the shifter's mouth.

"Oh, this?" She shifted between the teeth of a human and those of a canine. "It helps when eating meat." She said matter of factly.

"It's weird that you do that." Quinlin commented dryly.

Arna pursed her lips, glaring at her superior. "I find it weird that elves can't grow facial hair." She shifted into a rather on-point representation of Quinlin, only with a bushy handlebar mustache.

Everyone (with the exception of Quinlin) burst out laughing. Shouting incoherent taunts through the giggling fits.

Arna shifted back to her normal red-headed self. Raising her voice slightly to be heard over the commotion. "So we can all agree that master Quinlin would look rather dashing with a 'stache?"

Squeak!

Everyone turned to the door, where Rhys was awkwardly standing, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Er…Arna? Can I have a word?"

The shifter beamed and left the table, taking Rhys by the arm before closing the door.

Once Arna had left, Valora grinned mischievously. "What's your bet on her coming back, engaged?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Alphyn scoffed. "They've been secretly going out for months if not years already. Besides, they've worked together longer than Arna's been in the cadre."

Roan shook his head. "No, he won't propose. Didn't you see his eyes? They were darting around nervously, not even resting on Arna. He's nervous, probably keeping a secret, and needs to tell someone."

I raised my eyebrows. Roan had been silent since appetizers. And if there was anything I'd gathered about the raven king, it was that he only ever spoke in crowds for three reasons. To be sarcastic, to correct someone, or to warn you.

After dinner, I went to the library. Despite having training in the morning, I prised knowledge and my own curiosity over being on time for Quinlin's instruction; which for some odd reason, I had been failing miserably in.

"A history of the Dwarven wars in the fourth age, historical records on Mythfall's taxes, The Ma'anyr of the eastern continent, no…it should be right here…"

I paused as I heard the voice of Arna; distorted and thick with tears.

"Umm…Arna? Are you alright?" I ask cautiously, turning the corner.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Do you have anything to drink?" Her voice was higher pitched than usual, and speaking very fast.

I hesitated for a second, trying to remember the contents of my cupboards. "Umm," I frowned. "I have tea, elvish wine, coffee, water-"

"No. I need something stronger. Our wine won't cut it."

Sitting on the couch, real wine in hand, tears streaming down her eyes, Arna sobbed into my shoulder. "H-he's leaving! Alberic c-can't let h-him g-go! H-he'll die!"

I wrapped my arm around her. "Arna, calm down, Rhys will be…" I trailed off. What did I know of this world? I had only known Rhys for no more than a week. "Arna, if you wish, and with Rhys' consent, I can talk to my father about this, I can try to convince Alberic not to make him go. Okay?"

Arna nodded, her breaths still ragged and pained.

I tilted her head up and forced her to look into my eyes. "I swear that I'll help you. But only if Rhys is okay with it."

My eyebrows furrowed as my hand passed over a raised line on Arna's skin.

She gasped and shoved my hand away.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "But may I ask, what's that scar from? I noticed it back in Thaelin, but I was too afraid to say anything."

Arna looked down and surprised me by even responding. "It's an old scar," she muttered, choosing her words carefully. "When I was young, my cousin and I were playing with the knives that we had been given for Starfall. He nicked me on the neck, and when it wouldn't stop bleeding, he cut himself as well." She sighed and continued to sob for a minute. "One day, a few years later, I came home for the holidays and found my house in ruins. Blood splattered on the floor and up the wall. I found my aunt and uncle's house destroyed. Simply because of what we were. A family of shifters. I could identify each person's blood. Mass amounts of blood…body parts were strewn across the ground. A finger, a toe, an ear, an eye…" she trailed off, silently sobbing into her hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" I murmured, unsure of what to say.

Arna sniffed. "I can hide my scars pretty well, make them fainter or lighter depending on what shade of skin I shift to; but I never try to hide the scar on my neck. I don't even think I can."