Elian gulped.
Unmoving.
"I do not understand what you speak of," Elian said, his voice controlled.
"Move, please," Finn said, gesturing toward the stables ahead.
Elian glanced at Finn's face before he resumed his limp toward the stables.
"I can't say what exactly..." Finn started again behind Elian, "but I can feel it," he said.
Elian didn't reply. There was no use carrying on the conversation with the young guard; it would only lead to complicated responses.
"I know you wonder why I'm placed as a guard... for the Duke's chambers, too," Finn spoke up, falling in step with Elian.
"I have no concerns with what you speak of," Elian replied, his voice rough as thirst kicked in.
"You do... because I'm not just a simple guard. His Grace placed me there because I can tell what people are thinking... I tell him right away when I sense something amiss. Does it still not concern you?" Finn asked, walking ahead to stand in Elian's path.
Elian halted, staring at Finn with apprehension.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Finn shrugged. "You can rest your mind, Elian. I can only sense intentions, not see them. However, I'd like to ask you to be careful..." he paused, watching Elian's face with interest. "I sense bitterness, revenge... and a very heavy secret," Finn spoke carefully. "I suggest you direct them away from His Grace—"
"Or what?" Elian cut Finn off, gritting his teeth. "He would kill me just like he killed my father?" he seethed. "If you have nothing new to say, hurry and chain me to the stables and return to your noble post," Elian bit out.
With renewed strength, he limped past Finn and reached the stables in a few steps. Finn narrowed his eyes and followed Elian. Elian was already sitting on the floor in front of an open stall with his shoulders slouched. Finn walked over to him and stood in front of him.
"I do not want you to suffer, Elian. I just hope you comply with whatever His Grace asks. It will lessen your pain," Finn said and turned away.
Elian frowned. "You say you sense people's intentions," his words paused Finn's departure. Finn stood there, not turning. "Then, you must have seen my father before your Duke wrongly executed him? What did you sense from him? Tell me," he asked, gritting his teeth as he stared at Finn's back.
Finn turned. Never approached. He looked at Elian for a few seconds before putting his hand into the small sack bag hanging around his waist.
"Rest early, Elian. You'll need your strength to face His Grace by sunrise," Finn threw something at Elian and walked away without looking back.
Elian glanced at the thing Finn had thrown his way and his eyes widened slightly. Bread. Not stale, not half-eaten. It was actually fresh... smelled fresh. His mouth watered instantly. He hadn't had anything to eat since the Duke ordered his release last night. He scrambled closer and grabbed the small, soft bread, his stomach growling in anticipation.
He was almost taking a bite when he paused, frowning into the night. Why was Finn offering his food? Was it poisoned? Did Finn want to kill him to protect the Duke? Why wasn't he even chained as the Duke had ordered?
His stomach growled more angrily this time. Whatever, he thought and sank his teeth into the soft dough.
"Mmm..." he moaned, chewing aggressively, eager to sate his hurting stomach. If it was poisoned, then he'd probably die in his sleep without feeling the pain. That might actually be nice; he wouldn't have to face that monster by sunrise. He ate up the whole thing in a short time, belching loudly.
Water. He needed to drink some water to push down the lump hanging in his throat. Finn had not bothered to give him water alongside the bread.
Sip...
Just then Elian heard a horse sipping water from its bucket from the stall beside him. An idea surfaced in his head. He placed himself on all fours and crawled over to the next stall, lowering his upper body under the door to peep into the stall. That same black horse from the morning was leisurely sipping its water. Even the animals had a better life than he did.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Black... I'm thirsty, too," he whispered, locking his eyes with the horse.
A low snort left the horse's flared nostrils, warm breath misting in the cold night air. Then it turned, trotting gently away, its back to Elian.
"Thank you," Elian murmured and slid his hand through the small space under the door, and grabbed the wooden handle of the bucket. The side of his face was already pressed onto the ground as he had to really bend to reach for the bucket, groaning quietly as he dragged the bucket over.
When the bucket was accessible, he sat himself on the floor and pulled it from under the door. Without looking to check how clean the water was, he leaned down and sipped from the horse's water. Looking might discourage him, and he really needed to get something wet down his dry throat. The cold liquid ran down his parched throat, soothing the soreness that had almost become accustomed to him for many nights.
"Ahh..." he tilted his head back and sighed, feeling alive after so long. "That was refreshing..." he murmured and leaned against the stall door.
He did not realize he'd fallen asleep, but the sudden whimpering from a distance jolted him awake.
"Uhh..." he yawned tiredly, looking around him. No one. He glanced outside the stables and realized that it was nearly sunrise. What had that sound been? It certainly wasn't a horse. Or, had he imagined it?
He tried to lean back against the stall door but he heard it, and this time, it was accompanied by a low clink of metal. He frowned. Someone was definitely crying. And it was a child.
He stared at his leg and sighed. He wasn't in the best shape to search for a weeping child at such unholy hours, but his conscience would never let him fall back asleep. Elian gently shifted the bucket of water back into the stall and yawned one more time. He stretched his hands above his head and cracked his aching neck.
"Damn it..." he whispered, cupping his neck with his hands. He had forgotten that Lucien took the pleasure to reopen the wound Soren had treated. Cursing Lucien internally, he gritted his teeth and gently pulled himself up by the help of the stall wall. He stood there, holding onto the wall for a few seconds. After making sure he wasn't feeling dizzy or faint, he slowly started to walk.
He stepped out of the stables and stood still, waiting to hear that whimpering again. He did. It sounded right behind the stables. Elian glanced around him one last time to make sure this wasn't some sort of death trap, then, he moved toward the sound.
He walked around the stables, pausing when he reached the last corner that would take him behind the building. The whimpering was louder now, and Elian threw every caution out of the window and cornered the building. Behind the stables, the moon barely got in due to the canopies of trees shading the building from heat. Piles of wood were stacked high behind the walls, axes hanging beside them.
He didn't know where to look.
"Hahh," he heard a faint hiss from the bark of a particular tree.
Found you, he thought.
With his wounded leg, he limped over to the tree, leaves ruffling under his feet as he moved.
"No, no, please, don't come any closer!" A young girl suddenly hopped out from behind the tree, holding out a long stick toward Elian.
Elian immediately lifted his hands in surrender. "I won't," he agreed instantly. Not because he was scared of the eleven-year-old girl, but because he wanted her to relax and trust him. "I won't move until you ask me to," he murmured softly, staring at her face.
The girl stared at Elian with wide, scared eyes, her hands trembling as her lips wobbled.
"S-stay away..." she stammered, darting her eyes around for an escape.
Elian took a limp step backwards, nodding slowly. Even he would be scared of himself. He must look like some madman with the way he looked. The girl was right not to trust him.
"D–don't come any c-closer," she threatened with her stick.
"I just want to help you. I promise," Elian spoke softly.
"I don't need your help—"
"You're hiding from someone, right? I can help you hide. Stay with me in the stables; no one would think to search for you in there..." he suggested carefully.
The girl vehemently shook her small head. "Liar..." her voice came out weaker than usual as she glanced around her as if she was checking to see if someone was coming.
Elian swallowed gently. "Look how wounded I am. You can beat me to a pulp with your stick if I behave silly," he suggested, taking a cautious step forward.
She didn't stop him. Good.
"Let me help you, I won't hurt you..." he whispered, stretching his hand out to her. The girl didn't let go of her weapon; she clutched it tight in her hands as she narrowed her scared eyes at him. Her tears fell harder as she glanced around her.
Hesitation. Not rejection.
"Take my hand, sweetheart... I'll hide you till sunrise," he cooed softly.
Snap...
The sound of a twig snapping in two echoed from a close distance.
Close...
Too close.
"Damn it, he's coming," she whispered and suddenly ran into Elian's arms, hugging him tightly.
"You curse, sweetheart?" Elian asked with a smirk, steadying her with his hands.
"Take me away, now!" she whispered aggressively.
Elian nodded. "My honor."
For the first time since he left the dungeons... he held someone's hand. Children were always his best people to hold. Pure. Unaffected by the world's cruelty. Real.
However, the moment his hand touched hers, he froze, going completely still as his hand fell limp from the girl's hand.
"Sire?! Please, take me away from here," she tugged at his torn shirt.
Elian's face darkened, his hands clenching tightly as he gritted his teeth.
"Sire—"
"Don't worry, angel..." he cupped the girl's face, "I'll help you. But I just need you to hide, can you do that?" he whispered.
The girl bit her lip and nodded.
"Go," he said, turning her toward the stables.
"Ah, there you are, Lynda, playing hide-and-seek again?" A man's throaty voice sounded right behind Elian.