"Welcome," the older elf said, bowing his head with a smile before Dorian.
Every member of their small company dismounted, and while Dorian helped Leonie down to the ground, each of them exchanged a warm handshake with the elderly elf who had come to receive them. Dorian turned to him as well and took the man's hands in his own.
"Welcome, Atarax," he greeted him with a friendly smile. Leonie took a closer look at the older elf. He was clearly on good terms with the others—unlike Denniel, who was still studying her with an ominous gaze.
"And whom do I have the honor of meeting in this lady?" the elf asked kindly.
"Leonie—this is Filarion's father, Atarax. Atarax, this is Leonie." The elf in question took the startled girl's hand.
"Welcome here," Leonie said, offering him a cautious smile, which he returned.
"We're going to need your help. Leonie is a forest elf, and she grew up among humans. You know what that means…" Dorian said, and Atarax raised an eyebrow, then looked Leonie over with interest.
"Then that's what I sense on you. Hmm," he hummed. There was no hostility in his gaze, not even particular astonishment.
"I think you really will need some help. I had a suspicion you were going to surprise us," he said cheerfully. "Your father has been waiting on pins and needles for news. He already knows things didn't turn out the way he planned." He tapped his temple, and Dorian merely nodded. "The entire Council has gathered in the great hall upon hearing of your arrival."
"Well, if they've managed to wait this long, they can endure a little longer," Dorian shrugged. "We had a long journey—we should refresh ourselves first. And Leonie will need new clothes as well." Filarion's father nodded at the request.
"Revna would surely be happy to lend her something. I'll send someone to her at once." At this, Leonie went completely pale. Were they seriously going to dress her in Dorian's beloved's clothes? She had no idea how to feel about that. Still, she couldn't very well object, so she fell silent. Dorian immediately sensed the shift in her mood and turned toward her, studying her freckled face with interest.
"Don't worry. We'll have your own clothes brought as well. Not that you don't look stunning in these too, but I thought you'd feel more comfortable if you could change." Leonie blushed at his words, even though she clearly looked as if she had fled halfway across the world from her pursuers—which, in truth, she had.
Marcus snorted.
"We smell magnificent—all of us—as if we'd slept with pigs. I can't wait to finally bathe," he remarked, subtly letting Dorian know he was tired of the conversation.
"And shall I have a room prepared for the lady?" Atarax asked, but Dorian merely shook his head and took Leonie's hand.
"Leonie will be sleeping in my room," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. Leonie blinked up at him in shock. They hadn't discussed this beforehand, so his words caught her completely off guard. How could he think they would live together?
"Excellent," Filarion's father said, tactful enough not to ask further questions, though he did raise his eyebrow in surprise for a moment. Leonie already liked the man for his kindness.
"We'll meet in half an hour," Dorian said with a nod to the older elf, then began pulling Leonie along after him as his friends followed them into the castle.
If the building had been impressive from the outside, it was even more astonishing within. The white stone walls seemed to be threaded with veins of wood, and upon closer inspection each was carved with tiny, perfectly wrought designs. Images and texts written in a language unknown to Leonie were etched into them.
They stepped into a grand foyer where on either side strange, twisting wooden staircases led up to the upper floor. At a glance, Leonie wasn't sure they could support anyone at all—they looked so airy and delicate. As she stood there staring open-mouthed, she suddenly felt something wet in her palm. When she looked down, she nearly cried out in fright. She jumped sideways, straight into Dorian. Nir, trotting beside them in the form of a massive fox, lifted his head and let out something like a laughing screech.
"Nir, behave. You're scaring the poor girl. Go, change back. And put some clothes on," Marcus sighed heavily, shaking his head as he watched the fox dash up the stairs.
"Don't be angry with him. He's been pestering us the whole way about not being able to transform on human land," someone said as they all began climbing the stairs, turning left at the top and walking down a corridor. One by one, everyone disappeared into separate rooms, until only three remained at the end: Leonie, Dorian, and Marcus. At the end of the hall, Dorian stopped before two doors facing each other.
"I'll be right back," Dorian nodded to his friend, who vanished into his own room, while Dorian opened the other door and ushered Leonie inside ahead of him.
The room was enormous, spacious, and bright, and though its furnishings were remarkably simple, elegance radiated from every corner. The bed was huge, dressed in black linens that were likely made of the finest silk. Before the window stood a large writing desk, piled high with papers and weapons. Bows, swords, and daggers adorned the walls as well. And as if that weren't shocking enough, in the corner of the room, on a raised platform, stood a beautifully carved bathing pool—large enough for four people to fit inside.
"This… is this where you usually… bathe?" Leonie asked in astonishment, staring at Dorian, who shrugged reluctantly.
"I told you—it's excessive," he muttered. "Make yourself at home." A soft knock sounded behind them. Dorian turned and opened the door.
"Gretha," he said with a nod, stepping aside to let the maid in. A young, nervous-looking, tall brunette entered, carrying so many clothes in her arms she could barely hold them.
"My lord," she bowed her head, then her curious gaze slid to Leonie.
"My lady," Leonie nodded awkwardly in return.
"Gretha, please help Leonie get ready. I'll be next door—if there's any trouble, I'll hear it," he assured Leonie with a smile, then left them alone and went to Marcus to go over the meeting once more.
In the sudden silence, Leonie didn't know what to say. It was strange to her to have a maid help her with anything. Fortunately, the elf girl immediately set to work. She laid the clothes out on the bed, then went to the bath and held her palm over the pool, murmuring softly, causing the water to begin rising. Leonie felt she would never get used to this.
"My lady, let me help you," the girl said, stepping closer.
"Leonie… my name is Leonie. Please, call me that."
"Thank you. I'm Gretha," the girl smiled, and Leonie smiled back as Gretha began unfastening her dirty clothes, which made Leonie even more embarrassed.
"You really don't have to help," she murmured, her face flushed. The truth was, anxiety seized her even at the thought of anyone seeing her naked. Gretha paused, studied the girl's red face for a moment, then turned away.
"I'll set out everything you might need," she said, placing a large, soft towel by the bath along with several flower-scented soaps.
"In the meantime, I'll choose your dress."
Leonie glanced at the girl's back, then, once she was sure Gretha was occupied, quickly slipped out of her clothes and sank up to her neck in the pleasantly warm water. How could Dorian have thought it a good idea for them to sleep in the same room? They would have to bathe in front of each other! The thought alone flustered her so much that she submerged herself to the top of her head. This was a disaster. She would have to ask Dorian to move her elsewhere. Yes—if she survived this day, she would do just that.
She bathed quickly, washed her hair, and ten minutes later she was sitting on the bed while Gretha sat cross-legged behind her, brushing her wet hair.
"You have beautiful hair," the girl remarked conversationally.
"Thank you," Leonie smiled shyly. "May I ask how long you've worked here?" she added.
"Exactly 156 years," Gretha replied. Leonie nearly choked. It was hard to process that elves lived so long. Could she herself live for centuries, like Dorian? And would she grow tired of it?
"So… you must know everyone here quite well," Leonie probed further. Naturally, there was really only one person she was curious about, and perhaps it was Gretha's 156 years of experience that prompted the knowing smile she allowed herself.
"Less so our lord Dorian. He rarely comes here, as far as I know—he spends most of his time in military camps. And when he is here, he's said to be quiet and withdrawn," she shrugged. "But he's exceedingly polite. The servants are particularly fond of him because he's kind and honorable. Everyone longs for such a leader," Gretha sighed.
"Isn't his father like that?" Leonie turned back in surprise.
"Oh—yes, yes," Gretha began quickly, then lowered her voice. "But the old king has a difficult past, and the love of life has long since left him. He's strict, but fair—and most often quite melancholy."
Gretha sprang up from the bed and examined the work of her quick, skillful hands. She nodded in satisfaction at the intricate braid framing Leonie's face while leaving her thick curls loose down her back.
"You could wear this dress tonight," she said, lifting a deep green garment. "It would suit your hair color. I assume today is an important day. Our king only brings a lady here when he's made a significant decision." At Leonie's shocked expression, she immediately lowered her head. "Forgive my impertinence. My loose tongue will be the death of me one day."
Leonie shook her head but said nothing. What could Gretha have meant? What decision? And had Dorian brought someone here before, for her to think that? Revna, perhaps? What if polygamy truly was common here?
"The green will do," Leonie finally nodded, barely paying attention as she put the dress on and let Gretha lace it up at the back.
"Beautiful! Our lord won't even recognize you," Gretha clapped her hands in delight—just as a deep voice spoke from the doorway.
"Indeed, beautiful." Leonie's gaze met Dorian's, and on his face she thought she saw an emotion she could not quite interpret.