Story: Part Two

 They were transported to the castle in the back of a cart. It was definitely more of a cart than a carriage. It had some cushions and benches to sit on but no more luxury than that. There had been a lot of discussion between Robin and the man in charge, not that Hazel could follow what they were saying, since she didn't understand Elvish and was still feeling the effects of the crossing anyway. Robin had managed to convince them that they weren't a threat, although her sickness may have done most of the work. They weren’t being treated as prisoners exactly, but she didn't think they would have been given much of a choice of where to go, even if they knew what the options were. Half the guards were escorting them, and presumably the other half were left packing up or waiting to see if anyone else came through the gate. 

Robin had tucked her up in the pillows. The night was colder here than at home and they'd been temporarily relieved of their bags. Robin sat on one of the benches, looking out at what he could see of the landscape in the darkness. The cart rolled over a rut in the road, knocking them both sideways. Hazel groaned. 

“The driver's nearly as bad as you on the quad,” she said, rearranging the pillows. Robin didn’t respond and continued looking out around them. Hazel hit his leg.

“What was that for?”

“I insulted your driving and you didn't respond. I was checking that you weren't dead.”

“I don't think this is really the time for jokes.”

“Did he say where they were taking us?”

‘He’ was the elf in charge, with the dark, curly hair and blue eyes.

“To the person in control of this region. Duke Narlena. Our new friend is, if I translated it right, General Gosht. His second-in-command wanted to restrain us, but he decided you were too sick to run, and didn't think I would leave you. But they took our bags to make sure.”

“They don’t know you very well.”

“I know, if I could get my bag back I'd leave you a heartbeat.” He gave her a small smile. Hazel threw a pillow at him which drew the General’s attention. He rode over, level with the cart and gave them a stony look before speaking to Robin.

“We’re about to arrive,” Robin translated. They turned a corner and Hazel pulled herself onto the bench next to Robin. The word castle conjures up a lot of images; Disney-fied versions, all turrets and glamour. Or the great empty halls they visited with school which, although they still had their walls and roof, were still unimaginable as somewhere people had lived. And she’d seen many ruins that she couldn't picture complete at all. What was before them now looked more like a stately home than a castle. There was an outer wall, but no drawbridge, and the squat building was set slightly away from the more practical outbuildings the castle needed. It wasn't particularly pretty, and not a turret in sight, but it did look fortified. Hazel wasn't worried about getting in though - that seemed to be happening whether she wanted to or not - getting out again was her worry.

They pulled up near the front door and someone came down the steps to meet the General and his men. It looked like an argument started.

“They can't decide to put us in rooms or prison.” Robin said.

Hazel looked up. The upper storey of the building was dark, if there were windows then there weren’t any lights on.

“I bet no one wants to make a decision without the Duke in case it's the wrong one, but he's probably in bed.” She watched the arguing group. The General had dismounted and stood silently as the steward gesticulated at him. He looked over at the cart and made eye contact with Hazel. She couldn't look away. He strode over, ignoring the steward who was still talking to him, and undid the back of the cart.

“Come.”

Robin and Hazel looked at each other, surprised that he’d spoken in English, and clambered down to the floor. Robin steadied her as she landed. The General motioned to his men and their bags were returned. Another gesture and most of the guards and the cart moved away towards the outbuildings. He nodded to them and turned on his heel, following his men and leaving them with the steward who looked fit to burst.

The steward found some men from the house to escort them, presumably in case they suddenly attacked. Hazel was led to a very basic room; bed, chair, empty fireplace. It was barely warmer than outside. She was ushered into the room and the door was locked behind her. 

“Definitely more prisoner than guest,'' she said out loud to herself..

She thought she heard Robin shout, but the door was so thick that everything was muffled. She scouted the room for anything that might allow her to talk to him, like a grate or something. There weren’t even any windows. She tried shouting into the fireplace, remembering that sometimes they merge and share flues. She found heavy bars across the inside of the chimney just above the hearth, but couldn't decide if they were to keep intruders out or people like her in. Neither answer was comforting. In lieu of any other options she changed out of her soiled top and tried to get warm under the bed covers. She must have dropped off because the next thing she knew she was being woken by a knock at the door. She heard a key turn in the lock and the door opened slightly.

“Hello? You can come in,” she said, jumping out of the bed. She felt weird speaking in English, as everyone she met so far had only spoken Elvish. No, not quite everyone. The General, although he'd spoken Elvish to Robin, he definitely spoke to the pair of them in English when he wanted them to get off the cart last night. Unless she misheard and it just sounded like English. But she couldn't check with Robin.  The door opened wider and a man with dark skin entered holding a tray in front of him. He walked across to the fireplace, followed by a pale girl carrying a small table. The girl hurried as if she wanted to be gone as soon as possible. Another girl appeared and set a fire in the fireplace. The girl with the table had placed it down and pushed open some shutters that Hazel had thought were part of the wood panelling when she investigated last night. Weak sunlight lit the room. Once the girls were done, the man nodded his approval and they left. Hazel could almost feel their relief. They’d tried very hard not to look at her, like she was something awful. The table was low, and the man sat on the floor beside it and indicated that Hazel should join him.

“Please, have some breakfast with me. You must be very hungry after your adventures last night.”

Hazel was shocked. “You speak English?” She put a pillow from the bed on the floor before sitting down opposite him.

“I speak several dead languages. This is the first time I've had a chance to practise with a native speaker.”

“Dead language? It’s one of the most widely…”

“But here it is dead,” he interrupted. “No one has used it for everyday speech for a very long time, and people very rarely move between our worlds now.”

“So why did you learn a dead language?”

“Do you not learn languages from your culture’s past?”

“Not me. Scholars, lawyers, politicians, aristocrats. Is that what you are?”

He paused to think for a moment. “Yes.”

“Which one?”

“I would say my role encompasses all of them.” He removed the cover from a plate. “This morning though, I am your server.” The food smelt really good. Some sort of bread, still warm from the oven. Porridge with jam. A pot steaming with what she optimistically hoped was coffee. She picked up some of the bread, and almost bit into it before carefully placing it on the plate in front of her.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“I just thought of something, and I don't mean to be rude, but there's an old wives’ tale. It says if you step into a fairy ring that you shouldn't let anything pass your lips or you'll never be able to leave.”

“Do you believe this fairy story?”

She shook her head. “No. But then again, I never expected to end up in the place it might hve been warning me about.”

“Well. If it puts your mind at ease, this food is freely given, with no bonds or requirements and you are free to leave.”

“Am I?”

The man gestured at the food again. “Please, I feel we have had a misunderstanding about why you are here. Eat while I try to explain.” Hazel picked up the slice of bread again and bit into it. It tasted as good as it smelt. “My name is Antelé. I'm here representing Duke Narlena. Your arrival last night took one of our patrols by surprise. It was never common for people to come through the gates, and now it is completely unheard of. I suspect the younger recruits didn't even know what was happening. These tales are no longer told by our firesides.” He chuckled a little and poured from the pot. “The manner of your arrival, and the company you were keeping, alarmed General Gosht. He assumed at first you had been stolen by the Rhasper you were with.”

Hazel had no idea what that was, but she kept silent and drank the coffee that had been poured.

“Seeing your companions' concern for your health,” he continued, “the General decided Duke Narlena would want to see the pair of you. Unfortunately, the night steward does not like to be forced to deviate from his routine, and you certainly are not routine. I hope you can forgive your treatment given how unusual your presence is, and how unprepared everyone was for it.”

Hazel put down the cup. “I guess there was no real harm done, although I won't be happy until I see Robin. It wasn't right separating us.”

“Again, my apologies. Until we understood your relationship it was felt to be for the best. I assure you he is safe and well, apart from some minor injuries sustained fighting the guard last night when they separated you.”

She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that but she was relying on this man to get back to Robin.

“Would you be able to explain how you managed to come through the gate? As I said, it's been a very long time since there's been any interaction between our peoples.” 

“In all honesty, I don't know.” 

“You came with bags. It seems to me that you planned to cross.”

“Robin wanted to cross. On my parents land there is a stone, much like the one where the patrol found us. He had been told by an Elder,” she didn't know that was even the right term but it felt right, “that the gates were going to open soon. I don't know how he figured that out or how long he knew. What information he did have was vague; there would be ‘signs’ but he wasn't told what the signs were. I don't think many of his people believed that it would happen. His parents certainly didn't.”

“You know his family?”

She nodded. “They work on the farm with my family.”

“So you have known each other a long time?”

“Yes.”

Antelé sipped his drink. “I'm sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

“Finally something happened which Robin thought might be a sign - an aurora. He asked me to come with him to find his way back to where his people originally came from. I agreed. I'm not sure if, when I agreed, that I thought it was actually going to work.”

“But you knew it must because, as you say, his people come from here.”

Hazel paused to think. “There’s a difference between knowing something happened to another person and thinking it will happen to you. I know people once came through the gates, that there was a realm, a plane of existence, parallel to my own. I’ve grown up with Robin and his family, I've worked with others like him, but when we touched the stone I didn't expect to be taken there. Here.”

“You touched the stone?”

“Yes. That's how we came through. We placed our hands on it and then we were here.” 

Antelé got to his feet. “Thank you. This has been a most interesting discussion. I hope you enjoy the rest of this meal and I will see that you are reunited with your companion soon.” He walked to the door and paused, like he’d forgotten something. “The Duke is holding a feast tonight for your welcome. I hope you will feel up to attending.”

Hazel swallowed the mouthful of bread she just taken a bite of. “Sure, but I hope the dress code is casual because I didn't pack for fancy dinners.” 

“I'll make sure suitable attire is found.” He left, and locked the door behind him.

Hazel deflated. The locked door wasn't a positive sign. She wasn't sure she believed him about the patrol being there by chance either. Things didn't make sense. If the Elves at home had to flee, what were these Elves doing here? What was that name he used for Robin? ‘Rhasper’? She got up and walked over to the window. It wasn't much of a view. Her room overlooked the space between the house and stables. There were a few people milling about. She tried to open the window for air, but the window didn't seem to have any kind of mechanism. She frowned. Was that the way windows here were, or just another sign that this was a fancy cell?

The day passed slowly. Robin was brought to her so they could share their lunch, but the two bodyguards standing in the room put a damper on things. She no longer trusted that people wouldn't understand them if they were speaking English. She mentioned her breakfast companion but didn't want to discuss him too much in front of the guards. Robin didn’t seem to have been mistreated, although he did have a split lip from someone's elbow in the struggle the night before. Hazel thought there was something else though. His eyes looked darker. Maybe it was just bad light or lack of sleep, but they didn't seem their usual lilac. She tried to cheer him up, suggesting that if they were guests of honour at the feast then the Duke couldn’t have taken against them too much. “After all,” she reasoned, “you don't throw a feast for prisoners, right?” 

“Let's go for a walk outside then, shall we?” Robin replied sourly.

They sat in silence for a while before the guards indicated that visiting times were over. Antelé kept his word, and late afternoon some more pale girls appeared at her door with a variety of dresses. Again, they didn't seem happy in her company, and once she’d picked a dress they more or less ran from her room. She picked a blue one, not because she liked the colour particularly, but because it was the one with the least amount of ties and fastenings. It was one she could actually put on herself, unlike the others. No shoes had been provided though, so she put her boots back on. As long as she stood still you couldn't tell. The owner of the dress must be slightly taller than she was, as the dress skimmed the floor. She just hoped that she didn't step on the hem and fall over. She had just finished trying to do something with her hair when there was a knock and her door unlocked.

Antelé had come to escort her to the meal. She was going to ask after her friend, but it was quite possible he was sulking and refusing to attend. She couldn't blame him, but if she wanted to know what was going on she would have to see the Duke. They were already suspicious of them so she would have to try and smooth things over. Antelé gave her a small bow before holding out his arm for her. She bobbed a curtsy, hoping she was doing it right, before taking his arm. She'd not been able to see much of the castle the night before, but now she could take in the décor a bit more. There were paintings, both landscapes and portraits, and the occasional sculpture. She tried to make a note of landmarks in case she needed to find her way back. 

They descended a flight of stairs, and the sound of music and people became audible. The doors to the castle’s hall were open, light spilling out. Hazel couldn't believe how many people had attended on what must surely have been short notice. They couldn’t possibly all live in the castle. People looked at her as she entered, and there was a man by the door announcing people as they entered. It felt very grand, like one of the BBC period dramas. Shame she couldn’t understand what was being said about her. The band was positioned on a balcony so they didn't take up space on the dancefloor. A number of couples were already swirling around on it.

“You seem impressed.” Antelé said.

“I’ve never seen anything like it in real life.” She took a glass of something bubbly from a waiter. Antelé beamed. They stood to one side of the room. A lot of people came to speak to Antelé and bowed or curtsied to her. Hazel smiled and curtsied back. She still didn't know what Antelé did, but he was either important or well-liked. Someone cleared their throat next to her and made her jump. It was the General, his dark hair was tied back but a curl or two escaped from the tail. He was wearing a jacket which looked military but must have been a dress uniform because it was very well-fitted. She tried not to think about exactly how well-fitted it was. This was neither the time nor place. 

“He's asking you to dance.” Antelé explained.

Hazel smiled at the General but spoke to Antelé. “I don't think I can. I don't know the steps.”

“It's rude to turn down an offer.” He looked upset.

“I think it might be ruder if I step on his toes.” She watched the General’s face to see if there was any sign of him understanding, but he didn't even blink. Antelé translated the comment and there was a quirk of a smile. He replied and Antelé quickly translated. 

“He's willing to take the risk.” He turned away to speak to someone else. Evidently, he deemed the matter settled.

The general took her hand and led her to the dance floor. He put one hand on her waist but she could barely feel it, and led her around the floor. She looked around to try and see the other couples but with the dresses it was impossible to see the steps.

“Hazel.” He said her name so softly it sent a shiver down her spine. She looked up at him and into his blue eyes. The light of the chandeliers seemed to make them twinkle. Looking up at him and not the other couples suddenly made it easier to dance. As she followed his lead she really felt like she was in one of those period dramas, everyone's skirts swirling around. He did spin her around too, her own Mr Darcy. Except Darcy was a prick. She felt more graceful than she ever had, looking in his eyes it all felt very safe, intimate, intense, creepy. She shook her head and tried to get rid of those thoughts.

“So, do you understand me?” She asked him.

“Yes.”

“But you didn't the other night.”

“Your world has many languages which you might have spoken. I knew which one your friend would understand.” 

“Do many people here speak English?”

He thought for a moment. “No, only those have had a… comprehensive education.”

Hazel guessed that didn’t mean the same as going to a comprehensive school.

“So like Antelé then.”

“We had similar schooling.” He seemed to be about to ask her something when there was a commotion from the direction of the entrance, currently behind her. She tried to turn and look but the General was also putting himself between her and the noise. He hadn’t let go of her hand, and then with the switching of places, and the other guests turning to look, Hazel stepped on her dress and fell over. 

The atmosphere in the room changed suddenly. She felt cold, everything seemed harsher to her, as if it has all been in soft-focus before. She could hear other people’s voices over the music, which she couldn’t before, and the lights seemed brighter.

“Here.” He held out a hand to help her feet. As her fingers touched his she could feel it happen, the rest of the world going out of focus. She snatched her hand back.

“What was that?” She demanded.

“Get your hands off her, you prick.” Robin barged in and placed himself between her and the General. He’d been provided suitable clothes for the feast too; dark gold on the jacket to match his tawny blonde hair. But if he was ready, why had it taken him so long to arrive?

She got to her feet by herself. “I'm ok, Robin. We were just dancing.”

“You can't even do the hokey cokey, and now you do ballroom? He had you under a glamour.”

She looked at the General and knew it was true. None of the Elves back home could do magic, but despite the real-life presence of otherworldly beings for some decades, pop culture retained the notion that witches, vampires, and other morally questionable creatures could use magic to assert their will over others.

“I wanted to talk but you were concentrating on dancing,” the General explained, “It was just to remove the distraction. You enjoyed the dance, didn’t you?”

Hazel felt sick. Part of her had told her it was wrong, but has been overridden by something else.

“You can make her believe she was enjoying it.”

The General stepped closer to Robin, looming over him. “And you didn't do the same last night?”

“That was different!”

Hazel thought back. He had told her she was fine, that it was safe, and she had felt better. Was that because her friend had told her so or because he glamoured her?

“I bet that wasn't the first time either.” The General was like a shark who’d smelt blood.

“It was, if he did. No magic at home.” Her voice sounded hollow.

“It's not really magic, or uses such tiny amounts compared to the other magics that it’s barrey worthy of the title. The power of a name, a touch, eye contact,” the General said.

Robin turned to face her. “El, it's not true.”

They’d known each other for too long. She knew his tells. “You bastard.” She looked at the General. “Both of you. You utter bastards.” She walked away from them, the crowd parting for her. There were open doors to the outside, she picked up her skirts so as not to trip and ran out and across the lawn. This must be the back of the house because she hadn't seen it before. She hurried away from Robin, still shouting her name after her, tears burning down her cheeks. Feet thundered behind her and Robin grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Don't fucking touch me,” she screamed at him. Immediately he let go. “It’s true isn't it? You could glamour at home. You used it on me.”

“Not to actually…do stuff. He's wrong, it does take magic, and there isn't enough at home. Nudges, suggestions. Not actually do stuff like he did.”

“I'm. Your. Friend.” She punctuated the words by hitting him. He raised his arms to fend her off. “How could you do this?” She thought back to the night they left, his hands on her shoulders asking her to come with him. Did he do it then? She spun on her heel and walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” It started to rain, great big fat drops. The General was suddenly in front of her. She hadn’t noticed his approach. He shrugged out of his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

“Please, come back inside. You won’t get far outside the walls, even without the rain.”  The jacket smelt good, spicy like cloves. It took her moment to take in what he said.

“Is that a threat?”

“No. The lands around here are not safe, that is why we patrol. Come inside. The Duchess would not like her dress ruined.” He shepherded her back to the castle, not to the door she had fled through, but to a small set of glass doors at one end of the building. The General hadn't invited Robin to follow, but didn't send him away either. He unlocked the door, and moved around the room, stoking the fire, lighting lamps, before leaving by the interior door with no indication of if or when he would be back. 

Hazel sat down in one of the armchairs by the fire. Robin sat opposite, but she couldn't stay still so got up and paced the room.

“I can't believe you would do this to me. When? How many times? Did you make me come here?” Something the General said earlier clicked. “Is that why you never call me Hazel?”

“There's a powerful magic in a name.” It sounded like he was quoting something. “That's why I don't use it, yes. I didn't make you come here. I may have nudged you towards something you already wanted, but I didn’t make you do anything. I haven't been able to make you do anything since…”

“Since…?”

He put his head in his hands. “The first time we found the pillar in the woods.”

“The other week?”

He took a deep breath. “No, the time when you ended up in hospital. I had just discovered what I could do. You didn't like the wood but I wanted to go, so I made you.”

“I don't remember the pillar.” She didn’t remember much of that day at all.

“My parents thought it was bad for you to know. They… they made you forget. And it's not just that your dad that banned us from the woods. They…impressed it on us. But it finally wore off.” 

Hazel was shaking. “Your parents made me forget!” Tilly had been a second mother. Yip had taught her to ride a cow because they didn't have horses, he’d fixed grazed knees. Then messed with her mind.

“Don't be mad at them. They did what they thought was best.” He gestured at the room. “They might have been right.”

“That doesn't make it ok.”

“Please, I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry you were caught.”

“No. I'm sorry for breaking your trust.”

The door opened and the General returned.

“And you!” She turned to face him, “what sorry excuse do you have for controlling me like that?”

He shrugged. “I told you I need to talk to you, and I wanted you to focus on me and not the dance.”

“And you think that's alright?”

“Yes. There is information I need, which I was going to ask you about before your little friend here caused a scene.”

“So why not just bring me here, or come to my room like Antelé did, like a normal person?”

“Because I didn't want him to know I was asking. Now at least I have a reason to keep you two away from the party for a bit, although since it’s in your honour, we'll have to return soon.”

“So what did you want to know? What is so important you turned me into a puppet?”

“Why are you here?”

Hazel threw up her hands. “I told Antelé this! Robin wanted to return to his homeland and it turns out I may or may not have agreed to come along.”

“But this is not his homeland.”

Hazel sat down. “I'm confused. This is where the Elves came from. Through the pillars.” She looked at Robin but his head was in his hands, his face hidden.

“This is Tallermin. The Rhasper do not inhabit these lands, and they never have.”

“Rhasper. Antelé used that word before.” 

“From Rhasplund.” Robin said. “North of here, I think.”

The General nodded. “It is a wasteland now, which is why I'm curious about your arrival.” He fixed Robin with a stern look. “Is this a scouting mission? We've not had one of your kind return for a very long time.”

“A scouting team of two? Some great planning there. No, I didn't realise where we would come out. I was just told to try the gate.”

“By whom?”

Robin looked like he wouldn't reply for a moment. “The last matriarch of the house of Moeric.”

“You said Yama sent you.” Hazel said.

“Yama is the last matriarch. I couldn’t refuse her. She suggested I bring you. She always liked you.”

Hazel didn’t know if she should feel happy or not that the old woman had liked her, and would send her into a dangerous situation. There was a tap on the door and the General stood up.

“We need to go back. The Duke expects you.”

“And if we refuse?” Hazel asked.

“Then I won't be able to help you.” 

They walked single file back towards the sound of the party. Hazel had ignored the General’s arm when he offered it, and Robin followed at the back looking miserable. They were shown to a room opposite the ballroom with the dancefloor. It was full of light from giant chandeliers. At the end of the room, almost spanning its entire width, was a long table set with flowers and laden with covered dishes. Long, plainer tables ran the length of the room. The General led them straight to the decorated table. He stopped abruptly, tapped his heels together and bowed deeply.

“My liege, apologies for our absence.” He said. Hazel stopped next to him and took his lead and curtsied. When she looked up she realised the man at the centre of the table, the man they were here to meet, was Antelé. Either side of him were two beautiful women. One said something to Antelé and he smiled. 

“My lady wife said her dress looks lovely on you. And my brother's coat matches it wonderfully.” He smiled and Hazel blinked at the General, unsure of what to say. Brother?

“The Duchess is most observant.” The General filled in for her. “Both your wives have such excellent taste that they could make anyone look becoming, but not as becoming as themselves. I'm afraid this one may have been ruined, we were caught in the rain.”

Antelé, the Duke, waved his hand. “They have plenty more I'm sure.” They took that as a sign of dismissal. Hazel and Robin were shown two seats at the end of the top table. The General left them for what must have been his regular position further down the table. Hazel gave him back his jacket, releasing its sweet, spicy scent as it was removed. The meal was long and Hazel had no interest in the food. She picked at each course, and when the plates were finally cleared the guests started to fall back into the ballroom. 

“I'm going back to my room,” she told Robin.

“I'll walk you back.”

She shook her head. “I can find it. I just want to be alone.”

“I really am sorry.” 

“I know. It's just there’s been a lot to take in. I need some space.” She hurried up the main staircase before anyone could stop her and tried to retrace her steps. She passed sculptures and paintings that she thought she recognised before finally ending up in a long dark corridor. There was a window at one end and the few lights that were lit showed a lot of portraits. She sighed and sat in the window seat, overlooking the gardens. She’d managed to get lost in the castle. She was probably on the other side of the building to her room. Her mother had always joked that she could get lost in a paper bag. 

Someone came around the corner and into the long gallery. She jumped to her feet.

“I'm so sorry, I think I'm… oh. It’s you.” 

The General came closer, his blue eyes almost glowing in the dark. She sat back down.

“May I join you?” When she said nothing he sat on the other end of the seat.

“Antelé is the Duke.” She finally said.

“You didn't know?”

“He said he was representing the Duke.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Would you have spoken to him as you did if you knew he was the Duke?”

“No.”

“Then the subterfuge was justified. He was there representing himself, he did not lie.”

“And you didn't feel the need to share your relationship with him to me.”

“No. Ours is more professional than fraternal. We only share a mother.”

“So your father was…”

“The Duke.”

“So why is Antelé the Duke now?”

“Our mother died and he was the eldest.” He said it like he was explaining to a child.

“But if your father was the Duke…”

“His father was also the Duke.”

Hazel finally worked out what was going on. “Ohhh. Your mother had two husbands. And now he has two wives.” She meant it more for herself.

“Is that not how you do things?”

“No, not usually. Is everyone involved happy with that arrangement?”

“Of course. What happens when your partner dies?”

“Then you’re left sad and alone.” 

“At least this way you are left sad with someone.”

“Are you married?” She hadn’t meant to say it, and not so bluntly, but it had slipped out. It was hard to concentrate with him so close. Where his hair got damp in the rain it was starting to curl and escape from his ponytail. He may be a dickhead, but he's an attractive dickhead. 

“No, I have not had that blessing.” He looked around. “This isn't anywhere near your rooms, you know.”

She shrugged, “I think I should have turned left at the crying woman picture.”

“You shouldn't have passed that picture at all.” He stood to lead her back to her room.

“I want to ask one more question.” He sat down again. “You said Robin was a Rhasper, and you are…”

“Tallese.”

“Right. So is that a nationality? Religion? Species?”

He sighed deeply. “It is our magic that separates us. And keeps us apart. Magics cannot be mingled.”

“Ok…”

“There is a story. Long ago there was a woman who had five sons. To each of them she gave a gift; one she gave gifts of earth, and to another gifts of air, one fire and one water. For her last son she had nothing left to give. She told them she loved them all and that they should go and use their gifts to find their own lands. The Darrowkin found love in the mountains. The Sakura on the sea. Rhasper on the high plateaus. And the Tallese in the forests. But the last brother found no love. He wandered from place to place, from brother to brother, not finding comfort. He eventually returned to his mother and complained. She said if you cannot find love with them then he should look elsewhere. The Darrowkin made the door and the others blessed it. The last brother walked through never to return.”

“But you said the Rhasper…wait…you’re not talking about them, are you?”

“No,” he said gently.

“You’re talking about me. About us. Humans, I mean. We came from here too?”

“If you believe the story.”

“Do you really have magic?” 

“Give me your hands.”

She was hesitant but held them out and made a cup shape. He put his on the other side to extend the cup after a moment the ball of blue flame appeared between their hands.