[...continued from previous episode. This is not meant to stand alone.]

Galendria

Gale let her hand brush her shoulder where Fenn had touched it earlier, treasuring the memory of it. He was grateful for her magic. Her magic! She dared to believe he was impressed. Certainly, the wide-eyed glances he kept throwing her direction seemed to say so. Or his expression could be compared to her confused gawking at the lizard-man. 

Doubt rippled through her. Any other Etnfrandian would be outraged. The years of secret practice piled upon her, heavy with guilt. Her father had warned her that practicing magic could earn her exile, or at least banishment from the city’s upper tiers. She had practiced anyway. She couldn’t help it. It was her only connection to–

“Gale?” Fenn’s voice next to her made her leap out of her thoughts.

She shook herself. He would never be bothered by something like that. It was why she had chosen him for a partner.

 “Yes, Fenn?” She turned her head up to him. He didn’t say anything. He only pushed his hair up and looked at her as though he were trying to read her like one of his study books. She found herself glancing at the blood stain on his shirt. It was at about her eye-level, making it all too easy to stare. If only I’d been able to fully heal it. “Does it still hurt?” 

“Hm?” He followed her eyes to his shirt. “Ah. No, it’s healed.”

She nodded. “That’s good.” She found herself pulling her hands into her sleeves. Stop that. She straightened. She had hardly done that since she was a child. Fenn still wasn’t saying anything, so she opened her mouth again. 

But then he spoke. “It still makes me jumpy as a rabbit, though. How dangerous this realm can be, I mean. One minute, those pixies were curious and giggly, but the next…” he hung his head. “And those big beasts. It makes me fear for our adventure. What is lingering in the trees, ready to leap out if we misstep? It’s not safe.” He wore a tense expression, wincing at his own words.

She shivered. “Yes, I can see why you planned this trip with the soldier now. And why you wouldn't want me to come here with you. Near-death experiences aren’t exactly a part of my repertoire. Or they weren’t. But I do have magic to help me, and all of you. But I suppose you didn’t know that. I mean, how could you have? But now we can all look out for each other. It’s going to be alright,” She stumbled through her words, hoping her meaning broke through. “We both had secrets, Fenn, but we can move forward honestly now.”

She caught a glimpse of his pensive expression, the one where his nose and brows wrinkled just a touch. Was my message clear? He should try to include her in the group. Mell thought of her as an asset. He could, too. Not just some potential matron, some old friend with high social standing, but a partner in his expedition, in life. 

“How is it that you wield magic?” he asked at last. 

She felt a spike of nerves followed by a rush of excitement. The time had come to share a secret of her own. She let the giddiness out as she spoke.

“You already know that I’ve always been fascinated with Wood Elf legends.” She saw his lips twitch with a smile, doubtless remembering their childhood games of pretend. She’d be a Wood-Elf princess or warrior, and he was supposed to be her guard or guide or something. “I got curious about the magic, so I asked for a book on Wood-Elf magic from my father. I begged him for it for some twenty years, I think. And he eventually conceded–as always–and I received it for my fiftieth birthday! He must have smuggled it in for me.”

 She shot Fenn a mischievous smile, and her gestures grew more animated as she forgot her worries in the moment. “Then I studied it in secret. In the privacy of my room, I’d read and re-read that book and try out the spells. My dad was irate and threatened to throw it away, but it had significant overlap with my singing, so I could practice without him knowing. You know, a lot of those Etnfrandian songs are laced with magic themselves. It’s a wonder no one has noticed.” Even as she poured herself out to him, she found herself omitting information. It was all too natural after a lifetime of hiding.

Fenn rubbed at his mouth and chin, seeming to digest what she’d said, not even seeing the underbrush fading out as the trees grew denser. They had been there before, Gale noted. 

“Wood Elf Magic?” he said finally.

“Well, yes.” She smiled at him. Her obsession with the Wood Elves had begun before their friendship. Surely he won’t question it.

But shouldn’t he?

  His brows were furrowed deep in thought, working out some problem. 

Once again, she stilled her fingers from fidgeting with her sleeves. “Is that unusual?”

“Hm.” It wasn’t much of a reply. “The only thing I can assume is that somehow you’ve forged a connection with Dara, a thing most Etnfrandians can’t do.”

She tilted her head. “Dara?” Can’t? She suppressed the panic that rose in her as she realized she was not ready to tell him everything. Not all at once. Bosom secrets she’d sworn to her father she would only share if she married threatened to spill out. But Fenn isn’t like others, so why worry? She had no answer, only the clench of fear in her stomach. Of guilt. Liar. Pretender. 

Fake Etnfrandian. 

He had started muttering to himself under his breath. She caught the words races, gods, Silverstem, aligned, and unheard of. “I’m going to have to search this out. Perhaps it’s just a matter of a bit of Wood Elf in a family line, but it is very strange. Just imagine  the possibilities! If any elf can forge a connection with any god, why, we could master any magic we please! I could learn Anruwan’s magic! Or–even better–Cyalmara’s!” He strode on with extra pep in his step. “This is great, Gale! You’ve completely upended my working theory on Elven magic, but it’s wonderful!”

She blinked away her anxieties and focused on the moment. If she was understanding him right, he had believed until now that only Wood Elves could learn the magic of that race, or at least learn it on a deeper level with a connection to the god, which must be Dalla, or Dora, or whatever Fenn had said. She was glad he was so excited about it, but it also seemed she’d misled him. “But what… you said that could mean there’s a trace of Wood Elf in the Silverstem line?” 

He slowed his pace again. “I find it highly unlikely. The tribes were separate until the Unification Era–that’s after the Third War. Especially the Wood Elves. They and the Night Elves remain separate, and it’s not like Etnfrandians would welcome a Wood Elf immigrant. Still, I cannot discount the possibility.”

Galendria sighed in relief. She did not understand this talk of three wars, but she understood he might not be misled after all. Even better, he was excited about her magic. He took her abilities in stride, and she would do the same for his interests. Though, if she were perfectly honest, she still questioned their venture. What lost knowledge could be worth risking life and limb for? Their people were perfectly content living the way they were. They had no need of the deities or their magic.

Even as she thought it, she felt the tension of her inner self straining against the thought. She wouldn’t be the same without magic. Would others feel the same, given the chance?