“The disparity between the different races within Alderosh is startling to any outsider. To the long-lived elves, humans are children that must be strictly moderated, and on the occasion where these two races interbreed, their resulting offspring are viewed as little more than animals…”

-Pilgrim Keen, Truthseeker

Aeric

Mortalia pulls me across the vast Embervane estate, out to the back edge of the property. She points me to a short tower, maybe two stories tall and covered over in greenery.

“This is my playhouse. Papa had it built for me. Isn’t it just like a storybook tower? Come on!”

She leads me up a spiral staircase; I follow, a bit dizzy. When we reach the top I see it’s furnished for royalty, with thick rugs and curtains and velvet covered furniture. The walls are fitted with bookcases overflowing with volumes. On her messy desk there stands a net and a glass jar which she picks up excitedly.

“Have you ever caught butterflies before, Aeric?”

I stare at her stupidly. “Butterflies?”

“That’s right,” she chatters excitedly as we head back down the stairs. “Papa loves insects. He catches all kinds when he goes on his travels and pins them to boards—isn’t it gross? Do you like bugs?”

I know what bugs are. We had a big problem with fleas and lice in the orphanage, before Mother Hain finally got it under control. We had cockroaches, too. I squished plenty of them before when they scared my sisters.

“The rose garden is the best place to catch butterflies,” Mortalia tells me as we come to a green sanctuary, hedged in on all sides, and my eyes widen in awe at the mysterious red clustered folds of what looks to me like paper. Their rich fragrance tickles my nostrils pleasantly.

“Rose…garden…”

“Yes, rose garden. You really don’t talk much, do you? Is that all you can do, repeat things?”

“I…”

I’m not this stupid normally. It’s just that everything that’s happening to me today is all so new and wonderful. And Mortalia herself. She’s so strange and frilly and ethereal, like a fairy from a dream. Her nearness has me a bit tongue-tied. I don’t really know how to explain to her all I’m feeling and thinking in this moment. I can only stare and stammer like a fool.

The impatient look she wore for a moment quickly trades for one of understanding.

“It’s alright,” she encourages me when she finds again I cannot answer, and she takes my hand. “You’re not used to all this, right? You must have grown up on the east side of the city. Papa says the elemental currents there are really weak, and nothing grows. Compared to that, this place must seem like paradise.”

I nod slowly, finding my voice. “Everything’s new, everything’s different. It…it’s like a dream. I keep expecting to wake up.”

“Even if you wake up, I’ll still be here,” she promises, tightening her grip on mine. “If there’s something you don’t understand, I’ll explain it to you, so ask me anything, alright? I know pretty much everything. I’m really smart. Papa says I’m smarter than most grown-ups,” she adds, looking very pleased with herself.

“Then…” I reach a hand out to one of the red spots amidst the sprawling green, “is this a…a flower? I’ve heard of flowers, but…”

Her eyes widen in surprise as she begins to fully grasp the depth of my ignorance. Then once again, they soften, and she shows an incredibly gentle expression.

“Yes, Aeric. This is a rose.”

“Rose…”

I have a lot of questions for Mortalia, and she has all the answers. To my relief, she does not mock me for my ignorance, but explains things in a way easy for me to understand. She tells me all about flowers and the garden, she explains how plants grow from the soil—some decorative, and some for eating.

“You’ve really never seen a single growing plant before?”

I shake my head.

“Not even…grass?”

I look wistfully down at the wondrous green carpet beneath my feet. “It’s my first time seeing any of this.”

“Come on, then,” she says, inspired. “Let’s take off our shoes!”

We spend the morning running barefoot through the cool grass, chasing colorful fluttering insects she calls butterflies and catching them to keep in a jar. It’s the kind of game the other kids at the orphanage would have loved to play, and I find myself vainly wishing they were here now, sharing this carefree, magical moment with me.

Soon we have a whole jar full of butterflies, and with our noses pressed against the glass, Mortalia tells me the fancy names for each species. She may as well be speaking another language for all I comprehend, but somehow it makes me glad to listen to this strange girl talk so happily.

When we’ve had our fill of chasing butterflies, Mortalia opens the jar and we watch in wonder as they soar up into the air in a rainbow colored whirlwind.

“I always let them go. I could never keep a living thing in a jar. It’s even worse to imagine sticking a pin through one, don’t you think?”

I nod solemnly.

“It’s too cruel,” she says with a slight frown. “I wish Papa wouldn’t kill his bugs. Sometimes I think he’s a bit evil…”

I cock my head faintly. She thinks Lord Embervane is evil for sticking pins through butterflies? I wonder what she’d think if she knew her father stuck something larger than a pin through another human being just last night?

Well, I won’t mention it. I feel a certain duty to cover for the man who saved my life, and besides, I think it would make her upset to hear about it.

Somehow, I find the thought of this girl being sad…a little unbearable…

Mortalia

Aeric is wonderful. Everything I could have asked for in a playmate and more.

I spend the morning dragging him around the estate. He follows wherever I go and does what I like without complaint. He’s perfect. Just like Chewy, my old rabbit I used to take everywhere. He even looks a little like a rabbit, I think, with his big eyes and solemn expressions, that beautiful silver mane and his adorable pointy ears. Sitting in the grass and braiding a daisy crown, I watch him with an increasingly warm feeling as he runs excitedly through the gardens, delighted by each leaf and blossom, by every bug and blade of grass.

I’m so happy. After eight years of growing up with only half the love of each distracted parent and the weary attention of the staff, I finally have my very own person all to myself.

I must remember to thank Papa later, for bringing me such a wonderful pet.

“Come here, Aeric,” I call him, and he turns from the beetle he was studying to trot obediently toward me. I rise and reach my arms up to lay the crown of blossoms atop his shaggy mane, and gasp faintly in delight as I take in the picture.

“Oh, it’s even better than I imagined,” I say, clasping my hands faintly over my heart. “You’re just like a fairy prince,” I declare, and Aeric reddens deeply. He opens his mouth to answer me, but instead another sound rumbles from him. His stomach growls loudly, and his blush deepens.

“You’re hungry,” I realize, and his gaze falls as his stomach growls again. “Don’t be embarrassed, come with me,” I say, and find my hand slips easily inside his. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Aeric follows me back to the house, and I leave him in the tea room while I skip down to the kitchens. I’m so happy I’m practically floating on air as I help myself to the larder, heedless of the kitchen staff’s protests. I wonder what kind of food Aeric would like to eat. I guess I should have asked him.

I return to the tea room with my arms full of fresh produce. I got a little carried away, I admit, and I was thinking of Chewy again when I went for the vegetables and berries. But this is alright too, I decide, since this gives me a chance to show Aeric something new. I doubt he’s ever seen so many different kinds of produce in his life.

“Here,” I spread my haul on the table: lettuce, carrots, radishes, celery and blueberries. “All these plants grow from the soil, just like the grass and the flowers.”

Aeric stares in wonder as I wave a lettuce leaf in his face.

“It’s good. Try it.”

He takes it and bites into it heartily. He chews thoughtfully a moment, then stuffs the rest of the leaf into his mouth, scarfing it down without stopping to taste. I giggle behind my hand as I pass him another lettuce leaf.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, mouth full.

“You don’t eat like a rabbit at all.”

“Why would I?”

“No reason,” I giggle again, and hand him a carrot. “Don’t eat the green part.”

Aeric goes through the produce, trying everything. He doesn’t seem picky at all, but eats everything hungrily. He stuffs blueberries in his mouth till his chin runs with juices.

“You’re messy,” I say, and he blinks up at me with bright, questioning eyes, daisy crown still sitting crookedly atop his head. He wipes his face with his sleeve, smearing blueberry juice across his cheeks.

Oh my gosh, he’s so cute! He’s so cute—I think I might die!