Crossed Minds (3)

Ashley followed Roylen through the villa to the room being used for the elf's treatment.

Roylen glanced at her, cleared his throat, and knocked.

“Saintess? Are you inside?”

The answer came after a brief pause.

—Yes. I was checking the patient's condition one last time.

“Of course. How fitting that someone of your standing should show such devotion—”

—Please get to the point.

Roylen flinched.

“Ah, forgive me. Lady Ashley of House Pelgaroin, Viscount Theorad's fiancée, would like to see how the patient is doing.”

—I see. Please let her in.

Roylen stepped aside.

Ashley thanked him and opened the door.

Oh...

The saintess's radiance struck her eyes.

It stung, but she could bear it.

So the Light of Heaven is real.

She tried to look at Rastain's face. However carefully she peered through the glare, she could see no higher than the region beneath her eyes.

Ashley lowered her gaze and took the edges of her skirt in a formal curtsy.

“This humble believer is honored to stand before the saintess. On behalf of House Pelgaroin, thank you for receiving me.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Ashley. I've heard of your kindness and have long thought well of you. Come, there's no need for such ceremony. Please sit.”

“You are most gracious.”

Ashley smiled and took the chair beside the bed.

The elf lay there in the morning light.

Even unconscious, she was painfully beautiful. Her pale features and shining silver hair seemed almost too carefully made to belong to a living person.

Ashley watched the slow rise and fall of her chest.

“Is she well?”

It was less a question of concern than one of confirmation.

Rastain appeared puzzled, but she nodded.

“The Quarantined Night treatment is complete. There is still the matter of mana exhaustion.”

“Mana exhaustion?”

“Her body has been drained of almost all its mana. It should recover naturally in about a week, but she'll need careful attention until then.”

The elf was almost powerless.

Something ugly stirred in Ashley's heart.

She kept it from her face.

“That's a relief. I was worried something terrible might have happened.”

“She needs rest until she wakes. There should be no cause for further alarm.”

Rastain rose, looking tired herself after the long treatment.

“I'll leave you now, Lady Ashley.”

“Could I stay a little longer?”

“Of course.”

Rastain did not ask why.

For an instant, Ashley had managed to look toward her face. Whatever troubled feelings the saintess had glimpsed, Rastain did not believe this young woman would act upon a wicked impulse.

She quietly left them alone.

The door closed.

Ashley stared at the sleeping elf.

After a long breath, she lifted her arms.

She bent forward and placed her trembling hands around the elf's slender neck.

The unfamiliar warmth of that skin frightened her.

If I squeeze, she'll die.

If I let this chance pass, I may never have another.

It would mean separating the elf from Theorad forever.

But her hands would not tighten.

Ashley could not bring herself to kill a defenseless person. Nor could she ignore the fact that Theorad had forgiven this elf.

“Why...?”

Why did you save him?

If you were willing to risk your life for him, why did you treat him so cruelly?

The contradiction would not leave her alone.

“I'm sorry...”

Even if Theorad has forgiven you, I can't.

Maybe I'll go on hating you. Whatever reasons you had, they won't erase the days you made him suffer.

Ashley slowly took her hands away from the elf's neck.

The elf continued sleeping, her breath faint and uneven. Silver hair lay across her pillow, and her face looked almost childishly peaceful.

An unexpected feeling of guilt rose in Ashley.

She could not tell whether she felt it for the elf, for Theorad, or for herself.

But one thing was undeniable.

The elf had risked her life to save him.

Ashley bit her lip, hesitated, then bowed her head.

“...Thank you.”

Sunlight fell through the window onto the two women.

“Thank you for saving Theorad.”

That was all she could manage.

Her feelings remained too tangled to bear. Ashley rose and went to the door.

Roylen opened it when he heard her approaching, and she stepped into the corridor, quietly wiping her eyes.

Her footsteps faded down the hall.

---

The elf did not wake until the afternoon.

“Ah...”

Her voice was hardly more than a breath.

She moved her fingers and blinked several times, slowly recognizing the room around her.

She was back in reality.

Everything looked blurred, as if a white mist lay across her eyes. She knew this was a consequence of mana exhaustion. With a few hours of rest, her sight should improve and her strength begin to return.

But she could not wait.

She pushed herself upright, silver hair spilling untidily over her shoulders.

“Theo...rad...”

Her voice was dry and weak.

He was not here.

She could still sense mana, however faintly, and searched for his familiar presence.

“Theorad... where are you?”

She wanted to see him in the real world, not within the maze of her own memories.

Nothing mattered to her more.

She swung her legs over the bedside and tried to stand.

Thud!

Her strength failed at once.

The elf fell from the bed, striking her shoulder on the floor. Pain drew a soft groan from her, and tears slipped down her cheeks.

Still, she did not give up.

She pressed her hands against the floor, forced herself onto her knees and rose unsteadily.

The room swayed around her.

“Theorad...”

One step.

Another.

It took her nearly five minutes just to get out of the sickroom.

Beyond it, the corridor seemed endless. Her vision was still clouded, but she could follow the faint trace of Theorad's mana.

She began walking.

Thud...!

She struck an ornament in the hallway and fell again.

For a time she could only lie there and groan. Then she hauled herself up and continued.

Servants passed and whispered at the sight of her. Some urged her to return to bed.

The elf paid them no attention.

“Theorad...”

She took another step.

Recognizing that she would not stop, the servants hurried away to summon the viscount.

The elf kept moving.

Each fall left another bruise. Nearly an hour had passed, and she felt no closer to reaching him.

“I miss you...”

Tears slipped from her blurred eyes.

Then the distant presence she had been following began to move rapidly toward her.

“Why wasn't I told at once? My maid is still a patient!”

“F-forgive us. We thought she'd recovered because the treatment was finished—”

“I didn't ask for excuses! Take me to her!”

The angry voice came from below, accompanied by quick footsteps.

The elf stopped.

People came around the corner. She could barely distinguish their faces, but she knew the one who had rushed there.

Theorad.

“You...!”

He stopped in front of her, his voice sharp.

“Why did you leave the sickroom? The treatment may be over, but you're still ill. Must a maid make her master worry like this?”

The words were harsh.

The warmth beneath them was unmistakable.

Overwhelmed, the elf reached both arms toward him.

“Master...”

Her lips trembled. There was no trace of her old mocking manner.

“I love you, Theorad...”