Gesine covers the girl with a skin. “She will get a good night’s rest and be hungry in the morning.”
“As should you both. We will be breaking camp before dawn.” Elisaf ducks back out with a bow, fixing the flaps behind him.
Gesine’s gaze lingers on the now-empty space. “He is fiercely loyal to you.”
“No, he’s loyal to Zander. He can’t help it. It’s how he was made.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “You mean to say the king is his maker? I didn’t think that was allowed.”
“It’s not, and it’s a long story. And a secret I’m not supposed to share,” I mock whisper. A part of me regrets saying anything, but keeping it no longer seems necessary in the grand scheme of things. Zander’s father isn’t here to punish him.
“Hmm. Well, maker or not, he is also loyal to you. There may be a day when he has to choose. I cannot say which way his compass will point, but regardless, in a world of enemies, you will need as many allies as you can find.” She sets to fixing herself a slice of buttered bread and devouring it.
But my mind is still too busy to allow myself a moment to eat. I study the ring that sits in my palm. I’ve had these affinities all along, and I had no idea. “Do I need to wear this anymore, now that I have a handle on it?”
She laughs through a mouthful, and it’s a pleasant sound. “You have not begun to understand the destruction you can cause if you are not careful. Uncontrolled affinities mixed with surges of emotion often prove detrimental, and right now, given all that has transpired with the king?” She gives me a knowing look.
“You’re not wrong,” I admit. Will I ever have that same aura of calm as Gesine and Wendeline? I don’t see it happening anytime soon.
Her thoughts seem to drift as she chews. “Consider it a gift from the caster who sent you here, a way for you to protect yourself and others, and also a way for you to adjust to this new body.”
“I wish I had my old body,” I say around a bit of buttered bread.
“May I see it for a moment?”
I slip the ring into her waiting palm and watch her study it intently for long minutes.
“Interesting.” She hands it back. “It is as I thought. The ring holds a powerful illusion spell to trick you into believing you are still you, a human with no feel for her affinities. But this elven version of you is not human. I think you may come to find your stronger senses an asset once you have the time to explore them. They aren’t as strong as these Islorian cousins of yours, but stronger than humans, nonetheless. Until then, wear it. It helps you channel your elven affinity.”
“But I’ll be able to do that without the ring, too?”
“Yes. Sooner than your caster affinities. It is far easier to draw from what already exists than to create something wholly new.” She holds out her hand and a bubble of water appears on her palm, like a perfectly formed marble.
My mouth hangs with amazement.
“There are so many things you will be able to do, eventually, Romeria.” She smiles. “You will be limited only by the boundaries of your imagination.”
“Will I be able to heal people?”
“With your affinity to Aoife, yes, you should be capable of that one day. It requires much practice, though. I will, however, commend you. You are already growing in skill. Only yesterday, you threw that vile keeper into the pile of horse dung.”
“Slapped him into horse dung.” I purse my lips. It feels wrong to laugh, given how we left him in the square.
“With water shaped in your hand.” She points toward my clasped palms. “You pictured slapping him and made it so, did you not? That shows controlled intention, which is the cornerstone for wielding any affinity.”
I smile, her compliment bolstering my confidence.
“Tomorrow, we can practice more. But for now, we must rest. Fates know how many arses I’ll need to mend before the day is through.” Dusting the crumbs off her lap, she reaches for a skin. Balling it up, she lies down and tucks it beneath her head.
I blow out the lantern and lie down, expecting to watch the tent’s ceiling for hours.
I drift off in peaceful sleep.