Page 28 of The Elven Healer's Apprentice

“Regardless,” he resumed, “my new stepfather acted as though the idea of raising another man’s son was beneath him. When he noticed me, he berated me. At meals, he only wanted to see my mother. The few times I appeared at the table, he ignored my existence. I preferred it that way. Because when he noticed me, bad things happened.”

I ached for the boy Merlon had been. Isolated from family, shunned by his stepfather, and having to fend for himself. All of it informed my understanding of the person I had worked with for the past months. No wonder he struggled to trust after growing up in those circumstances.

“More to the point,” Merlon continued. “When I turned fourteen, I grew too tall to be ignored. And when he discovered I hated wraithwalking and avoided it when I could, he attempted to cure me of the weakness.” Coming to an abrupt halt, he fisted his hands and took a deep, slow breath.

Instinctively reaching out, I cupped his nearest fist in my hands. “You don’t have to do this,” I told him as I caressed his whitened knuckles. I hadn’t realized how deep this pain rested.

“No.” He shook his head without meeting my gaze. “I need to.” Lifting his chin, Merlon straightened his shoulders. “He dragged me kicking and screaming into the shadow lands and left me there.”

“For how long?”

“Three days.” He shivered. “I always suspected he never intended to return for me. Another shadow elf found me and brought me home. Mother was livid. She tucked me into bed and waited for my stepfather to return.” His fist tightened, tendons straining beneath my fingers. “They fought. When my mother threatened to take me and leave, he threw her across the room. She fell headfirst into the hearth.”

A soft sob escaped my control. My heart broke for the boy he had been. I knew the pain of losing a beloved parent at the hands of a monster. I rested my fingers on his forearm to offer comfort, unsure if he would accept it. When Merlon broke free of his memory enough to see me again, his brows drew together in concern. He touched my cheek, wiping away tears I hadn’t even realized I had cried.

“It is in the past, Adela.” He studied my features with a slightly puzzled expression. “No need for tears.”

I shook my head, dropping my grip on his hand so I could wipe the moisture from my cheeks. “I understand. Hectorius—I refuse to call him Father—killed my mother. I was only six, the inconvenient product of his long obsession with my mother. If Hectorius could’ve had me killed and still had my mother, he would’ve.” A hard lump formed at the back of my throat. I forced a swallow around it. “When my mother refused to let him send me away, he lost his temper and knocked over a brazier of burning coals. Mother’s clothing caught fire. She died shortly after they doused the flames.”

“I am so sorry, Adela.” Merlon’s muscular arms enfolded me and drew me close. His hand cupped my head and guided it to rest against his shoulder. Leaning into the warm solidity of him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my face against his tunic’s front, and let the tears flow. This time, I cried not for myself but for the boy who had been left to survive his worst nightmare alone—who had lost so much so young and survived.

He murmured something intelligible in Elvish. “You aren’t alone anymore,” he murmured after. As his embrace tightened, mine did as well. It felt so good to be held. When had I last been hugged?

“For a long time, the servants either ignored me or pitied me.” I savored his warmth as my tense shoulder muscles eased. Something about being held made the memories less painful. “I became a healer, apprenticing with the local wise woman, to be helpful, to fit in and contribute in a way that would make them accept me. Then I discovered I enjoyed it.”

“Did it work?”

“In part. I was no longer shunned.”

Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply of his scent, a mixture of sun-warmed linen and the chamomile we had been using to calm Veta during the birthing. A languid, soothing heat settled into my limbs. If his arms hadn’t been supporting me, I might have sagged against him.

“Then Henri was born, and my world changed. His mother hated babies and hated what her body had become. She rejected Henri and refused to care for him. Suddenly, my life had a purpose. Someone weaker and smaller needed me. His needs became my world.”

Before I embarrassed myself by collapsing, I stepped back to gaze up into Merlon’s face. His hands dropped awkwardly to his sides, but his dark-blue gaze never wavered from my features. “Do you have any siblings?” I asked.

“Thankfully, I did not.” He grimaced. “I don’t know how I might’ve protected a younger sibling. I barely survived myself.” He motioned for us to keep walking.

I complied, falling into step beside him.

“Henri’s birth helped me. I had a focus for my efforts, someone to love who loved me back.” The familiar ache of loss settled beneath my breastbone. “I raised him.”

Merlon’s hand enclosed my shoulder with reassuring warmth and a pleasant, soothing sensation. “I am sorry I couldn’t save him.”

Shaking my head, I blinked back the burn in my eyes that threatened to become another rush of tears. “It wasn’t your fault. Hectorius killed Henri with his refusal to listen to sense. The blame lies with him and no other.” I groaned. “I hate crying.” Wiping my eyes for what seemed like the twentieth time, I blinked away the blurriness in my vision. “I don’t regret loving Henri. I am thankful I had the time with him that I did. We loved each other and grew together.” I smiled up at Merlon. “Because of him, I met you.”

“I met you first,” he replied with a completely impassive expression.

I stared at him for a brief second and then burst into laughter. The crusty healer had actually cracked a joke.

∞∞∞

Merlon

It was like the delightful sound of Adela’s laughter had broken a dam. Warmth flooded through me, and I was suddenly smiling.

The remaining hours of the morning and well into the afternoon passed like a dream. She told me about growing up and pestered me for tales from my childhood. No matter how I tried to put her off, she wouldn’t let me sidestep her questions.

Before long, I talked about hunting frogs in the creek near our home. Discovering my talent for healing when I healed my cousin Emrys’ leg after I went to live with them. The escapadesthe four of us young elves—Illeron, Casimir, Emrys, and myself—got into in those golden years. My life between the summer I was fifteen and when I turned twenty and apprenticed to the nation’s most renowned healer had been full of joy and a rediscovery of the sensation of being loved.

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