Chapter 3 – Ferran

What has happened? Where is this pain coming from? How much time is passing? It feels as though a thousand years have passed, as though I've been falling, falling, falling forever… Is this a dream, or are these memories? Am I alive, or am I dead? Is this what it feels like to be dead?

Maybe it was all a nightmare. Maybe I will wake up, and open my eyes to find myself back home, back in my room in the palace, the birds singing outside, the maid humming as she cleans the windows, and my Lady Stepmother shouting at something again. And I know I will be happy even to listen to her yelling, for I will know: it was all a dream. I never left. My Lord Father never sent me to the army. I never had to see the brawling mass of rioting humans run at my battalion, wielding sticks and stones, their eyes wide and wild with hate and hunger.

It was all not real. It was all a dream. I will go outside and meet Anaia in the garden, just like on every other morning, and I'll hold her hand and kiss her lips and promise once again that, once my Lord father manages to haggle down her bridesprice to something more acceptable to him or simply gives in, and as soon as she feels ready to go through the terrible marriage ceremony, we will be together forever.

But how can it have been only a nightmare? This pain is too real. The memory of that last moment is too clear, that moment when the man ran at me with his dirty face and foul breath, crying out in a hoarse voice, "Freedom!" That was the last thing I remember hearing before falling into this emptiness that is nothing and everything at the same time…

Someone is holding a cracked cup of liquid to my dry lips. It tastes vaguely like water, but water mixed with so much sediment that the taste reminds me of the smell of wet mud. This must be another nightmare… no one in his right mind would make anyone drink something like this.

My sight is blurry; I can't recognise the face above me. But I see a pair of beautiful eyes looking down at me, as full of love as only one pair of eyes can be. "Anaia," I whisper, and my heart is suddenly happier than it has been for months. She has come to find me… she has come to me in this dream, and I never want this dream to end.

I wish I could tell her that I love her, that I miss her, that I'll come back soon – or that I'll try, at the very least. But I can't say a word, only silently lie here as the pain returns and darkness creeps over me once more…

Ruhan

It's strange. I find it much easier to do all my chores now. Because I know that all I do will benefit him in the end. I find it much easier to do things Mummy doesn't ask me to do. Because I know that it gives me an opportunity to help him. To spend time with him.

I sit by his bedside, on a stool Mummy found for me, and give him a drink every now and then, or dab the beads of sweat from his forehead when he is feverish. Sometimes he opens his eyes. Sometimes he mutters things I don't understand. Sometimes he whispers a name I don't know.

During the day, I do what I can to keep everyone happy, and to be close to him. I'm not scared of the other children anymore. They can throw mud at me as much as they like. I have an Elvish soldier living in my house. I just have to tell them so, and they'll be too scared to come near me. They don't have to know that he's wounded. They won't even want to know, they'll be too scared to find out.

In the night, I pretend to sleep until all the grown-ups are in bed too. No one has noticed me so far, reading to him in the moonlight. I only fell asleep once, and woke up beside him, the book luckily on the floor where no one could see it. I feel happy just watching him, and imagining the impossible… It doesn't matter whether it is impossible. I don't need to think about real life for now. I want to blot out real life for a while, be just me and him, and of course the books.

I've already found three others. I never thought before that I could find so many. But the box is full of them, and every time I go to the rubbish dump, I bring back more. They're about the past, about women who fought for themselves and stood up for themselves, and they're about so many other things that no one even remembers nowadays. I'm sure I could shock those silly neighbour children quite a bit with all I've learnt by now. Even though I've had to make quite a bit up myself because there's a few pages missing in most of the books.

The people I read about have such different lives. Some of them live like the elves do. But what I like about reading is that every time I open a book, I can imagine that I am them. That I'm not sitting on a stool full of woodlice, but in a big beautiful house. That my dress doesn't have holes in it but is silky and smooth. Of course, my favourite characters like to get muddy too. They like the wind in their hair too. They like to be free too. Just like me.

When he'll wake up, I want my Elvish soldier to like my house, even though it is so small and made of old bits of rubbish. I bring home flowers every day to put beside his bed, on the table, in the kitchen corner, everywhere I find a space. I've always done that, but now more than ever, so that everyone is surprised.

"Are you trying to move the garden into the house?" Great-Grandmama sometimes exclaims jokingly when I come home with big bunches of all colours and sizes. "It already smells pretty much like a greenhouse in here!" They all don't notice. Or if they do, they just make fun, say I'm cute – especially the aunties. But I know that he would understand me so much better than the aunties do. I'm sure of it.

Though sometimes I'm scared. Sometimes I don't want him to wake up, just so that this can go on for a little longer. Sometimes my mind does yell at my heart that this will never work. That he'll never feel this way for me. That he'll never see me as more than a dirty half-elf. That maybe he'll pretend that I don't exist, like all the elves do that I see every day in the city. But for now, I don't want to think about that. I want to live like this for as long as I can, relish in every moment before it's gone… and keep on believing that it never will be gone…

Ferran

"Well, my son, to take the crown you have to at least be capable of defending it!"

I have seen this scene so often already – I no longer know whether it really happened or whether it's just another nightmare hunting me down.

I see myself in the throne room, standing before my Lord Father, as though looking from a great distance. He is looking at me, grinning, his hands on his chubby knees. We are all alone; outside, the sun is setting, its last golden rays falling into the long room through tall windows.

"Not that the Empire is in much danger, really," my Lord Father remarks, laughing. "But you know, the ladies do like men with armour and medals better! It'll make life so much easier for you – and for me. My own son to take the throne one day, and you've never even been to the outer reaches of our Empire! No wonder there aren't crowds and crowds of ladies around you!"

I glare straight at him, at the father I used to love, who taught me to ride, who taught me the basics in fighting and told me about how our people conquered what is now known as the Empire of Elves; the same man who cheated on my mother, as he cheated on all his wives, and who flirted with other women over her grave on the same day she was buried. "I have told you already, I know exactly who I'm going to marry," I say.

He only laughs. "Hah, that little skinny thing? Well, she'd be all right for a mistress, but you need something more substantial for a wife. She isn't the childbearing type, Ferran, and I definitely can't see her giving the servants what they need. I'm not paying six thousand for her!"

"I love her, does that say anything to you?"

"Love?" he raises an eyebrow and changes to a more comfortable position on his golden throne. This is his favourite subject. "What do you know about love? You don't need love in a marriage; look at your half-sisters!"

I know it won't be of any use to point out how much they're all suffering. He closes his ears to what he doesn't want to hear.

"Now, when I first married…" And he goes off rambling again, telling me all about the things I never even want to know. He doesn't even feel ashamed about having cheated on every single one of his wives – and every single one of his mistresses too, for that matter. I can't imagine ever cheating on Anaia.

"I told you, she can be your mistress! As your wife, all she'll do is lead the household, shout at the servants, give you children, look pretty at balls…"

"You can't change my mind, Lord Father," I say quietly.

He shrugs. "Think what you like. I can guarantee you, after one year with the army, you'll have totally changed your mind about her! There's lots of women with the army, see. Met my first mistress there, pretty creature…"

I want to turn around and leave – I hate it when he starts to talk like this, and he doesn't even notice that I don't want to hear. But I have to stay; I can only go with his permission.

"Anyhow," he says, finally returning to the subject, "you'll have to start training next week. They actually need someone capable down on Earth, you know – problematic, very problematic, they're having quite some trouble with the humans; must be because we only left a lousy bunch of inexperienced soldiers down there. I want you to gain some experience, else how can I call you my son and not be ashamed? Every capable man has to know how to fight a war. And by that I mean a real thing, not just sword practice in the garden!"

Maybe I could have said something after that. Maybe I could have asked whether I could get married first, before going all the way to Earth and risking my life there for nothing but face. But I left without a word.

There are flowers beside my bed. They look different from those in the Capital – somehow paler, weaker, but nonetheless beautiful. I wonder who brought them for me. I wonder where I am. I wonder what place of punishment this is, being friendly enough for heaven but too uncomfortable and ugly. The gods must have deemed me good enough to enter third or fourth heaven, even though I thought so much about deserting the army.

I turn around. The light is so bright after all my time in the sea of darkness. I see a girl, golden-brown hair falling to her shoulders, some strands covering her eyes. The light surrounds her like a powerful force, as though it is emanating from her. Maybe she is a spirit from the other side; maybe she is the one who brought me here.

Suddenly, she looks up. I notice smudges of mud on her cheeks and some streaks of dirt in her hair. Her wild green eyes cross me once. Then her cheeks become a deep shade of red and before I know it, she's gone.

Ruhan

"He's awake!" I exclaim as soon as I reach the kitchen corner. "He's awake, look, quick!"

Mummy quickly rushes over, the aunties hurrying after her, all in giggles as usual. I don't know why, but suddenly I'm scared to go close to him. I'm scared to displease him. I wipe my hand over my face and notice I had mud on it. Did he notice it? Did he see? And I haven't brushed my hair in ages… I don't want him to notice me. I don't want him to look at me too long or he'll find a fault or three. I don't want him to ignore me. I'd rather stay away from him than be ignored. I'd rather pretend myself I don't exist than let him pretend I don't.

I watch quietly as Mummy tries to explain to him his situation. "No, you're alive," she's saying in Elvish. "My husband found you about two weeks ago, wounded. We have taken care of you since."

As I expected, he doesn't look all too happy to be in a human house, but I can see that he's surprised at the weird mix we all are, rather than just being disgusted that most of us are human. Moses has clambered onto the bed and is staring at him – even though he's got two human ears, there is that elf look about him that I'm sure the soldier has noticed. And maybe he saw my ears. And aunty Saaiwen. And he must be wondering how Mummy can speak such accurate Elvish, since humans aren't actually allowed to learn it.

But he's tired. He doesn't look like he wants to deal with this right now. He's too tired to think on it properly, to try and get away from us or maybe to even properly realise what this is all about. He looks like he knows that it's real though, and not a dream.

Just then, Papa comes in too, back from his tutoring work at the palace. "Papa! Papa, he's awake!" I exclaim, rushing towards him. "He woke up just now! Look!"

Papa joins the group surrounding my Elvish soldier, and sends the two gigglers away. Mummy comes back to the kitchen corner too, looking glad to be doing her normal work again instead of trying to make a good impression on someone who's bound not to want to understand. I know how she must be feeling. I know it exactly.