Chapter One Hundred and Forty Six: Mistake after Mistake
Xaphile spent all of his time with Adariel over the next few days.
Near the end of the first, Vordt had once again enshrouded everyone with the illusions to mask their identities. But it wasn't exactly necessary since nobody really left to do much after Amelia ordered Adariel's new clothes, just an added precaution, to be safe.
Ella had taken to reading the books they'd brought along, Gus chose to mingle with others down at the tavern, Vrael had been using the calm streak to meditate and practice using his wind magic, and Vordt simply kept to himself in the farthest corner of the room.
His watchful eyes, for the most part, remained trained on Adariel and Xaphile.
Sinmir didn't waste a second of their time doing fruitless activities.
He exercised every single day for several hours at a time.
Push-ups of many varieties... the regular basic method, and then alternating one-armed push-ups, and even incredible-looking handstand push-ups. Xaphile was particularly amazed by the last one whenever he saw it since the rugged prince had perfect strength and balance.
Xaphile relished the calmness because it gave him time to reconnect with his little brother.
Each day was basically spent with Adariel sitting on his lap, or clinging to his arm, or sitting in the crook of his elbow. The child never left his side for more than thirty seconds, and even when he did, he never strayed a footstep beyond a meter.
Not that Xaphile minded, of course, since he was perfectly content to shower the kid with the eleven years of love he'd never been able to give back on earth, and then some.
During their time in the hotel room, he'd noticed that Adariel had put on a bit of much-needed weight, and his ashen skin had taken a less deathly pallor.
It was a change for the better.
The kid by no means at all looked healthy, but it was visibly better than the state he'd been in when he'd arrived, and best of all, with food and water in his system he was more animated.
It was primarily because of this that he realized just how adorable Adariel really was.
Each day, the child would eagerly tell him fantastical stories of when they'd been younger, memories from his life on Atlas that he still couldn't remember.
A lot of what he'd heard didn't sound like him at all, since he'd apparently been a very optimistic and happy-go-lucky person before waking up as his current self.
Even at his best, he had never been extroverted or cheerful, but Adariel seemed to really enjoy talking to him about everything they'd done together, and recounting those hidden memories made the kid's eyes sparkle with delight and fondness.
It was during these moments that Xaphile could tell there was truth to what Ella had said.
The kid adored him, perhaps even idolized him, and it was a high bar to overcome since he didn't want to be a disappointment and he didn't really know what to do in order to avoid being one. So, he began walking on eggshells, trying his hardest to be the awesome big brother Adariel remembered.
Forcing smiles, acting cheerful and optimistic even when he was worried, laughing a little.
It wasn't him, but his brother was in better spirits when he acted like that, so he kept it up.
Then came the evening of the fourth day, when Gus came back in from downstairs with a tired expression.
Everyone looked up when he sat down at the table with a sigh, green eyes tired.
"The little lad's clothes should be finished," he murmured. "If someone wants to go get them, I'd be much obliged. I'm inebriated and not thinking clearly, and yet I still think it's high time he changed out of that shirt and put some britches on."
"Human cloth?" Adariel asked, blinking like an owl. "I am to wear it?"
"Yeah," Xaphile said, running his claws through the kid's long hair. "You can't keep running around with my shirt on."
"Why?" Adariel asked, visibly confused. "I didn't think to ask, but why must we wear human cloth? We have always been only as we are, Big Brother. Why must we cover ourselves?"
Xaphile blinked, shocked, until he remembered that most faeries walked around nude. He wondered for a moment if he'd lived naked in the Nimikan forest his whole life.
It was a disconcerting thought, but it made sense.
He had, after all, been naked the first time he'd ever opened his eyes on Atlas.
"We're among a different culture now," he said softly, shrugging a little. "Humans and the other races wear clothes, and since people think it's improper to walk around naked, wearing clothes is something we just have to do. Plus, it'll help keep us safe from prying eyes."
Adariel nodded.
"So, who's going?" Gus asked, impatient. "The tailor's shop won't wait all day!"
"I'll go," Xaphile said, then turned and mussed up his brother's hair. "You wait here, okay?"
"Eh?!" Adariel asked, a look of panic flashing across his face. "B-but..."
"Shh," he soothed, setting a finger against his lips. "You're safe. Even if I'm out of your sight for a few moments, I'll come back, and I promise you with everything inside me that nothing can hurt you with my friends in this room. These people saved my life, multiple times, and they risked their own to help me save you. If your can't put your trust in them, trust me, okay?"
Adariel's lip quivered violently and fear washed over his features, but still, he nodded.
"You will come back," he said a little shakily, "r-right?"
"Of course!" Xaphile chuckled, smiling a little. "I promise!"
"In fact, I'll make sure he comes back," Vrael suddenly said, rising to his feet. "Don't worry, kiddo, I'll keep an eye or two on your brother for you!"
Adariel glanced at him, then nodded.
"C'mon," Xaphile said, turning and walking towards the door. "Let's go."
He didn't wait for anyone's permission to leave through the door, and Vrael trotted after him after saying something to everyone else in a low voice. When he caught up he patted Xaphile's shoulder, drawing his attention.
Vrael's hazel eyes were worried. It was still strange to see the illusion since he was so used to the silver hair, the long ears, and those unique reddish brown eyes with their greeny-gold iris rings.
Plus, blonde didn't really suit him somehow.
"Will he be all right?" Vrael asked. "He looked like he was going to cry when you walked out the door, Phil..."
"I know, but... realistically, I think letting him cling to me the way he's been will do more harm than good in the long run," Xaphile told him, sighing as he thought of what to do. Vrael took the lead when they made it to the stairs, so Xaphile followed without making a case out of it.
"How do you figure?" Vrael murmured. "I think letting him cling to you the way he's doing is perfectly fine when you consider what sort of things he's been through. He's at his most vulnerable right now... and it's only been a few days."
"True, but if you think about it, that might be dangerous, too," Xaphile admitted, working his jaw as he mulled over it. "I want him to know that I'm always here, and that I'll be close by if he ever really needs me, but at the same time I feel like..."
He trailed off, and Vrael glanced at him.
They walked across the tavern, and Xaphile absently waved at the inn owner behind the counter when he smirked at them, but for the most part he kept his eyes ahead of him, even when he walked outside.
The sun was setting behind the black stone buildings, but everything was bustling since people were bustling to and fro all over Atka, getting ready for the festival.
From decorations to raising shop stands, the city was animated, but it bothered him that the people doing the work were mistreated slaves. Ragged clothing draped the underfed bodies of many orcs and elves, and cruel people with whips stood at attention, keeping a watchful eye on everything.
Nobles walked past the sight without even seeing it, gossiping and chatting and having a merry old time.
It was sickening.
"Like... what?" Vrael suddenly said, making him jump. "Phil, come on."
"Huh?" Xaphile asked, blinking before he remembered. "Oh... yeah. Look, if he doesn't get used to other people and keeps clinging to me during what is probably the hardest time of his life, I'm afraid that he'll start needing me just to function properly. That... that's unhealthy, and it works against what's best for him, you know?"
"That's what you're worried about?" the halfling scoffed, gripping his arm and dragging him to a halt in the middle of the road. "Phil, knock those idiotic thoughts right out of your head! I could understand a concern like that if your brother were closer to your age, but he's even younger than my second brother, Windal! He's only eleven years old!"
"I know," Xaphile said softly, swallowing hard, "but I honestly... don't know what to do. I don't know what would be best for him, Vrael. I've never... I've never even babysat a kid before, let alone tried to raise and take care of one. That's why I'm anxious."
"Well, for now, instead of mulling over something like that," Vrael scolded, flicking the invisible part of Xaphile's long ear, "do your job as his brother and hold him close to you. He's a really well-behaved kid, okay? And right now, the one he needs most is you, since you are all he has."
Xaphile paused.
"No," he murmured, "he has Vordt and Zelphira, too, you know."
"Has your uncle made an attempt to even speak with him these last four days?" Vrael countered. "No, he hasn't. And since Zelphira is leagues away from us right now, she can't do anything for him, either. All he has is you."
Xaphile wanted to protest, but Vrael actually had a damn good point, and after thinking about it carefully he let loose a sigh.
"I'll take your advice then, if you think that's what I should do," he murmured. "Thanks."
"I'll be here if you need advice," Vrael said, face smoothing into a smirk. "You seem to have forgotten that I have two little brothers of my own, and honestly, Adariel seems pretty similar to Faeble in personality. He's very quiet and shy around strangers, but around family... he's a joy."
Xaphile felt his chest swell with something pleasant at Vrael's observation, but what that pleasant thing was, he didn't know.
Pride, maybe?
"Yeah," he agreed, smiling faintly. "He's a great kid, isn't he?"
They walked for another minute or so until Vrael turned, opening the door of a nearby building; Xaphile followed him in, staring with wide eyes at all the colorful dresses on display.
He saw gowns of every shape and variety, several strange hats from bonnets to top hats to weird bent caps with plumed feathers of many colors sticking out of them, and there were even several displays for men's clothes. Fashionable suits with tailcoats, old Victorian-style shirts with odd ruffles running from the neck to the belly, and many varieties of trousers.
The shop even displayed a wide range of cloaks, jewelry, corsets, and odd... giant bird cages?
No, he realized, those are... what goes under the skirt dresses, aren't they?!
It would explain how so many women had such bizarrely buoyant and over-sized butts, at least.
"Welcome!" a shrill voice called from somewhere in the back of the store. "Are you here to place an order or pick up an order?"
"Picking up," Vrael called back. "A girl with long brown hair, blue eyes, and spectacles came in here the other day and placed an order for some clothing? We're picking it up for her."
"Aha! I see!" the shrill voice called. "We just finished those clothes this morning! Wait one moment, please!"
Xaphile rocked on his heels, looking around, taking in the marvels the store had to offer until a short, stout woman with round glasses and a messy gray bun piled on top of her head waddled into view with an armload of wrapped parcels. She beamed at the two of them.
"We heard that the little boy these clothes were ordered for is recovering from some sort of terrible ordeal, and that he supposedly has nothing to his name, even a shirt," the woman said casually, passing the pants to Xaphile. "Is this true?"
Xaphile closed his eyes, ears drooping and tail going limp for a moment.
Even if they couldn't see it, he could still feel it.
"Yeah," he admitted, shaking his head. "He... he has nothing material. Until today, he's been wearing one of my shirts, and nothing else."
The woman's eyes widened.
Then those old blue eyes softened in sympathy and she gave him a smile.
"Well, forgive the context of my words, but that's very good to hear," she sighed, making Xaphile freeze and stare at her in shock. "I've had customers come in before to order clothing and they often tell me such extravagant, woeful tales in the hopes of getting a bargain out of it."
Distaste flooded through him.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," he said slowly, uttering a low growl that alarmed Vrael; he cut the sound off before it could grow when the halfling snatched his arm. "You think that his suffering is a good thing? Is that what you're implying?"
"Oh, heavens no!" the woman gasped, looking mortified. "I'm not so callous! It's just, I've heard many a tale since I opened my shop, because we have a policy to give much, much extra to those in times of struggle and great need. I am simply relieved, is all."
"Relieved, why?" Vrael asked, perplexed.
"Because the girl who came in here," the woman sighed, patting her wrinkled cheek, "she gave off a different feeling when she spoke about the recovering child. It's been quite a long time since I've seen someone's eyes look that troubled and unhappy."
"We've been through a lot," Xaphile said coldly. "All of us. That child you're talking about is my little brother, who was kidnapped by nasty people. They did terrible things to him. All of us are seeing the aftereffects as a result, so it's no wonder that Amelia was troubled and unhappy."
The old woman looked startled, blinking like an owl behind her glasses.
"Well, that would explain it," she said, coming down from her surprise. "Most of the nobles who come in here have a distasteful look in their eyes when they tell me their dramatic stories of woe... and yet, somehow, nearly all of them come in wearing finery and jewels. That girl, on the other hand... Amelia, you said her name was?"
"Yes," Vrael agreed, nodding with a grin. "Her name is Amelia."
"Well, your Amelia was very reluctant to go into detail, and the very subject of the child made her uncomfortable," the old woman sniffed. "That is why I believe she was being honest, and that is why, I have added fourteen extra pieces of clothing for when he grows a bit older. He'll have to wait until he fills the extra trousers in to wear them, but I've included two belts."
Xaphile gawked, startled.
"Wow," Vrael said, blinking rapidly. "Thank you!"
"Not at all," the woman sighed, smiling at them. "You are staying for the festival, are you not?"
"Uh, yeah, we are," Xaphile admitted.
"Well, if that's the case," the woman said sweetly, inclining her head, "won't you stop by tomorrow with your Amelia and the recovering child in tow? I would really like to wish both of them well, and I can't deny I'd like to see how dashing my stitching makes him look!"
Xaphile stared at her for a long moment.
Then, he sighed, closing his eyes with a nod.
"I'll try," he said softly. "Thank you for doing what you've done."
"Not at all," the woman laughed, waving at them. "The clothing was paid for when it was ordered, so you may leave now. Have a wonderful day!"
The two of them turned and left the tailoring store behind, walking out into the street, but as they headed back to the Alvatorian Inn, Xaphile glanced down at the clothing.
"Here's hoping Adariel likes his new clothes," he said, grinning in simple excitement as he hefted the cloth-bound parcels . "If he's anything like me, he'll like his shirts baggy, but I'm sure he'll-"
"You seem really happy."
He stopped short, looking up at Vrael in puzzlement. He had gone a little red across the cheeks and was scratching his nose, body language betraying how awkward he felt in saying that, but his eyes were... well, they seemed happy, too.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Xaphile asked him, letting loose a sigh. "My little brother is alive and well, and even better, he adores me! I never knew having a sibling could be this awesome, and-"
"That's not what I meant," Vrael interjected; he didn't meet Xaphile's eyes and went right on blushing. "I meant, even before we went to rescue him, you seemed happier than normal."
"How... so?"
"Well, for one thing, you frown a lot, Phil, but on the day you were getting Ella ready to go to the ball you were... well, smiling."
When Xaphile made no move to respond because what was he getting at?, he glanced at the sky, swallowed, and leaned close so he could whisper, "you also followed Ella downstairs last night, too, and when you came back you felt... very different... so I just assumed..."
His words stopped Xaphile in his tracks. Heat rose in his neck and ears as he mimicked Vrael and began to blush, trying not to think about what had happened between him and Ella in the tavern because oh wow, that memory was enough to reduce him to a stuttering mess.
"W-well, I, um," Xaphile stammered, and he put a hand over his face. "It's... um... oh man, I don't know what to tell you!"
Vrael snorted, straightening up with a pleased smile.
"If you're this awkward about it, it must have been really nice," he teased, poking him in the ribs.
"Oh shut up," Xaphile snapped, tossing a weak kick at his leg . "We just... well, we just talked and..."
Hazel eyes glittered above his grin, twin crescents of thin, expressive mirth.
"And that small bite mark on Ella's lower lip is from, what, cutting herself?" he teased further, poking Xaphile again.
"You... you know?" he asked numbly, mouth dropping wide. "But, but who told--"
"No one told me anything, Phil," he said, smile fading. "You kissed her last night, didn't you? And... it wasn't the first time, was it? You did the same thing before we rescued Adariel, when she went into the bathroom, didn't you?"
Xaphile's face flamed.
"Y-yeah," he mumbled. "I did. Things are... things are starting to change between us."
"Is that all that happened?" Vrael wanted to know. "Just, you know, kissing?"
Xaphile shook his head and decided to confide in him.
"No, we talked about things, too, and I think... well, I think we're in a good place," his lips curled in a reflexive smile. "We fought a little... well, a lot. But she convinced me of a few things and I feel like I let her in a little bit, so... we're good, I guess?"
"Really?"
"Yeah," Xaphile muttered. "We're not in a relationship... neither of us are ready for one, but... but I can't deny that... she... makes me feel something that... I don't want to look at too hard, because... I'm still afraid of it."
"I see..."
"We're going to take it slow," he sighed, shaking his head. "I've begun to feel for her... I admit it, okay? But we both decided that was the best thing."
Vrael looked happy for him, but then his face fell. Serious eyes blinked a few times before he said, "Can I be honest with you?"
"Of course."
"I'm jealous."
The remark came out of left field and struck Xaphile dumb.
"Jealous?" he repeated. "Jealous of what?"
"Of you and the countess," he clarified, eyes growing distant. "I fancy Amelia, Phil."
Xaphile blinked... then relaxed.
"I see," he murmured.
"Do you?" Vrael heaved a sigh. "I haven't even so much as spoken to her without strain between us. I don't even have her and yet I feel like I'm losing her. It is unpleasant."
Xaphile's heart all but broke at his desolate, raw tone.
"Dude, how long have you been crushing on her?" he asked. "And why didn't you say anything before?"
"Well, how could I?" Vrael asked, pausing and facing him. "She's terrified of people finding out that she's a halfling. She wouldn't even tell the people that mattered most, and yet, back in Calcoon, right after I saved her from Bonks, I pushed her too hard and made her cry."
"You pushed her?!" Xaphile scoffed, eyes widening. "Dude! Never put your hands on a---"
"Not that kind of pushing!" Vrael squawked, irritated. "Pushing as in I forced her to tell me the truth about her feelings! She's always smiling, and it bothers me, because she's not smiling on the inside, ever! She hides her feelings! How can I ever get close to someone so closed off?"
"That's a good question," Xaphile said carefully. "I honestly don't know the answer, man. I've never been good with understanding the way girls think, and that's probably why I was so unpopular with most girls back on Earth. Sorry."
Silence fell for a long time after that.
They made their way inside the inn and walked back towards the stairs.
On the top floor, however, Vrael paused.
"It's nothing worth apologizing for," he said gently. "It's just that we've never... you know. Had a chance talk for real before. She doesn't open up to me the way she does with you, Gus, Ella, and on occasion, Sinmir, so hearing that you're doing good with the countess of all people..."
"Communication is the key to a relationship," Xaphile said, quoting just about every love guru ever.
"Yeah, I know," Vrael said; sadness turned to frustration. "It's just that I know my feelings for her are one-sided. And they will probably be one-sided for a long time. Sinmir figured it out a while back and tried to nudge me forward, but for someone so good at spotting things, it boggles me that he can't see that Amelia doesn't think of me the same way I've started to think of her."
He mopped a hand over his face and grimaced, trailing off and pressing his fingers to his eyes. When they dropped to his side and he looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, Xaphile could see his eyes shining with something more than emotion.
"You like her?" he asked in a quiet voice. "You seriously like Amelia?"
Vrael nodded.
"She loves someone else though." His voice came thickly, like he was having trouble speaking, and he swallowed, though it obviously took a lot of effort. "She's blocked off to me completely because of that, and it really just isn't a nice feeling. Not at all."
"Well, if you ask me, I think," Xaphile said slowly, "that the two of you should talk. Not about your relationship or anything... just talk the way you used to when you first met, about magic and stuff. Or maybe about her interests, or something else."
"You think?"
Xaphile smiled at his expression, one of budding hope mixed with deep-rooted melancholy.
"Yeah! In fact, maybe get up early when she's making breakfast and help her with it," he suggested. "She'd seriously appreciate it and you'd have a chance to connect with her."
"Yeah," Vrael said, though his heart wasn't really in it. "I'll try to do that." He let out a growl of malcontent. "It's just, Phil, I try to talk to her and she just smiles and walks away like I'm--"
A muffled shout from down the hall.
"Adariel, stop!" a shrill voice, decidedly Amelia's, shrieked. "Stop, put that down!"
"Amelia!" Ella barked. "Go find Xaphile and Vrael! Right now!"
"O-okay!"
Vrael and Xaphile both jumped, heads whipping toward their door, when Amelia burst out of it and came sprinting down the hall. Vrael's sadness vanished when he trotted over to her, taking her shoulders in his hands.
"Amelia, we're right here here," he said. "What's wrong?"
Seeing them together made Xaphile happy, and his happiness only grew when Amelia gripped his hands and squeezed, seeking strength from him even though she looked at him with panicked eyes. There was a cut on her cheek that dripped blood, alarming him.
"It's Adariel!" she said, on the verge of crying for whatever reason. "He's gone mad!"
Xaphile's stomach lurched.
"Shit," he cursed, dropping the clothes into Amelia's shaking arms as he strode past them; he heard Vrael murmuring comforts to her as he went down the hall at top speed, and when he got to their room, he threw the door open with resolve made of steel.
And it was steel he needed when he saw what was going on.
His little brother had taken one of Ella's daggers.
He held it in both hands and had backed himself into the corner; the others were gathered around him in a semi-circle, wary and tense as he eyed them with similar, but more palpable emotions etched all over his gaunt face. Ella was holding her arm, blood staining her fingers.
"Adariel, just put down the knife and be reasonable," Gus was saying in a soothing voice, slowly advancing on the little boy with his hands held out in an earnest plea. "It was only a simple pat on the head... there's no need to get violent."
Adariel, however, just looked at him in terrified, angry suspicion and jerked.
Gus jumped back, hissing in irritation.
"Vordt, stop him!" he snapped. "He's your nephew, and this is dangerous!"
"I'm rather enjoying the show, honestly," the faery snorted, still sitting against the wall. "It was your fault for touching his hair. Doing so was an insult of the worst sort. Deal with the repercussions yourself."
"Enough," Xaphile growled; everyone turned toward him in a snap of surprised motion; Gus was the only one who glared. "Adariel, what are you doing?"
Adariel looked past everyone at the sound of his name.
"Big Brother!" he cried, relieved. "You've returned!"
"Welcome back, Phil," Ella said in a tone that suggested she was totally unamused. "Care to help us manage this situation?"
"I thought you said they were nice!" Adariel shouted. "Big brother, are you sure?!"
"They are nice," he assured him; then he looked at Gus. "What happened?"
"Things were going well and we were all getting along until I mussed up his hair," the blonde man growled. "He turned on us in a flash, and when Ella tried to calm him down, he gouged her arm and stole one of her daggers right out of its sheathe. Talk some sense into him!"
"Someone touching my hair without permission makes even me angry on instinct," Xaphile noted, making everyone pause. "I can control my anger because it's irrational to me, but for him? He's just a kid, so he probably doesn't know how to reign himself in... not to mention, all of you are still basically just strangers. I apologize for his behavior. He's just freaked out, that's all."
"Freaked out?! He's gone nuts!" Gus spluttered, bounding across the room to stare down into his face. "What in the world is wrong with you? He attacked Ella and pulled out her knife and-"
"And I take full responsibility," Xaphile said, and he pushed past to head toward Adariel.
The hand with the knife in it dropped to the little boy's side, but Xaphile stopped a few feet away and held out his left hand, palm up.
"Give that here, now," he growled with a 'come here' twitch of his fingers.
Adariel shook his head and opened his mouth to reply.
"Ah!" Xaphile barked, cutting him off before he could speak. When he tried again he said, "nope!"
"Big-"
"Ah-ah!"
"Just-"
"Nope!"
"Hey-"
"Lame-asses-say-what?"
His brow furrowed. "What?"
"Exactly." Xaphile wiggled his fingers again. "Now gimme the knife. You're scaring the tourists."
He was dealing with Adariel the same way Connie Richardson had occasionally dealt with Ella when they'd been kids: if there was one thing he remembered from watching her, it was that consistent eye contact, insistent body language, and a commanding tone could get a kid to listen in ways that no pleading or sweet-talking ever could.
Thank you for being an awesome Mom, Connie, he silently told her. You're still the best.
After a minute of intense staring, Adariel slowly raised his trembling hand and extended it toward him, turning the blade so Xaphile could take it by the hilt. The kid's pink lips pudged into a pathetic pout when he grabbed the thing and passed it behind his back.
Someone took it; he didn't see who.
Moving forward, he pulled Adariel against his chest, holding him tightly.
"What were you thinking?" he murmured, rubbing the back of his head. "Adariel, I get it, having a stranger touch your hair is a terrible offense, but they're not used to such things."
"B-but, Big Brother, it's blasphemy, isn't it?!" he squeaked. "You say they're nice, but... why would they do such a thing?!"
"Because they either didn't know or forgot that we aren't like them," Xaphile said, then pulled back and fixed a disappointed expression on him. "You hurt Ella, Adariel... I don't even know how bad, but you can't do things like that. You need to apologize to her."
"B-but---"
"No 'buts'," he said more firmly, hardening his eyes. "Without them, I wouldn't have been able to save you, and that girl you clawed... if you haven't forgotten, she carried you to safety at the cost of her own health. She wasn't even the one who touched your hair! You need to apologize."
Adariel blinked, instantly looking extremely guilty and he swallowed, mouth quivering, before nodding.
He turned, then, and hastened over to Ella, fists clenched.
"I... I'm sorry," he said, swallowing hard when she blinked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry... I... lost my temper. I... won't do it again, I promise."
Ella's face softened slightly and she inclined her head.
"You're forgiven," she said simply, "but your brother is right... I understand that the ways of the fae are different than ours, but most of us are ignorant of that. I apologize on Gus's behalf, but I hope in the future you'll be more conscious that we're ignorant of certain things and tell us when we've done wrong instead of attacking us."
Adariel's eyes shone and he looked like he was going to cry for a second, but instead he swallowed and bit his lip.
"Are you okay?" he tentatively asked. "Your arm..."
"I'll be fine," Ella snorted, rolling her eyes. "Your claws are sharp, but your brother's are sharper. Trust me, I know that from personal experience."
Adariel looked confused, but when she rubbed the back of her neck, Xaphile suddenly remembered their conversation about his actions after he'd been attacked by Sioh and his face started flaming. He'd almost forgotten that he'd lost control while he'd been out of it.
"Well, now that we've taken care of that," Sinmir said slowly, "let's have Amelia or Vrael heal your arm."
"Indeed," Ella said, wincing as she walked over to her bed and sat down. "I don't like pain."
"The bleeding has me worried, so you should get it patched up right now," Sinmir said, stepping off to the side; he opened his mouth to say something but tripped over one of their bags. Xaphile looked up when he swung his arms out towards the only thing in reach, a wooden beam jutting from the ceiling that ran across the entire length of the room above him.
The prince used it to attempt keeping his balance, but the force of his weight caused the bolts holding the wooden beam in place to bend. Xaphile jumped when the clasps screeched, eyes widening since it was only then that he realized both he and Adariel were sitting beneath it.
Ella lunged upright just as the beam snapped and swung down.
"MOVE YOU FOOLS!" she bellowed, shoving both of them out of the way. "DAMN IT!"
There was no time to react; the wooden bar whacked her right in the face and knocked her backwards a few steps. Xaphile felt a smashing pain sear through his face around the same moment that she clutched her head with both hands.
Everyone gasped and Sinmir looked mortified.
"Are you all right?!" he croaked. "Gods, Ella, I'm so sorry!"
"I'm... fine," she eventually said, lowering her hands and looking at him with a straight face. "Whoever left their bag on the floor is at fault, and... I guess I got lucky. That didn't hurt much."
Xaphile's face twitched since she was definitely lying, and she obviously knew he was aware of it if the quick glance she shot his way was any indication. His eyes narrowed, but he decided to confront her about what had just happened a little bit later.
For now he would simply focus on taking care of everything else.