“I don’t understand. It’s been three months.”
“Yes, well, these things take time.”
“He was a dark elf! She should hate him! Why is she so upset?”
“He betrayed her love…”
Yes, betrayed. Iliva no longer spoke. Only thought. Thoughts of him.
“Iliva, darling,” he murmured, holding her close. She snuggled closer. “You’re so beautiful…” He kissed her.
“You’re so handsome,” Iliva murmured back between kisses. “And strong. So… powerful.” She felt him pull back a little. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Iliva knew she wasn’t. “If something was wrong, you would tell me, right?”
“Of course, my precious. There are no… no secrets between us.”
That slip. She’d thought nothing of it. She’d been a fool. Did he even love her? Had he ever? He probably was after her wealth and power. Probably… No, he’d never do that.
Tulomon Willenello had a good reason. He had to.
Lairan Rilness was worried about his daughter. Three months ago, on the eve of her wedding, it was discovered that her fiancée was a dark elf, and elf who had forsaken goodness and everything that was the center of elven society. Iliva hadn’t taken the news very well, which Lairan could understand, but she should be angry with Tulomon Willenello, hate him, not mope about as if she still loved him! She couldn’t still love him!
“Iliva, Darling, there’s someone here to see you,” he told her gently. She didn’t even look at him. She just stared off into space, as she always did. “You remember Elysian? She came by just to say hello. Wasn’t that nice?” Iliva didn’t know Elysian was a psychologist. Lairan didn’t want his daughter to know he thought she might be… ill. If his wife, Delaney, were still alive, she could talk to Iliva, but she had died over fifty years ago, of the plague, and Lairan was alone. Lairan had grieved for Delaney, but his wife hadn’t been a dark elf! So why was Iliva so upset?
“Lairan, could I speak to Iliva alone?” Elysian’s voice was surprisingly low, for an elf. Lairan nodded, and left the two alone. What would he do…?
Elysian surveyed the elven maiden before her. Lairan was wasting his time! In the month and a half Elysian had know her, Iliva had never given sign there was a mind and a soul behind those dull green eyes. Was this really Iliva Rilness, the charming elf maiden with the glowing chestnut hair, rosy skin, and laughing emerald eyes, who could twine men around her little finger as easily as breathing? Elysian was no longer certain Iliva had a soul; it was as if she’d had her mind wiped clean.
“Iliva, can you hear me?” No response. “Iliva, I know what happened, and it was horrible, but you must move on!” Silence. “Prince Eleverdo is holding a party. I hear you love parties. Do you want to go?” Nothing. Elysian could have been speaking to a tree.
Then something remarkable happened. Iliva spoke. Only a whisper, if that, but it was the first sign of life in how long?”
“You had a secret, Tulomon,” was all Iliva said, but it was a start, a chance of something, and Elysian took it.
“What secret, Iliva? What didn’t Tulomon tell you?” But the silence was back. Iliva’s body remained, but Iliva was not there.
Lairan listened to Elysian’s report. Iliva talking was good, but…
“What should I do?” His voice broke. “Is she beyond hope?”
“I don’t know,” the elf woman admitted, “but I have an idea. Send her to Prince Eleverdo’s party. Perhaps doing things she used to do… before, will help. If she’d talk about it, she could get it all out, and move on, but… Perhaps the servants will spark something.”
Lairan nodded. “Yes, I will do as you say.” Iliva would come back! She had to! She was all he had left!
Prince Eleverdo stifled a yawn. Stupid party. He hated the things. His father was determined to match him up with a young woman, and Eleverdo understood, but this was getting ridiculous! The only elf maiden he’d ever really fancied, Ilanaliva Rilness, had been engaged to a dark elf servant, and was now rumoured to be insane. Eleverdo hoped her insanity was not in any way linked to his choice in women; if all the women he liked cracked…
Speak of the Destroyer! There she was! Or at least, he thought it was her. Her hair wasn’t glossy, though, and she didn’t look rosy-pale, she looked sickly pale. And her eyes. There was no mind in that body. So why was she here?
“Your Highness, might I have a word?” It was Lairan, Iliva’s father, and one of Eleverdo’s father’s advisors.
“What is it?” Eleverdo asked, curious. This man had seen him grow up; he rarely referred to him as “Your Highness”. Only when it was important, or when Lairan wanted something extremely badly…
“It’s… my daughter. She’s not… feeling well. Could you… keep an eye on her? Elys… uh… A friend said being here might… help her.”
Of course! Doctor Elysian, the Court Psychologist, probably sent Iliva! If Iliva was insane because of that fiancée of hers, then maybe seeing servants would help. The dark elf had been a servant at parties like these.
“Of course, Lord Lairan. I will see to it she is happy.” Lairan looked relieved, but Eleverdo wondered if he would look that relieved if he knew there was more than one reason for Eleverdo’s decision. After all, escorting a beautiful woman around, with her father’s consent, couldn’t be that bad…
Eleverdo walked over to where Iliva was standing. When she was sane again, she doubtless would be very grateful to any man who helped her. Any man like Eleverdo.
“My lady,” he said, offering his arm. Now that he thought of it, even if she remained crazy, at least she would be a very compliant wife. Iliva hadn’t looked up, so Eleverdo gently saw to it she took his arm, and led her to where she could sit down. Perhaps later he could dance with her…
“My darling.” He kissed her. “I love you.” He kissed her again.
“Tulomon…” Another kiss.
“You’re so beautiful…”
“You’re so beautiful.” Words, spoken in elven, by a male…
“Tulomon?” she asked, her vision clearing, her eyes focussing.
It wasn’t Tulomon. It was someone else. Where was she? She was dancing…
It didn’t matter. Tulomon wasn’t here. Iliva returned to the Other Place, where the pain was dulled, and Tulomon was with her.
Eleverdo sighed. This wasn’t very easy. She’d spoken only once. He said something that her fiancée must have said, or something of the sort, because she said, “Tulomon?” Her dull eyes had shined for a moment. But it didn’t last. She was very pretty, but marrying her would be like being wedded to a statue. Forget compliant; compliant meant she would obey, and Iliva wouldn’t even move without being forced!
“How was she?” Lairan was back.
“She can still dance. And when I was speaking to her, she… came back. She said, “Tulomon.” Does that mean…?”
Lairan sighed. “I suppose she’s not going to… get better. I’ll just have to do what… what Elysian said.”
“Which is?”
Lairan looked sad. “Take her to live with Elysian.”
Despite the warm weather, Eleverdo shivered.
Despite the warm weather, Lairan shivered. Ophelia. The buildings that housed mentally unstable elves. Elves like Iliva.
A low fence, white marble, surrounded the place. It seemed to be so easy to get out of, but… If any patient tried to escape, which would be a first, they wouldn’t get far.
The buildings themselves were beautiful, carved in a way that pleased the eye. Between the building and the walls were beautiful gardens, shallow fountains, and marble benches. A few elves sat on these benches, staring at nothing.
Lairan gently led Iliva out of the carriage and down the path. The two were met at the door by a white-robed psychologist.
“Greeting, Lord Lairan, Lady Ilanaliva. If you will follow me, I will lead you to Ilanaliva’s chambers.”
Chambers. More than one room. That was good; Iliva was slightly claustrophobic, and would need the space. The psychologist- he said his name was Menrolen- said Iliva would have two attendants. They would see to her needs, like food, clothing, and exercise. That was also good.
They stopped only once. An elf was wandering, a little lost, but aware of his surroundings. Menrolen pointed the elf in the right direction, then led Lairan and Iliva to their destination.
“Why didn’t he have anyone with him?” Lairan asked, curious. If Iliva was taking help away from other elves…
“He suffers from memory loss. He remembers to eat and such, but he gets turned around sometimes. Don’t worry; he’ll be fine. He’s getting better, too.”
They soon reached Iliva’s chambers. A bedroom, washroom, sitting room, and private garden made a nice setting. If… when Iliva became aware of her surroundings, she would no doubt like the rooms.
When.
Menrolen sighed. Lord Lairan had finally left. Menrolen was anti-social, one of the reasons he chose to work here; the patients didn’t know he existed. Iliva was like all the others. As Elysian’s second-in-command, he was familiar with Iliva’s story, and the cause of her condition. A pity; she would be very pretty if she were sane.
But from what he knew, if she were sane, she would chatter incessantly, and Menrolen preferred this mindless silence. Besides, he didn’t particularly like women that way.
Iliva led Iliva into her garden. She could wait here for her attendants. Checking to make sure her eyes were the staring eyes of the insane- it was always best to check- Menrolen left the room. He had much to do, and Iliva would only be alone for a few minutes…
Iliva was doing something rare. She’s wasn’t remembering; she was thinking. Thinking of ways to reunite with Tulomon.
Their differences in faith were a deep chasm between them. But what if…?
She would do it. She had nothing to lose. Slowly, she became aware of the world.
Where was she? No matter, her father was no where in sight. Iliva stood up, and walked out of the garden, climbed over the pretty marble fence, and ran off into the forest.
Tulomon would end her silence.