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“Rayla? Are you still awake?”
Callum is searching for Rayla just outside their campsite, stumbling through thickets lit only by the pale moonlight. They’d made camp for the night after a long day of sailing. Rayla had volunteered to keep watch while Ezran and Callum slept, despite Callum’s protests. He could see how tired she looked—her face pale and gaunt—and insisted on taking her place. Rayla refused: I appreciate your concern, Callum, but these woods are dangerous, and you need to rest.
Callum knew nothing he said could change her mind. That’s one thing he learned about her during their long voyage to Xadia. Rayla felt a strong sense of duty to return the dragon egg to its home, and with duty came the responsibility to make big decisions during their journey. Most of these decisions, Callum felt, involved bossing him and Ezran around. It’s for your own good, she said one day. Growing up in a castle won’t help you survive the wilderness! I will. So follow me, and I’ll make sure you don’t get eaten alive by wolves.
As thick-skinned as she was, though, Callum began to see cracks in her armor. Earlier during their boat ride, she looked sickly and in pain; her bruised hand—the one with the mysterious binding—hung limply over her lap while she gripped the side of the boat with her other hand to steady herself. She cringed each time a strong wave threatened to flip the boat over, her eyes shut tight and mouth set in a hard grimace. Callum hated seeing her like that. He tried playing a game to distract her—one where he’d ask her simple questions about her life, with the hope of getting to know her better. That didn’t go over well. He learned that she lost both her parents. How, he didn’t know, but it didn’t feel like the right time to ask. Callum could somewhat relate; he lost his mother, and sometimes it still hurt to talk about it. But at least he still had his father. He decided to tread lightly next time he asked her about personal matters.
After getting poked and prodded by several branches, Callum finally reaches a clearing. He sees Rayla lying down at the foot of a large tree, her arms limp and chin tilted toward her shoulder. Callum panics for a second, heat rising in his throat, and rushes over to her side to make sure she’s okay. There was no way she fell asleep—he couldn’t imagine her abandoning her post and settling for a nap instead. He kneels beside her and breathes a sigh of relief when he hears her faint snoring. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open as a trail of saliva runs down her chin. She’s asleep, that’s all. Callum smiles. He’s never seen her look so peaceful. He had a theory that she didn’t sleep, that Moonshadow elves didn’t physically have to. Clearly there was a lot he didn’t know about his newfound ally.
“Rayla?” he whispers.
Rayla startles at the sound, eyes popping open. She sits up while her hand swiftly grabs one of her swords in defense.
“Whoa! Relax, it’s just me!”
Rayla’s grip goes slack, and she drops her weapon. She blinks rapidly to make out Callum hovering above her, worry in his eyes.
“Callum, what is it? Is something wrong?” She stands up quickly and turns her head to scan the perimeter for any signs of danger.
“No, I’m okay. I actually thought you’d be awake. You said you’d be on guard duty tonight.”
Rayla’s face colors in embarrassment. That’s right. She was supposed to be keeping watch tonight, but fatigue got the better of her. Her limbs felt like jelly from hanging on for dear life on that cursed boat.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammers. “I don’t know how I fell asleep.” She clenches her fist at her side, angry at herself for keeping her guard down. There was too much at stake to lose focus now.
“No, it’s fine,” Callum reassures her. “I actually came to switch places with you. You clearly need to rest—”
“Nuh-uh. I’ll keep watch. You were rowing that boat all day today. Your human arms are probably close to falling off.”
Callum glowers in mild embarrassment. His arms were sore, but he would never admit it to her. Callum never really cared about his physical strength—that was more of Soren’s thing. His new thing—better thing—was magic, and he didn’t need to swing a sword to do magic. Plus, he was content following Rayla, who was definitely the strongest person he’s ever met. She could outrun any adversary that pursued them, cut down branches like they were parchment paper. But recently, he felt like he wanted to look tough for her, rowing the boat without a single complaint even though his muscles screamed in protest. It was a confusing feeling but one he couldn’t shake.
He stands up a little taller, chest out, and waves her away. “Nah, I feel fine. I just need a few hours to relax, then I’ll be ready to hit the water again.”
Rayla groans in exasperation, plopping herself on the ground. “The water…” She shivers, recalling the feeling of being stuck in what she basically considered a moving coffin. “I hate boats,” she grumbles. His bubbly laugh that follows makes her crack a small grin. She likes the way it sounds.
“Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear.” He smiles. His eyes flit to the tight band on her wrist—her skin bruised and swollen around the edges—and his eyebrows knit in concern.
“How’s your hand?” he asks.
Rayla glances at the binding: a dark promise she made to kill the young prince of Katolis. Prince Ezran, the sweetest, most caring boy she’s ever met, someone who would travel across the world to do what was best for his people. And Rayla’s. Someone she now considered a friend. Guilt threads its way tight around her heart, more painful than the binding that threatens to cut off her circulation. So much has changed since she made that promise. She couldn’t possibly keep it now. She quickly covers the band with her other hand, hoping to change the subject and quell Callum’s worry.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Callum’s voice is somber, a rare occurrence. He usually approaches conflict with a somewhat naïve sense of optimism, making jokes and elaborate plans with a penchant for the dramatic—I do my spell, you swish your swords, and kersplat! The monster’s dead. But Rayla sees a different side of him when he’s concerned about his friends. He’s quieter, a lot more reserved. Someone who has seen loss, carries pain for the people he cares about. She doesn’t want to hear that voice. She doesn’t deserve his pity—not for this.
“It’s nothing, Callum. Just Moonshadow elf stuff…”
“If it keeps getting tighter, what will happ—”
“It’s fine, Callum,” she snaps. Callum winces slightly, and Rayla feels a pang of guilt. She can’t help but try to shut him up. She doesn’t like anyone worrying about her when she’s the one supposed to be protecting them.
“Okay, okay, I’ll drop it,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender.
Rayla sighs and holds out her hand. “This binding,” she begins, “is a promise I made before our mission. I have to return the Dragon Prince to its home. Then, the spell will be broken, and I’ll be free. Simple as that.” What would he do if he knew?
“Oh. Well, that’s pretty inconvenient. How are you supposed to do cool tricks with your blade with that thing squeezing you?”
“I’m aware of how hard it is to move,” she groans. “I can still fight just as well with one hand.”
“That’s so cool,” he says with unabashed admiration, and Rayla can’t help the blush that colors her cheeks, thankful that it’s too dark for Callum to notice.
“I’ll be fine. As long as I can still hold my sword, it’s nothing.”
Callum nods, sensing that she’s minimizing the pain. Then, his face lights up with an idea. “One sec.”
He quickly trods toward the campsite, and Rayla looks curiously after him. Several minutes pass, and she begins to feel anxious. She’s just about to get up and see what’s wrong when she sees him walk toward her with a small pot they use to cook their game. There’s water inside, and the sight of it makes Rayla cringe.
“Oh, so now you’re bringing the water to me. Woooow, how thoughtful,” she bites.
Callum shakes his head and settles down next to her. “I just scooped some from the river bed. It’s pretty icy, so I thought it might numb the pain a little bit.”
Rayla raises her eyebrows in surprise, touched by his small act of kindness. She didn’t tell him just how much her hand hurt, but he must’ve been paying close attention.
“Oh. Thank you,” she says, awkwardly fidgeting with the band on her wrist.
He sets the basin on the ground between them. “Here.” He reaches for her hand, and she gently places it in his. Something flutters in her stomach as he guides it into the water.
The cold water shocks her nerves at first and then she feels a tingling, numbing sensation that makes her breathe a deep sigh of relief. She beams at Callum, happy that it worked.
“Better?” he asks with a warm smile.
“So much better. Thank you.” She looks into his eyes and is overcome by a wave of sentimentality. Here he was, holding the hand that was raised to kill his kind. So blissfully unaware. So…human. And yet, there was a wisdom to him that she’d underestimated. Just like his game of questions on the boat, his gentle touch was his subtle way of showing her that he cares. They may not always see eye to eye—Rayla’s stubbornness saw to that—but still, he cares. In his own small, human way.
“Thank you for helping us get this far. It’s the least I could do.”
Rayla can’t stop thinking about her hand in his. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one rowing the boat,” she offers with a shy smile.
Callum notices he’s still holding her hand and quickly withdraws his. He clears his throat, drying his hand on his pants, and hopes she doesn’t see him blushing. Rayla’s face grows hot, and the fluttering sensation spreads from her stomach to her chest. Callum gives a wry smile when he sees her frazzled expression. For once, she looks like a normal girl…er, elf girl, he notes.
“Let’s travel on foot tomorrow,” Callum says. “My arms really are about to fall off.”
“Thank you,” Rayla sighs in gratitude. “I can show you how to hunt game, if you’d like. That way we can split up and cover more ground.”
“I like that idea. My dad would like it too. He always wants me to go hunting with him.”
Rayla averts his gaze, her chest weighing even heavier with guilt. His father, the king. Gone. She can’t bear to tell Callum as he wistfully talks about making him proud.
Callum notices she’s gone quiet. “Rayla, are you okay?”
Rayla nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah. The water’s getting warm. I should go back to night watch. I slept way too long, and who knows what’s lurking out here.”
“Please, let me. You look wiped out. You were even drooling in your sleep,” he teases.
“Ugh! Moonshadow elves don’t drool in their sleep. It’s unbecoming.”
“Right,” he smirks. “Well then, I better get back to check on Ez. And our egg...friend.”
“I’ll stay up, Callum. Go to sleep,” she instructs.
“I will. ‘Night, Rayla.”
“Good night, Callum.”
Callum walks away, smiling to himself as he thinks about the look she gave him when he retracted his hand. Almost as awkward and embarrassed as he felt. His newfound ally—No. Friend.
Rayla quickly scales a nearby tree with low-hanging branches, getting a birds-eye view of their campsite. She watches him walk away, hugging himself to stay warm in the cold night air. She looks at her bruised hand again, tries to conjure up the feeling of his warm touch. It’s a feeling she’s not quite comfortable with, one almost as alien as her new human friend. But also a feeling she doesn’t want to forget, and some part deep inside her hopes she’ll never have to.