While Kael fought the urge to violence, Elara was fighting the urge to speak.
It was tea time in the Chief's garden. This was the battlefield of the village elite—a place of polite smiles, poisoned compliments, and rigid social hierarchy. Lady Wrenn, the Priest's sister, held court here. She was a woman who wore her piety like a weapon, using it to bludgeon anyone she deemed lesser.
Usually, Elara sat quietly, pouring tea and nodding at the appropriate times. She was the Chief's wife, but Lady Wrenn was the social captain.
"Of course," Lady Wrenn was saying, sipping her tea with a pinched expression, "one must worry about the morals of the lower valley. I saw the baker's daughter laughing with a laborer today. It's becoming quite... feral down there."
The other wives nodded, tittering softly.
Elara set her cup down. The porcelain clicked loudly against the saucer. The table went silent.
"Feral," Elara repeated, tasting the word. Her voice was smooth, like velvet wrapped around a razor.
"Why, yes, dear," Lady Wrenn smiled condescendingly. "They lack the discipline of our station. They are driven by base instincts."
Elara leaned forward. Her eyes, usually so demure, locked onto Lady Wrenn's. "Base instincts? Is that what we call it? I seem to recall, Lady Wrenn, that your own husband was found wandering the 'feral' district three nights ago, looking for... discipline. Or maybe he was just looking for a whore who wouldn't bore him to death."
The air left the garden. The other wives gasped. Lady Wrenn turned a color that matched the plum jam on the scones.
"How dare you," Wrenn whispered, her hand shaking. "That is a vicious lie. You bitch."
"Is it?" Elara tilted her head. The gesture was eerily reminiscent of a bird of prey examining a mouse. "Or is it just a truth you are too polite to whisper? We sit here, drinking imported tea, while the village rots. And you worry about a baker's daughter smiling at a boy?"
Elara stood up. She smoothed her skirts. "The tea is cold, Wrenn. And your conversation is shite."
She walked away, leaving the social hierarchy of Oakhaven in ruins behind her.
That evening, Haru found her in the library. He looked troubled.
"Elara," he said gently. "Lady Wrenn came to me. She was in tears. She said you were... cruel."
Elara looked up from her book. The Demon inside her calculated the odds. Haru was weak. He needed reassurance.
"She insulted our people, Haru," Elara said softly. She stood and walked to him, placing her hands on his chest. "I only defended the dignity of your village. Was I wrong to speak truth?"
Haru looked into her eyes. He saw the fire there. He saw the strength. It frightened him, but it also made him feel small and protected.
"No," Haru whispered, pulling her into a hug. "No, you are... you are magnificent."
Over his shoulder, Elara's face went slack. She stared at the dark window, and her reflection smiled back.