Hearing Varie’s proposal, Adelaide’s first shock ebbed, and irritation rose like grit under the tongue.

“Finger tricks, sharp tongues, long ears…” She’d had enough of those beastfolk sayings; impatience bled into her voice like dusk into water. “I don’t mind provocation, lioness,” she glared, a knife of gaze held steady. “But please speak so people can understand—‘sacrifice an ear’? What are you even implying?”

Seeing Adelaide take it as a taunt, Varie’s brow arched like a drawn bow. Her beastfolk underlings bared teeth like a ring of wolves ready to lunge.

“The Hero saved your life—how dare you talk like—”

A lifted hand cut him off. Varie shook her head, then met Adelaide’s eyes, calm as stone under rain.

“I’m not implying anything. I mean it literally.”

She slid a slightly curved saber from her belt, steel catching light like a cold crescent moon, and raised it over her head.

Then, with one clean stroke, she shaved half off the lionlike ear on her right.

“Hero! You don’t have to—”

“Shut it—tch.” Varie hissed through her teeth, a breath snagging like a thorn. Blood cascaded from her crown, veiling her right eye in red. She waved her helpers back, then turned, the lone left eye—gold, narrow, feline—pinning Adelaide. “If I don’t, humans won’t get it.”

Confusion washed Adelaide, a phantom pain prickling her own ear like a ghost limb in winter wind. For a heartbeat she thought Varie mad, then the pattern clicked like beads on a string.

In seconds, new pink granulation sprouted at the cut, budding like spring mushrooms after rain. Layer by layer, cartilage and muscle rebuilt, the regrowth stacking the way a 3D printer laid flesh in the “dream” she remembered.

Varie exhaled, a freeing gust after a climb. Tense muscle unlocked. Her half ear rounded back to form; even the inner white tuft grew in, downy as thistle, matted with fresh blood that lent her a near-feral wildness.

“As you saw, finger-player—our Nacha—what you call beastfolk—heal fast even if an ear is cut clean off.” Her gaze sharpened on Adelaide like a whetted edge. “And that’s where we need your help.”

Gold slits held on Adelaide, testing her like a cat watches a mouse hole.

Adelaide didn’t answer at once. Once the shock settled like silt, she dipped her head and hummed, thought turning like millstones.

“Beast-ears, sacrifice…” she murmured twice, tasting the words like tea. “In other words, you want me to suppress your wound healing. Keep your standout traits covered for a long time…?”

Old clues clicked together like bones. She lifted her head and faced Varie.

“So that’s why you won’t release the convoy. You plan to hide among them as ‘stranded humans’ and slip into Elf territory under the muddied current.”

Varie didn’t answer, but faces tightened like drumskins, ears flicked in restless beats. That was answer enough.

Which meant the reins slid back into Adelaide’s hands.

She rolled a shoulder, posture loosening like silk untied, even a touch helpless on the surface.

“Hey, didn’t you ask me for help? Then why the bristle? Were you never going to be straight with me?”

The beastfolk traded looks, whispers rustling like dry grass.

A bright laugh cleaved the brittle silence like sun through cloud.

“Ha! Beanpole, you lost!”

Varie grinned at a lanky underling, pride flashing like a pennant. “Told you we couldn’t hide it from her. Well? Pay up—three slices of Kama fish jerky, and—”

“—and a block of frozen beef liver. You’ll get it, Hero.” With a sigh and an eye-roll, Beanpole looked away.

Satisfied, Varie turned back to Adelaide, who stood just outside the joke like a still pond.

“You guessed right. We mean to use your convoy to slip into long-ears’ land.”

“Mm… and why go that far?”

“Because our Nacha Tribe’s chieftain was snatched by those long-eared bastards.” She clicked her tongue, irony sharp as vinegar. “And wouldn’t you know it—everyone with the guts to seek justice is on their banned-at-the-border list. You get the picture.”

The jest fell away. Her face set, clear as steel in cold light.

“So we need you to suppress our regenerative parts. At least while we sneak in, make my people look like ordinary humans. That’s the one thing I need from you. For a Blood Mage, that shouldn’t be hard, right?”

To Varie’s surprise, Adelaide shook her head.

“What, you won’t do it?”

“No. I’m correcting you. That won’t be the only thing I do—” Adelaide’s smile curved, a slow crescent after rain. Since Firefly’s raid a day and a night ago, it was the first time she wore that poised, gentle-ladylike mask. “I’ll hide your ears. And I’ll act as your bridge to the convoy. I’ll smooth the words, and get them to cooperate with your plan.”

Varie propped her chin on her knuckles, eyes narrowing like shutters, mistrust flickering like a cat’s tail.

“So eager, finger-player. You must want something.”

Adelaide’s lips tilted higher, a lace-smooth courtesy returning to her voice, warm yet edged. “Conditions sound ugly. Call it reciprocity, Hero of the Nacha Tribe.”

That prim address gave Varie a stealth shiver, like cold water down the spine.

“Stop. You calling me that is nasty.” She chopped a hand. “Truth is, we Nacha don’t have much humans like. If you want, I can send two men to escort you and your ‘sister’ home early. No need to wade this muck.”

Adelaide shook her head again, firm as a stake in earth.

“That won’t do. I must enter the Eastern Elven Realm with you.”

“…Why?”

“Because I want an Elven sacred relic.”

Varie’s eyes flew wide, shock flashing like lightning over sea. “Whoa, you’re kidding… right?”

If Varie’s plan was naïve enough to flirt with failure, then what Adelaide wanted was an impossibility pure as winter ice.

Yet Adelaide’s expression didn’t ripple.

She kept the smile, voice soft, elegant, and brooking no refusal—as silk hiding steel.

“Yes. I need your help to seize the thing that blooms only once a century—”

—the Savia Rose.