Her strength was slow to return. She was feverish in random bouts, often dizzy, rarely hungry. Some days she woke feeling better, only to later sink back into that tired, achy daze. Still, as the tundra passed underfoot and the mountains shrank behind them, she swam out of the fog. Her mind was clearer, Ellina thought, than it had been in a long time.
She began to look at Venick. To really look at him, straight on, as he used to look at her. It felt almost defiant to do this. They had been hiding from each other, him speaking softly and only when necessary, she responding as she only could—with a silence that took up far too much space.
She knew that he felt guilty. She knew that something was wrong. She just did not know what.
It was infuriating not to know, and to have no way to ask. On her stronger days, she wanted to scream at him.Look at me. I am here. What secrets are you keeping now?Maybe it was her stronger days that tired her out and kept the fevers returning. She always felt weaker after. As if she really had spent the day screaming.
He sensed her shifting moods and continued to avoid her. He kept busy: steering Eywen by night, making camp by day, hunting and bathing and cooking in between. Items seemed to fling themselves into his hands: buckles that needed polishing, clothing that needed mending, his sword and his dagger and his boots and hers. Even Eywen was in on the scheme, nudging Venick’s shoulder for attention, nibbling his hair. It was the whole world together, conspiring to keep his eyes off Ellina.
It had been five days since their escape from Evov. The tundra—never exactly welcoming—had grown hostile with early winter. Shallow-rooted plants had long since flowered, their husks now hunched and brittle underfoot. The land, soft and boggy in the summer, was frozen over, and though it had scarcely snowed, white lichen stuck to everything, giving the world an icy, unfriendly feel. As Ellina scanned the barren land, she began to understand the scope of what Venick had done. That was twice now that he had come north for her. Twice he had risked his life to do it.
It made his growing awkwardness all the stranger. He no longer seemed at all like the person who had stormed into the palace and broken into her cell and dared anyone to stop him. Before, Ellina had wondered if she was imagining his angst, but that seemed foolish now. He wore his anxiety around his neck like a great flashing cloak. She imagined nothing.
She continued to try to make him hold her gaze. He refused, and began sleeping with the campfire set between them.
He had given up attempting to tell her whatever it was he was not telling her.
When they rode the blind mare, she no longer rested against him.
???
“You should let me check your wound.”
Ellina looked up from what she was doing, which was kicking dirt over their small campfire. Dusk was upon them. Its golden light struck Venick’s back, throwing his face into shadow.
“I know you haven’t wanted me to.” He cleared his throat. “I understand why. But I think I should.”
It was startling to hear his voice. He had been using it less and less these past days. And he was right—she did not want him seeing. She was tempted to refuse, as she had the last time he had asked, and the time before that. The wound was not infected. It was nearly a month old and healing fine. There was no reason for him to see it.
And yet, something in Venick’s face gave her pause.I understand why.Venick thought modesty was the reason she did not want him looking, but he was wrong. It was vanity over her marred skin. Stubbornness. Things that should have shamed her.
Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe itwasa kind of modesty. She hated to feel exposed when there was still that ugly secret sitting between them. She already felt too vulnerable under his gaze, for how little he met her eye.
He sighed. “Please.”
She turned away from him before she could change her mind, pulling her shirt over her head. She stared out across the rocky land, shivering when he began to unwrap the bandage from around her shoulder with light fingers. Peeling back layers.
“It’s looking better.” He sounded pleased, his breath warm on her neck. Ellina suppressed another shiver. “The swelling has gone down. I’ll get the ointment. This won’t take long.”
He was quick, dabbing the strong-smelling paste over the injury, redressing it with fresh strips of linen. This time when he finished, his touch lingered. He rubbed a thumb over the cloth to smooth it.
Ellina stayed very still. He withdrew his hand. She expected him to move away, and was surprised when he instead helped her back into her shirt. His palm brushed her torso, her hip. Her blood turned to wine.
She was suddenly angry. Who was she, to melt simply because he had touched her? Things had changed between them. It was not like that anymore. Maybe it never had been like that.
His secrets seemed to breathe.
Venick’s hands fell away, and she was cold once more.
???
“I buried Lorana’s necklace.”
Ellina opened her eyes. Dawn was edging into the sky. They were tucked in their bedrolls, readying once again to sleep through the day. She turned to look at him.
“She lived in a little hut on the edge of Irek. I wanted to see it. And when I was there…it felt right.” A pause. “I—did I do the right thing? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I don’t know if you would rather me have given the necklace back…”
Ellina remembered the first time she had seen that necklace hanging from Venick’s neck. The hot rush of anger, followed by a soldier’s detached calculation. She felt as if she held that chain now, gripping hard, its links stamping her palm.
