Was this his secret? Was this the thing that seemed to bind him so tightly? Maybe. His expression had a haunted quality as he waited now, watching for her answer. Then his expression changed. “At the time, I told myself that I was burying that necklace for Lorana. It wasn’t true. I buried it because of you.” His words were blunt. “I thought burying the necklace would help me forget you. Like I could finally say goodbye. I never wore it again, not after the everpool, but I always had it with me. It was like—if I could let it go, I could let you go, too. And what if I had? You’d be—you’d probably be—” He smothered himself to silence. His eyes were wide, and too shiny. “I’ve been soangrywith you. I hate that you lied to me. I hate myself, for not seeing it sooner. I wish you’d told me the truth, that you could have trusted me that much. And it’s true, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to any of it, I probably would have come for you ages ago, but wouldn’t that have been—wouldn’t it be better thanthis?”
For all she had wanted him to look at her, Ellina suddenly could not hold his gaze. She sank back into her bedroll. Her heart shriveled like a snail in the heat.
In the distance, a morning dove sang her high, trilling tune. The sun wheeled into the sky.
THIRTY-NINE
They rode into Parith on horseback.
Venick wasn’t sure how they made it back. Wasn’t sure what kind of reception they’d be walking into, now that they had. He half-expected the gates to stay closed shut, for the city to lock them out, call them traitors and defectors and bar them for good, or worse.
But when they arrived the gates opened slowly, a yawning dragon’s mouth. And the dragon’s treasure. Parith’s buildings sparkled in the late daylight, the city at the height of its beauty. Venick stole a glance at Ellina, watching her take in the dazzling windows, the swirls of fabric, everyone draped in jewels and perfume. Sunlight glinted off red rooftops and blown glass lanterns, turning the road to living rainbows. It was like a hallucination, so bright that it hurt to look.
He should tell her now, Venick thought. He should explain everything so that she might have some sense of what she was walking into. He shouldn’t have waited this long. He shouldn’t have waited at all.
Ellina lowered her gaze. On the tundra, she’d looked weak to him, but here surrounded by luxury and wealth, it was worse. She was so thin. She still wore the same ragged clothes she’d been wearing in that prison. The absence of armor on her was almost obscene.
Venick dismounted Eywen and Ellina followed, refusing his help. She gripped the pommel, swung a foot over the saddle and landed on unsteady feet. He tried again to search her face, but she sensed what he was after and kept her eyes averted.
Their progress to the castle was slow. The sun was warm, but Ellina huddled into herself as if chilled. By the time they wound up the path and approached the wide double doors, it seemed as if the entire city was aware of their arrival.
A crowd had gathered in the castle’s courtyard. Venick spotted Lin Lill pushing forward, her boots clicking across shining tiles. Her eyes came to Ellina and she jerked to a halt. Behind her Branton, Artis and Erol followed, and behind them, Harmon.
“So it’s true.” Harmon spoke with her father’s voice, that cool displeasure. Etiquette required that she offer a new guest food and drink and a place to rest, but Harmon clearly had no intention. She crossed her arms. “You’ve brought the Dark Queen’s sister home to our city.”
“Harmon.” Venick cleared his throat. “This is Ellina.”
“I know who she is.”
Venick fumbled for what to say. “I think we need to talk.”
“You think?”
More fumbling. “Dourin. Is he—?”
“He’s alive,” Harmon said. But she was grim.
Ellina’s gaze snapped up. She turned accusing eyes on Venick.
“He was hurt,” Venick explained. “An attack.” She continued to glare. “I would have told you. I know I should have…” Venick looked back to Harmon. “Please. Take us to him.”
“Oh certainly. I live to serve.”
“Harmon.”
Harmon looked like she might refuse. She was furious for all her own reasons. Venick could only guess what kind of rumors had been circulating about his sudden disappearance and subsequent reappearance with a stolen princess in tow—a princess with whom he shared a history.
He watched Harmon consider all of this. She pressed her lips together. But at last, she gave a nod.
???
Dourin lay on a narrow cot in the castle’s infirmary. The air was closed and smelled of medicine. The light in here was muted, but even still, the elf looked grey. His cheekbones were stark ridges. The skin was stretched too taut. Even as they entered, his eyes remained closed.
“His recovery has been slow,” Harmon explained. “Slower than I’d like. Abdomen wounds are dangerous, and this one was especially deep. Too deep to stitch. We’ve been packing it from the inside with gauze, and there hasn’t been infection, but…” She let the thought trail.
“Is he unconscious?”
“Asleep. I’ve been giving him a sleeping draft, though he fights me about it every time. But he needs rest. The draft is his best hope at getting it.”
