“Did you see her?” He flung out a hand. His voice reverberated around the chamber. “Did you see what they did to her?”
“She’s alive, isn’t she?”
“Harmon. They stole her voice.”
Harmon opened her mouth. Closed it. Gave a half shake of her head. “What?”
“You noticed, I am sure, that she wasn’t speaking. They took her voice. The conjurors. As punishment. Ellina was a spy for us. She was caught, but they didn’t just want to imprison her.” Venick pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes. “They wanted to disable her. A punishment befitting the crime. They stole her ability to speak.”
It was his fault. He should have known. Should have seen. Every moment he and Ellina had ever spent together rushed through him, all the opportunities he’d had to guess the truth. There had been times when he almost had. But then he’d think of how cold Ellina had become, how she’d called for his death in elvish, had threatened to kill him herself, and it had seemed absurd. Absurd, to think that she’d ever truly felt anything for him. Absurd, that she might still secretly be working for his cause.
Venick had thought her selfish. Coldhearted. He’d blamed her for the death of his mother. Her remorse, that day on Traegar’s balcony. Her stricken expression on Irek’s beach. She’d tried to tell him then, but he hadn’t listened. He’d convinced himself that her choices made sense. In a way, theyhadmade sense.
Of course the elven princess didn’t love him. Of course he was nothing to her. She was as bright as a burning star, and he was a human. An outlaw. No one.
Venick dropped his hands. “I can’t marry you.”
Harmon wasn’t surprised. Likely, she’d known from the moment Venick went racing away that it would come to this. Yet she gave a long sigh. “This is foolish.”
“I don’t care.”
“My father will kill you.”
“I’d like to think otherwise.” When Harmon started to argue, Venick cut her off. “You don’t want to marry me.”
“Iwantthis constant warring to end. I want our nations to be allied, for no more daughters to ever have to lose their mothers. And my father—”
“Do you always do exactly as he says?”
She was silent.
“He’s one man,” Venick said.
“One man with a giant army and a lot of power.”
“The highland army belongs to both of you. You said so yourself.”
Harmon gave a dry laugh. “Technically, it belongs to the Stonehelm family, yes. But that doesn’t change anything. I am no commander.” She sighed again. “My father will want to see you.”
But Venick was already halfway out the door. “Your father can wait.”
FORTY
The land around Parith was hilly, which made for good cover, though it was difficult to see far. Ellina strode ahead, her shoulders set, eyes trained on the land. Venick followed at a distance. He didn’t try to close the gap. He wondered if he’d ever be able to close the gap between them.
Ellina halted, and Venick’s heart lurched. He rushed to her side. “Did you find something?” he asked, despite there being no greenery here, no greenery anywhere, nothing but dry, chest-high tufts of brush and shiny, twisting cacti. Venick paused, and it was then that he noticed her expression. He faltered. “Ellina.”
Her eyes were glistening. Her fists showed their veins.
“He won’t die,” Venick said softly. He stepped carefully closer. “Dourin is strong. He’ll survive this.”
A tear fell over her cheekbone. She impatiently brushed it away.
Venick’s stomach was hollow. His heart was a dry rock. He’d never felt so useless. He wanted to reach out, to pull Ellina into his arms, let her cry against his shoulder while he murmured reassurances. He wanted so desperately to be that for her. A comfort.
It was an impossible thought. Venick wasn’t a comfort to her. He was the opposite of comfort. He thought again of everything he still hadn’t told her. His secret had become a living thing between them, a dragon with smiling teeth. It eyed him, sardonic, a reminder of everything he’d done, all the ways he’d been wrong, all the ways he’d wrongedher.
And her voice, her voice. Venick’s despair dropped deeper.
