Venick regretted allowing his friend to investigate alone. He quickly told Traegar what had happened. Together, they went up the stairs.
???
“Ellina.” Youvan swept forward. His face looked bleached, almost skeletal beneath the sun’s harsh rays. He did not look at Dourin. His eyes were for her only. “I thought I had—lostyou back there.”
“Lucky that you did not.” Ellina’s voice could not possibly be her own. It was cool and calm and perfectly imperious. “Farah would have been unhappy.”
“I am not concerned with Farah’s unhappiness. I am concerned with—”
“Interrupting my assignment? Yes, clearly.”
Youvan made no effort to conceal his anger. He let it flare in his golden eyes, let it flash through his fingers as he snapped his wrist, summoning his shadow back to himself. The shadow shivered—in echo of its master’s fury or in fear of it, Ellina did not know—before racing over the balcony back to Youvan’s feet. Ellina should have been glad to be rid of that shadow binding, and she would have been, had she not also worried that Youvan only called his shadow back so that he could use it in some other, worse way.
Youvan said, “You ran.”
“I fell.”
“On purpose.”
“Elves cannot swim. Why would I fall into a river on purpose?”
“So that you could escape.”
“But I did not escape. I came here to deliver Farah’s message, as instructed.”
“Say it in elvish.”
Simply. As if there was no risk in asking, no insult. Most elves would never dare insist the princess prove her truths in elvish. That language was meant to be offered, not taken. Demanding that another speak in elvish was the highest offense. And it was dangerous. Socially, politically. To make such a demand—and to have your assumptions proven wrong—had consequences for the asker, too.
Youvan seemed to care about none of it. He waited, shoulders back, arrogance now mixed in with the anger. He wanted Ellina’s answers, and he would have them, even if he must take them by force.
Well. There would be no need.
“It was an accident,” Ellina lied in elvish. The words met only slight resistance, as skin might resist a knife. She pushed a little harder and felt the membrane of the lie split. Then the words flowed free as blood. “A horse startled as I crossed the planks. I tried to move out of its way and slipped, as I think you saw. It was unexpected. I did not run.”
“Then why not wait for me once you reached the shore?” Youvan demanded.
“And miss my opportunity to deliver Farah’s message? I think not.”
Youvan eyed her. Like the guards, he had been warned not to trust Ellina, to be wary of her ability to twist words in elvish. That particular skill of hers was no secret; practically everyone knew Ellina could be slippery, and that was without her newfound ability. Raffan had grown used to Ellina’s ways and knew how to read her. Queen Rishiana had warned that if Ellina was ever caught lying toher, she would be punished. As for everyone else, they were left to do what Youvan was doing now—studying Ellina, picking her apart, looking for the half-truths hidden in her words.
Youvan found none. Of course he did not. Ellina had spoken plainly.
“I did not think you so…eager,” he said.
“I believe I have made my allegiance to my sister clear.”
Youvan paused a half-beat. He looked at Dourin.
“Leave him alone,” Ellina cut in.
“Maybe I have questions for your friend as well.”
Ellina’s confidence vanished. She felt that old familiar pulse of fear. She could lie in elvish, but Dourin could not.
Youvan asked, “Who are you?”
“A member of this household,” Dourin answered smoothly in elvish.
