“What did the princess say to you?”
The question was poorly worded. Youvan was no expert interrogator if he would ask such an open-ended inquiry and expect an honest answer. To corner answers in elvish, one must be specific.What did the princess say to you?Ellina saw the question’s soft spots, the places Dourin could bend and mold.
Dourin saw them too. His answer was glib. “She came to deliver a message.”
“What was the message?”
“That she has a new role in Farah’s court. That she wishes to remain here in the city.”
True, and true. Ellina smothered a triumphant smile. She steadied her expression as Youvan peered between them, seeming to struggle. He clipped out the words. “My…apologies.”
The apology itself was no great victory—there was a reason Youvan had switched back to mainlander for its delivery—but it served Ellina’s purposes. The sooner she got off this balcony and got Youvan away from Dourin, the better.
“Good,” Ellina said. “If that is all…”
“Ellina?”
That voice. This time, there was no gap in recollection. Ellina knew it immediately. She turned, and still she was stunned, because she had not heard the balcony door open behind her, had not heard him appear.
Venick.
SEVEN
She was not prepared.
Ellina thought she had planned for this. She had rehearsed—silently, in the most private recesses of her mind—what she would say to Venick if she saw him again. In her imagination, it was easy. She would lie as she had in the stateroom. She would make her words to be careless, offhanded. Venick would have his suspicions, surely, but she would deny them. She would say whatever she must to make him believe that she was his enemy, and then to make him leave.
That was how it went in her head.
But this was reality: Venick standing before her, his eyes blown wide with shock.
Ellina’s unsteady heart, cracking open at the sight of him.
The sharp, sudden certainty that she could not hurt him again.
And the understanding—equally sharp, equally certain—that shemust.
Traegar appeared a moment later, and it was he who broke the silence. “Ellina?” His eyes jumped from her to Youvan and back again. “What are you doing here?”
Ellina struggled to speak.
“Yes, Ellina,” Venick repeated. “Whatareyou doing here?”
His voice was low. His eyes: guarded. Shaken, and trying to hide it. Conflicted, too. Ellina saw each of Venick’s emotions like beads on a string, bits of colored glass clicking together. They rattled her. She was rattled, to see him here, looking at her as he was. She had forgotten that he could be like this, that it could feel like this. As Venick’s eyes met hers, she felt as if she had forgotten everything.
“Ellina.”
He spoke her name like a curse. It brought her back to herself a little. Ellina focused her attention, assuming a legion stance, legs shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back. It did not matter that the sight of Venick—so raw, so vivid, sohuman—had Ellina wishing she could take back every lie she had ever told him. They were not alone on this balcony. Youvan loomed in her periphery, a solid, silent reminder that whatever Ellina said would be witnessed and reported. She could not afford to slip, not here, not now.
“I came to deliver a message,” Ellina said. She cooled her voice, her expression. She imagined herself a clear winter sky, the vision of indifference. “From Farah. You are not welcome in this city.”
Venick stared. “Really.”
“Of course,” Ellina continued airily, “this is not news to you. You neverwerewelcome here. But Farah is gracious. She is offering you a chance. You may exit Evov unharmed, on the condition that you leave immediately and never return.”
“Why allow me to leave at all?”
“What?”
