“Lower your voice.”
“That’s the whole reason we’re here.”
“We are here to find Ellina,” the elf countered, “in whatever way is least likely to get us killed. Perhapsyouwould like to battle conjurors to get across the bridge—”
“I never said—”
“—which fits, seeing as you like to bludgeon your way through every problem—”
“I do notbludgeon—”
“—but I would like to accomplish this mission with some finesse—”
“Oh for gods’ sake, Dourin.” Venick’s anger spiked. His hands clenched to fists. He was aware that they’d stopped in the center of the market, that this argument was likely to draw attention, but instead of dropping his voice and moving on, his volume only grew. “Where do you expect to find her, if not at the palace? We can’t search the whole city.”
“We can, if that is what it takes.”
“You’re not serious.”
“We owe it to her,” Dourin insisted. “We both do.”
Venick crossed his arms. He didn’t owe Ellina anything. He had half a mind to call it quits, and damn Dourin anyway. Safer to stay put and let the elf risk his own neck. Better yet, safer to turn around and abandon this rescue mission altogether. They’d barely managed to escape Evov the first time. Insane, the both of them, for coming back to this place without a real strategy, other thanfind Ellina.
In the days since the stateroom coup and the queen’s death, only a handful of palace elves had managed to escape the city. Those elves—most of whom had witnessed Queen Rishiana’s murder and now feared the consequences—had been hiding out in the foothills around Evov for the last eight days, trying to agree on a plan and generally fighting amongst themselves. Dourin and Venick had been at the center of those fights. Dourin believed that since Ellina had not escaped with the rest of them, she must have been caught in the stateroom battle and was now being held prisoner in the city. Venick, who no longer trusted anything he once thought he knew about Ellina, suggested that maybe she didn’t want to escape. Maybe she had chosen to join her traitorous sister instead.
Neither of them mentioned the third option.
Venick’s frustration gathered. It condensed, palpable, in the air between them. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to return to this city. Had spent the last handful of nights trying to convince Dourin out of it, convince him that they had better things to worry about. The southerners had succeeded in overthrowing Queen Rishiana and conquering Evov. According to the rumors, those southerners—under Farah’s command and with the support of her soldiers—were swiftly spreading their power, taking the elflands into their control one city at a time. And they wouldn’t stop there. Once they had conquered the north, they would continue west, bringing war to the mainlands—Venick’s home. If the northern resistance stood a chance, they needed to rally their allies, and they needed to do it quickly. But instead here they were, risking their necks to chase a traitor.
You don’t know that she is.
Venick drew his eyes skyward. It was true. He couldn’t be sure Ellina had betrayed them. And if he was being honest with himself, maybe he would admit that betrayal didn’t make sense. Ellina cared deeply for her country. She’d been a legionnaire, sworn to protect and defend it. And Ellina and Farah, despite being sisters, had never been allies. Ellina and her bondmate Raffan certainly hadn’t. Wasn’t it possible, then, that Ellina truly had been captured in the fighting? Wasn’t it possible that she was now being held prisoner here against her will?
Maybe. Yet it was easier to think of Ellina as the enemy. Easier for Venick to justify his sudden, terrible repulsion of her. If Ellina was a traitor to the north, Venick could think of how she had forgone her values and her oaths. He could focus on the ways she had wronged Dourin and the legion. He could think of anything, how she had betrayed her country, how she had turned her back on her very self…anything other than how she had betrayedhim, and cast him out, and wished him dead.
“If she is being held prisoner, they would not keep her in the palace anyway,” Dourin said now. “She would be in the dungeons, which are in the city.”
“So that’s where we’re going? The dungeons?”
“No.”
Infuriating. The elf was infuriating. “Dourin. This is ridiculous.”
“I have a plan.”
“Then maybe it’s time youshare it.” Venick’s voice snapped through the market, louder than he’d intended. He saw his error at once. And he should have known better, should have realized they’d been standing there too long, that they’d already gained the attention of nearby traders and shoppers. But Venick had been thoughtless. He’d been angry.
There was a sudden bubble of silence. The flash of golden eyes turning their way. Venick grimaced, trying to undo the damage by ducking his head, but too late. More heads were turning now, eyes slimming as the crowd’s attention jumped from Dourin to Venick, noticing the strange size of him, the strange way he moved. Not an elf. Not one of them.
Human.
“Well,” Dourin said dryly as two conjurors materialized into view. “That did not take very long.”
The mood of the market quickly darkened. The citizens backed away from Venick and Dourin as the conjurors approached, the anonymity of the crowd shedding off them like water. More than ample room now to draw a weapon, with space enough to swing it.
Just like you wanted.
Huh. Teach him to be careful what he wished for.
