“I didn’t mean—” Venick tried to backtrack. “It wasn’t that simple.”
“It is illegal to enter the elflands. We all know elves will kill any human who crosses into their territory. Yet they did not kill you. Why?”
“I was lucky.”
“You also managed to find their hidden city. From what I understand, Evov does not simply appear for anyone. Yet it appeared for you.”
“I know, I don’t understand it either…”
“And now you have gathered an army of elves who, by your own admittance, follow your command.”
“Please, if you just—”
“You killed your father for them, and now you’ve become one of them.”
“No.” The room seemed to tilt. “It’s not like that.”
“I know about the elven princess.”
Venick flinched as if struck. “She’s no one.”
“She won your life price.”
“That debt has been paid. I’m notone of them. I have befriended the elves, yes, but only because we need to put aside our differences to fight a common—”
“Draw your sword.”
Venick snapped his mouth shut.
Lira stood from her chair. She wasn’t a tall woman, but in that moment she seemed enormous. “Draw your sword.”
He wanted to resist. That small, helpless part of him that couldn’t stop holding onto hope begged him to stall for time, to put off the inevitable a little longer. He felt stupid and wrongheaded, like a child who didn’t understand that the world had rules about who he was allowed to be, and whom he was allowed to love.
When would Venick learn? Maybe Theledus was right. Maybe he had been away too long. When Venick had journeyed through the elflands, building his army, befriending elves, he’d only been thinking about two sides of the war—the north and the south. He hadn’t considered that there was a third side, and a fourth and a fifth. He had overlooked the fact that humans, too, have their grudges, and might not want to fight alongside a race who’d once burned their conjurors and exiled their ancestors. That they might consider it a betrayal that Venick did.
He drew his sword. The green glass shimmered in the dim tavern light: the weapon of elves.
“You have always been fascinated by the elves,” said his mother. “Even as a boy, you begged me for stories of them. Then came your exile, and I thought you would have learned. But it seems your ties to that race have only deepened.” She broke their gaze, and it was cruel, it was wrong, that the first glimpse Venick got of the old Lira was now, when she was disowning him. “Your alliances cannot be trusted.”
“Let me prove myself to you.”
“You cannot.”
“I can.” Venick’s voice cracked in a way that might have shamed him had this been a different moment. Had he been a different man. But it was not, and he was not. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for my people. Let me prove that my loyalties have never wavered. I can fight for you—for this country.” He swallowed hard. “Please.”
Lira would not look at him. Her gaze settled on something, nothing, some distant memory he could not see. “You were such an easy child. You liked your books and your toys and the animals. You liked to help me, always doing as I asked. I worried over it. I thought you were too soft.” Her shoulders lifted. “Then you grew and went to war. I heard men speak of your heroism and your courage. Like a well-made bow, they said. True and strong. I realized then that you were not soft. You were…” She brought her eyes back to him. “Well. You were like your father.”
Venick held her gaze. He saw it again, more clearly now: that old softness. Atlas’ death had changed Lira. Her son’s betrayal had changed her too. But his mother was still there, shewas, and as Venick waited for her verdict, his hope began to grow again, even as he’d promised himself that he was done hoping.
Lira fell quiet. Her silence was the silence of dreams: absolute.
When she finally spoke again, that too was like a dream.
“A probationary period,” Lira announced. “You have until the new moon to prove your loyalty to our nation and our race. I will make my decision then. It is agreed.”
FIFTEEN
Venick hung near the back of the tavern. He waited for the other councillors to file out, hoping for a chance to speak with his mother alone. The councillors took their time, conversing quietly, gathering their few belongings. Venick was just beginning to wonder if they were being purposely slow when he heard the singing: a low chorus of men in the distance.
