“No?” Venick arched a brow. “Thinking of finishing the job?”
“Must you always be so insufferable?No, Venick. We left the poison where we found it. I have assigned Lin Lill and Branton to survey the area. They will wait to see who returns for the vial.” The elf drew up one knee, wrapped his arm around it. “Honestly. I see you with Traegar’s book every night. How is it possible that you have never heard of amberwood?”
“There’s a lot of material in there. Most of it goes over my head.”
“Undoubtedly.”
A log shifted in the fire. In the distance, Rahven could be heard telling another story.
“Who was he to you?” Venick asked. “Traegar.”
Dourin gazed up at the stars. “Someone I lost.” The elf’s golden earrings winked in the firelight. Ash from the fire eddied along the air. “Both Traegar and I come from a long line ofgeleeshi. There is no real translation for the word, but it means roughly,one who is gifted with horses.You have seen my summoning. I can call homing horses to me with a thought. Perhaps you assumed it was always so easy, but it is not. Most elves must raise their homing horses from foals to create a strong enough bond for summoning. Even then, the bond does not always take. Forgeleeshi, though, we can call any homing horse, and the creature will listen.
“Traegar’s family and my family were longtime friends. He and I met when we were fledglings. I think we found a kinship in each other.Geleeshiare highly sought after, especially in the legion. It was strange to be so young and have so much attention on us, to already have commanders knocking at our doors. But there was comfort, also, in not facing it alone.
“I did join the legion, once I was old enough to decide what I wanted. Traegar was no fighter, but after I joined he began to feel the pressure to join as well. From his family, yes, and the commanders, but also from me. I was selfish. I knew Traegar could never be happy as a fighter, but I did not care. I wanted him beside me. I could not imagine himnotbeside me.” Dourin puffed out his cheeks, exhaling. “He trained as an initiate, but quit before taking his oaths. He joined the healer’s academy instead. I flatter myself to think it was in spite—his healing to my killing—but in truth I think that is always what he wanted for himself.”
Venick squinted at his friend. “I don’t see why you had to lose him over that.”
Dourin hesitated. “Traegar liked to experiment. He was good with potions and remedies—and also poisons. He met another healer who shared his interests. They became work partners and close friends. I was jealous. I told the academy about Traegar’s secret research. He was removed, his titles stripped. It was vile of me, and low, and I have regretted it ever since.”
They sank into silence.
Dourin said, “You knew an elf in this city, did you not? That is how you learned elvish.”
Venick plucked a twig from the ground, twirled it between forefinger and thumb. “Yes.”
“Tell me about them.”
Venick had never told anyone about Lorana—that she was actually the lost princess Miria and Ellina’s eldest sister, that her disappearance had been contrived, that she had been killed by southerners, but not in the way most elves assumed. They weren’t his secrets to tell. And it shamed him, thinking about her, remembering how he’d loved her and lost her and fallen for her sister and been tricked by them both.
Venick peered up through the high trees into the black sky beyond. Coming back to Irek had been hard in dozens of ways, not the least of which was dredging up old hurts. But memories were not like clothes, to be outgrown and replaced. They were more like scars, fading over time but never truly vanishing. And if Dourin could talk about his mistakes, Venick could, too.
He sighed, and told Dourin everything.
TWENTY
Ellina went to the palace stables. Prismed light filtered in through the glass roof, scattering shadows. The animals breathed and tossed their heads.
Livila was there sweeping straw. She saw Ellina and lifted a hand, which was not the proper greeting for a servant and her mistress, but Ellina rather liked the informality. She let the gesture go unremarked.
“Would you like me to ready you a horse?” Livila asked.
“No. I was just taking a walk.” Ellina had spent the morning meeting with legionnaires, advocating Farah’s cause as they had agreed in their bargain. She played the role well, but the lies left her feeling drained, so she had come to see Dourin’s homing horses. She thought the horses might help ease some of her loneliness. She missed her friend.
“Do you ride?” Ellina asked.
“Yes.” Livila was cheerful. “I begged my father to teach me. He refused, so I bribed one of the servants to teach me instead. My father saw how inept she was and finally agreed to take on the task himself, lest I break my neck under her tutorage.”
A smile pulled at Ellina’s lips. “Subterfuge, Livila?” The servant succeeded in looking devious, and Ellina laughed. “And what of your mother?”
Livila leaned on her broom. “My birth was arranged. My mother served the terms of her bond, but once I was born she did not want anything to do with me.”
Ellina’s smile died on her lips. “Her bond.”
“With my father. You know, do you not, that Queen Rishiana’s servants were bondmated first? It made sense, since we were already bound to her will. We helped end the hundred childless years.”
It felt as if Ellina had taken a too-large swig of wine. She swallowed the reminder of her mother’s decree, then swallowed again at even needing to be reminded. Rishiana had ordered the forced bonding of hundreds of elves—Ellina included. The fledglings produced as a result of those unions had helped save their race. But it was ugly. This was: a daughter without a mother. A mother without a choice.
