Ellina wracked her mind, trying to think of how to narrow this down, ofwhatkind of weapon could possibly necessitate the use of the crypts under the cover of night. “Is it—alive?”
Ermese shook his head.No. “It is—” he began, but broke off, coughing.
“Hey,” came a guard’s voice from outside the door. There was the sound of keys clinking. “What is going on in there?”
“They gather at midnight,” Ermese whispered quickly, pressing his face to the bars as if he could push right through. “When there is no moon in the sky. You must wait until then.”
“Who are you talking to?” a second voice asked. A key scraped into the lock. In a bare moment, that door would swing open.
Ellina did not dare thank Ermese, nor say anything else. Quickly, she slid back into the tunnel’s opening, pressing the groove in the wall to return the door to its original position. The light sliced away, throwing her back into blackness.
???
Ellina did not attend dinner that night. She complained of an illness, kept to her rooms. All the servants were sent away.
She stared at her hands. Long fingers. Nails kept short. The palms were callused, the skin scarred. Capable hands. Deadly.
Useless.
What could Ellina do? She had questions, puzzles yet to be solved, but she could not simply kill her way to an answer. The dagger—thatdagger, so tempting and solid and new—lay on the table at her side. It seemed to call to her. It opened its throat and sang her name.
It was not the first time Raffan had gifted her a dagger. There had been a time once before, in their early years, shortly after he had become her commander. Back then things had been easy between them. Tender, even. Raffan had taken a certain interest in Ellina from the start.You have potential, he once told her.I will teach you how to use this well.He set the dagger into her palm, curled her fingers around the hilt, and lingered.I want you to carry it always, and be safe.
Later, years later, she would throw that dagger into the bay. He would watch her do it. His eyes then, too, had been torn. The first of many hurts they would inflict each other.
The resistance stands no chance, Raffan had said during the duel. His voice had been blunted like a cannonball, meant to do the most amount of damage to the widest range. Ellina saw the danger in his words, that he might see straight to her heart and know that this was how to most quickly wound her: with threats towards the resistance.Farah knows that the northern elves plan to rise against her. She knows how they gain confidence. They are even learning to strategize in the human way…
But how could Farah possibly know that? Any scout could have observed the resistance heading south and reported back on its position, but this—understanding the thoughts and moods of an army, understanding how they strategized—went beyond mere scouting.
It was not the first time Farah seemed to know more than she should. She had learned of the negotiations for an alliance sooner than seemed possible. And then there was their conversation from the parlor.
The elves have named him their commander, Farah had said.
Are you certain?
My source is good.
Ellina looked again at her fingers. They curled into fists.
She thought of Ermese in his prison. His round, sightless eyes. To become blind was to be utterly helpless. Ifshehad been a prisoner, she would have rather they cut out her tongue.
I suppose I deserve my fate,Ermese had said.Your sister has spies everywhere, even among our ranks.His words reminded Ellina of something that Youvan had said, something similar.Do you think we do not know that the resistance has spies among us? Or perhaps you did not consider that we might have ourownspies. Our messenger-raven reports movement from your ranks…
Raven. It was an odd bird to use for delivering messages. Currigons were more common. In fact, Ellina had never seen a raven relay a message. They were too willful to be trained and they could not fly long distances. Ravens would make terrible messenger birds.
Ellina paused. A door seemed to open deep in her mind. Like playing the tiles of a dangerous game, she switched around the cadence of those words.
Our messenger-raven.
Our messenger, Raven.
What if raven was not a bird?
What if it was a name?
???
She entered the kitchens. The servants were busy with the morning’s breakfast preparations, the oven fired, mounds of floured dough heaped along the worktables. Ellina caught a worker by the shoulder. “I am looking for Livila.”
