The guards halted.
Ellina realized what was coming and tried once again to find her footing. She could not, and when the guards released her arms, she crumpled to the floor, the pain in her shoulder knocking the breath right out of her.
Farah’s voice was smooth. “Balid. Bring me the dagger.”
A conjuror stepped past Raffan and came forward. Ellina recognized him. Long nose, thin brows. Those sunken, hollowed eyes. He was the one she had seen controlling the corpse in the crypts.
Ellina felt a fresh throb of fear. Maybe Farah intended to kill her after all. Maybe she was to be made a corpse. Her body could be reanimated. She could be used as weapon against her friends.
Farah took the dagger from Balid and crouched before Ellina, holding the bloodied weapon out for her to see. “Raffan gave this to you,” she said, twirling the green glass between her fingers. “He did so at my command. Look. Do you recognize it? No? It is the same dagger my assassin used to poison your human. It is the blade that put a hole,” she touched Ellina to show her, “right in his hip.”
Ellina’s gaze darted up. Farah was not smiling, but her voice was dipped in pleasure: a candied apple. “There is a kind of symmetry to it, do you think? That the same knife used on him has now been used on you. But do not fear.Youwill not be poisoned. Your crime deserves greater punishment than death.” Farah straightened, peering down her nose. “My sister, the human-lover. When you pledged allegiance to me, I suspected there was a lie hidden somewhere in your words. But how could there be? You swore your oaths to me in elvish in a dozen different ways. I crafted the wording myself. I never considered that maybe you did not need to hide the lie. You spoke plainly in our language, and you deceived me.” Farah’s lip curled. “What a little snake you are.”
“Andyou,” Ellina choked out. “I saw what you have been hiding in the crypts.”
“A new weapon. Brilliant, is it not? Just think. A band of soldiers who cannot be killed. We all know that humans have the experience, but this way,” Farah spread her hands, “we even things out.”
“With black magic. Withwitchery.”
“Conjuring comes in many forms. And the dead do not mind. But this is a dangerous secret that you now possess, and we nearly allowed you to spread it. We cannot risk that again.” Farah saw Ellina’s fear and clicked her teeth. “No. As I said, I am not going to kill you yet. Bring her to her feet.”
The guards gripped Ellina by the arms and hauled her upright. Hot pain burst through her, darkening her vision.
Farah slapped her face, stinging her back to life. “You will stay awake for this.”
Ellina’s pulse was soaring. Her breath was coming again, hard and fast.
Farah looked at the conjuror. “Balid.” His name. A command.
The conjuror raised his hands. Ellina flinched and tried to pull away from the guards. Balid inhaled, his eyes fluttering briefly closed. His fingers squeezed slowly into fists.
The pressure began in her chest, then worked its way up her throat. Ellina wheezed, gagging. Balid was choking her, he was using conjuring to close her windpipe. Panic coated her tongue, her worst fear manifesting. This was drowning, come a different way. Ellina had always feared water, feared it worse than most. Her father had died by the water. Ellina had never wanted to go the same way. She writhed in her captors’ grip, bucking as the sensation worsened, squeezing out her last breath…
And then it was over. The guards released her. This time, Ellina managed to keep her footing. She took several deep, shaky breaths.
She glanced at the elves around her, Balid and Farah and Raffan and the others. She did not understand. Surely that could not be all, a few seconds of terror. Where was the rest of her punishment? Ellina opened her mouth to ask.
No sound came. She tried harder. And again. Nothing.
Understanding arrowed into her. Balid had not intended to choke her. He had meant tosilenceher.
She could not speak. She truly could make no sound.
The conjuror had stolen Ellina’s voice.
TWENTY-NINE
Venick leaned over a steel sword, sharpening the blade with a whetstone. Somewhere behind him, men and elves sparred, thehissandshingof their swords drifting across the flat landscape. Venick rarely joined the sparring these days, but he liked to listen as he worked, the clang of weapons strangely comforting.
He kept at his task. All around him, red, crumbling earth reached in every direction. Venick had been this far north before, but never this far west, and so he’d been surprised by the quick and drastic change in scenery. Here the earth was more clay than dirt, the vegetation sparse, the days warm but the desert nights bitterly cold.
Or, well,desertwasn’t exactly the right word. There was water, after all, a whole black river full of it, along which the road had been built. When they’d set off for the highlands, Venick hadn’t liked the idea of traveling along that road. He’d been worried about the possibility of running into highland soldiers. What happened if they met the Elder’s army before making it to Parith? Harmon, however, had been certain. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“I wouldn’t saynothing.”
“If we run into soldiers, I will speak with them.”
And your word’s enough to stop an army?Venick had almost asked, but didn’t. He wasn’t stupid enough to insult their single highland ally. And Harmon had remained firm, insisting that the road was the best way, pointing out that the highlands only grew drier the farther north they went. By the time they reached Parith, the land would be nothing but dirt and dust. They’d need the water from the black river for their horses and themselves. “If I’m going to guide you, this is the way we’re going,” Harmon had said, and that had been the end of it.
