“I am sorry,” Traegar replied, and he seemed to mean it. That was real sorrow in his eyes. Real remorse. For all he’d insisted he didn’t want anything to do with Dourin, Traegar’s eyes were full of care. “I know she was your friend. She was mine as well, but—”
“No.” Dourin cut him off with a hand. “I am saying itcannot be.”
Venick turned away from the elves. He took two steps and ran out of space, so he stopped and scowled at nothing and did not, by any measure, turn back around. Venick didn’t want to see Dourin’s stricken face. Didn’t want to think of how it must mirror his own. There was no reason for the ugly drop in Venick’s gut at the news of Ellina’s betrayal, the steely lurch of anger that followed. No reason at all for the shock or disbelief, because Venick had expected this, hadn’t he? All along, he’d predicted Ellina’s treachery. Hell, he’d insisted on it.
“I know it is hard to believe,” Venick heard Traegar say. “But Ellina gave her oaths publicly, in elvish. She attends every stateroom assembly, every court function. And she has been meeting with legionnaires in the palace, championing Farah’s cause.”
“That proves nothing,” Dourin argued.
“It proveseverything,” Venick cut in, whipping back around. “She pledged herself to Farah in elvish. What more evidence do you need?”
“I want to speak with her.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
Dourin’s eyes went dark. “Really. And you are going to stop me?”
“Yes.” Through teeth. “If it keeps you from getting yourself killed. You can thank me when you come back to your senses.”
“You think I am the one without sense?”
“Ellina switched sides. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because this is not like her.”
“She could have changed.”
“Not like this.”
“Yeslike this.” Venick’s chest heaved. His jaw clenched. He fought a flash of memory: Ellina standing before a court of elves, calmly calling for his death. “All the evidence is there. You’d realize it if you stopped letting your feelings get in the way of your judgment.”
“Says the human who’s still in love with her.”
Like a slap to the face. Dourin’s words landed sharply, cold at first, then stinging, burning.
Shame, hot and thick, poured into Venick.
“I didn’t—” Dourin looked appalled by his own words. “You know I did not mean that.”
Venick turned away. “Forget it.”
“Venick…”
“We’ve wasted enough time here.” Venick was suddenly desperate to be gone. He needed to get out of this house, out of this city, to leave this final, stupid mistake far behind. “We came for answers, and now you have them. We should get back to camp. Let the others know what we’ve learned.”
“No,” Traegar cut in. “It is not safe for you to leave yet. You will wait until nightfall.”
“We’ve fought the conjurors before.” Venick wanted to stab something.
“It is as you said.” Traegar’s voice gentled, and Venick didn’t like that. He didn’t want Traegar’s pity, or to know there was something in his own expression that must have prompted that pity. “There is no need to be foolish.”
Venick might have laughed. Hell and damn, but he was a fool. He hadn’t thought he still harbored any hope for Ellina. Or if he did, it was the kind of hope that knows itself for what it is. The kind that reaches for the bottle even when the liquor has run dry. Venick’s hope was like Traegar glancing at the curtained window: an old habit he’d been meaning to quit.
He was an idiot for his hope. Not just now, but always. When he and Ellina had traveled together, fought together, grown to know each other. When he’d started to…feel things. For her. Venick had allowed his hope to deceive him. He’d been ensnared by it. He’d fallen deep into its watery depths.
Now it felt like he was breaking the surface. Venick wiped the water from his eyes. He saw his hope as if for the first time, and he understood it in a way he hadn’t before. Venick could see that he’d always had a blind spot for Ellina. Or a soft spot. Something vulnerable, anyway.
It hardened. That soft place inside him became as solid as stone.
