“You are going to be caught!”
“Please,” Venick said again, speaking over the tumble of angry whispers. “I’m here for Ellina.”
“Cessenais…” one of the elves started to say, then trailed off, looking grim. Venick’s nerves twisted. He wanted to grab the elf by the arms and demand that she finish that sentence.The princess is what?
He forced himself to speak calmly. “Will you take me to her?”
They looked at each other.
“Is she in her rooms?” Venick tried.
“Not in her rooms,” another servant replied. “In a cell. Under the palace. Deeper even than these kitchens.”
“Tell me how to get there.”
“There is no need,” said a third elf, a young female with wide, watery eyes. “I will take you.”
???
They used the servant’s passages. The young servant carried a lantern. The light seemed to drain her of color. “I do not have a key to her cell,” she said.
“Don’t worry about that. Just get me there.”
The elf threw him a glance. Her expression was unreadable. “I have not seen her since she was taken. No one has been allowed to visit. But we have heard…” And again, that grimness. Again, something they weren’t telling him. “I wish I could have done more for her.”
Venick struggled to keep his voice down. “Is she hurt?”
“I do not think it hurts.”
“You don’t thinkwhathurts?”
The elf came to a halt. They had reached the end of the tunnel and were now standing before what appeared to be a plain wall. The servant lifted a hand and pressed her thumb into a slit in the stone.
The wall gave way. Venick had only a moment to take in the room on the other side—an old bedchamber-turned-dungeon, two empty cellblocks, a third solid cell at the end—before his eyes landed on the single elf inside the room, the one who must have heard them coming, because he was standing perfectly still, waiting, on the other side.
Raffan.
Venick’s vision went white. He didn’t hesitate. His sword was in his hand, his feet were taking him forward. Raffan sidestepped the first swing and said, “Wait.” Venick brought his sword up again, arcing high, coming down. His molten heart was spilling in earnest now. His blood burned through him. “Wait,” Raffan snarled again, but Venick wasn’t listening. He wasn’t himself. If he was himself, he would have noticed how Raffan didn’t reach for his own weapon, how he made no attempt to fight back. Venick would have noticed Raffan’s expression, which was so hard as to appear almost stricken. Venick had held himself in tightly all the way here, had been restrained and contained, but now here was an enemy, someone he could rip into and make pay.
Raffan snarled, “Do you want to save her or not?”
That stopped him.
Venick drew his sword back mid-swing. Raffan was breathing heavily, his white hair sticking to his face. He said, “If you kill me, she dies.”
Venick didn’t lower his weapon. His shoulders trembled with restrained effort as they stood, glaring at each other. “What are you talking about?”
“I am going to reach into my pocket and pull out a key,” Raffan replied.
Venick ground his teeth, but didn’t move to stop Raffan as the elf slowly reached into his jacket. Venick kept his sword lifted between them. He was thinking,trick. He was thinking,enemy.
Raffan produced a key. He tossed it to the ground at Venick’s feet.
Venick stared. “I don’t understand.”
The elf spoke deliberately. “I just remembered, I left a candle burning in my suite, and the window is open. The winds are strong tonight. That candle might tip.”
Venick lowered his weapon a fraction. “A fire might kill innocent elves.”
