Not far, given her expression as she turned to face him. He expected anger, which he got, a full-on glare that felt like a slap. He expected argument, too, but she said only: “You are bleeding again.”
Venick touched a finger to his chest. It came away sticky. “The southerners would have killed you,” he said in answer.
“Elves do not—”
“Enough with that. Elvesdo. I told you already. I’ve seen it.”
She drew a sharp breath in through her nose and her anger deepened, spread and darkened like a bruise. “You are wrong.”
“So maybe they won’t kill you.” Venick heard the way his own anger—sudden, unexpected—graveled his voice. “Maybe they’ll just capture you. Torture you. And don’t tell methat’sagainst elven laws. I know it isn’t.”
“I can handle the southerners.”
“Is that what you were doing? Because from what I saw your sword was barely up. You forget how to use it?”
Her gaze cooled. “You ran into a swordfight with a dagger.”
“And I would again.”
“Youarea fool.”
“Next time, you fight back. Youdefendyourself.”
“You are not responsible for me.”
Which caught Venick under the ribs, a dagger-sharp twist of pain that felt likehurtandtruthall mixed together. It was what she had said from the start. What he had known all along.I will handle any threats. You focus on keeping yourself alive.
He hadn’t listened. Hadn’t wanted to listen. But here was the truth. He saw it in Ellina’s golden eyes, in the animal grace that made her what she was. She was an elf, and he was a human, and whatever debts he felt he owed her were not truly his to pay. Besides, he’d seen her skill with a blade. The northern legion was known for it. She could have killed her attackers in a few quick moves, could have ended the whole chase in a breath.
Only, she hadn’t. Only, shewouldn’t. He’d seen the way she clung to law and honor and whatever other ridiculous notions she valued over her own life. But she had to know, didn’t she, that not all elves could be trusted to do the same?
She did know. He’d seen the worry on her face in the tavern. He’d seen it again as she fended off the elves by the river. He thought of those elves, how they’d trailed them through the forest, into the city. He imagined Ellina captured, Ellina tortured.
He shouldn’t care. But he did.
“I couldn’t just leave,” he said.
“You would if you had any sense of self-preservation. You would if you understood.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
He didn’t think she would rise to that bait, and she didn’t, not at first. She walked back to the window to draw the curtains closed, then to the door, which she cracked open to peer into the hall. A split-second glance, then sliding it shut. The lock was silent when she bolted it.
She turned back to face him. Her eyes shifted to his chest, then to his foot, her gaze narrowing as it had that first day in the forest. “You should sit.”
Venick shrugged that away. “It’s just a little blood.”
“It is not just a little blood. Sit and let me look, and I will answer your questions.”
A bargain. He’d made one of those with her before.
Venick looked down at himself. He saw the river mud and soaked clothes and yes, blood. Bright red and fresh, but not so painful. Not like before, which gave him hope. Maybe the cut on his chest wasn’t so bad. Maybe the stitches weren’t torn.
Maybe you should sit and let the eondghi do her job.
He sat.
She had no supplies this time, no fresh leaves to heal the wound. He sat on the bed and she knelt beside him, examining the swollen flesh. Then, one by one, she began picking out the ruined thread.
