It’d been years since Venick had heard the language of elves. Once, he’d thought that language beautiful. Not anymore. Not now as he translated the word, the insult. Not killhim. Killit.Venick was nothing to them. No better than the bear.
The single female of the group nocked another arrow and pulled her bow tight. And again, the fear of certain death, the shower of memories. Again, the cliff. The wind tickled his cheeks. He peered over the edge and saw the drop yawn wide. He felt the hollow swoop of his stomach as he stumbled backwards, gasping, heart pounding and still very muchalive.
No. Venick was not ready to die at all.
“Wait,” he choked out in mainlander, his native language. “Don’t.”
“You are in our lands,” the male said in the same language. Though most humans could not speak elvish, all elves knew mainlander. “The penalty is death.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Liar.”
But Venick’s mind was spinning now. He had not expected them to pause, to reply. Either he had stumbled upon a benevolent group of elves—
Not likely.
—or they had cause to hesitate. But why?
“A reason,” Venick forced himself to say. He spoke past the dry mouth, past the pain in his leg that had run from hot to cold. “There’s a reason I crossed the border. I was sent to Evov.”
Had he not spent time around elves, Venick would not have known to look for their earrings, to spot the small golden loops that marked this group as northern. He would not have chosen Evov for that reason. Indeed, he would not evenknowabout Evov. But Venick had spent time around elves.
Had loved an elf, once. Be honest now.
And so he knew that Evov was a little elven city nestled deep in the heart of the north, and that it was hidden, so difficult to find that its very existence was a rumor. He knew it was where elves mined green glass and raised their young, who were both precious and rare. He knew it was where the queen went during times of war.
He watched the elves stiffen. The change was subtle. A slight shift in posture, the sharpening of their gazes. Even for all his knowledge of their race, he might have missed it. But Venick was desperate, was ready to find meaning wherever he could, and so he watched the elves become still and translated it.
The queen was in Evov.
The elves were again at war.
Andtheseelves were northerners in southern lands, enemy territory. So they did have cause to hesitate. Venick could be important. Oh, they might still kill him, but not right away, not until they knew for certain who he was and what he knew. Venick’s pulse beat a double rhythm, his courage swelling with this new knowledge. If he played this right, he might survive yet.
The female of the group stepped forward. She didn’t ask himwho sent you to Evov?orwhat business do you have there?Asked him instead, “How do you know of this place?”
Typical, for an elf to worry over secrets first.
“My mission is important to the queen,” Venick said.
“The queen.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect us to take you to her?”
“No.” Calmly, because that could lead nowhere good. Venick smoothed his expression, trying to match their stillness. It was impossible how still an elf could hold herself. Even without one foot stuck in a trap, Venick couldn’t hope for an ounce of that control. And with the foot. Well. “I just expect you not to kill me.”
She hesitated.
“Ellina,” the male said. “You cannot tell me youbelieve him.”
She clicked her teeth, an elven sign of impatience. “Ivisha,” she replied, switching from mainlander to elvish. “I do not.” She didn’t realize Venick understood, though. Few humans did. “But we will not kill him.”
“He is a liar. And in our lands.”
“He knows about Evov.”
