She crossed the small distance between them, slipping through the bars to safety.
ELEVEN
Venick was right about the sewers. They led under the city, winding a path through a pitch-black maze that might have been a danger itself, had Venick not remembered doing this in Irek. That had been three years and a lifetime ago, but he would never forget that sewer water flowed in one direction—out—and so could lead the way. The water pooled up to their calves, their knees, deeper than that, even, in some places. It reeked. They did too by the time they felt the first hint of fresh air and then, finally, the outer grate.
Moonlight leaked between the black bars, drawing patterns on the water’s surface. Venick waded forward and watched the pattern ripple. He came level with the grate. He curled his fingers around the metal.
There was a moment of raw fear. That the grate would be locked. Rusted shut. That the southern elves knew where they’d gone and were waiting to ambush them on the other side.
He shoved hard. The hinges gave an angry creak that echoed through the sewers, followed by a swell of relief and a door swinging wide. It spat them out into a shallow pond not far from the forest. Venick hadn’t known where they would emerge, not exactly, but this was the best he could hope for. Kenath was a smudge in the distance. The bells distant, faded. There were no elves. No one at all.
Venick looked at Ellina then. He scanned her wet clothes, her hands, her face, then realized what he was doing.
She’s here. She’s fine. Stop staring.
But he couldn’t. Not as he caught her doing the same to him, her eyes raking his foot and the cut along his chest which had clotted, mostly, but seeped along its edges. Her eyes met his.
“Raffan and the others continued on to Tarrith-Mour,” Dourin cut in. “They will stay as long as it takes to investigate the honor suicide. Not past first moon, and if we are not back bythen—”
“I know the plan, Dourin,” Ellina said.
Dourin’s eyes slid in Venick’s direction. “We will not make it back by first moon.”
Venick didn’t expect gratitude from the other elf. Didn’t expect athank you. He didn’t expect irritation either, which he got, a dark gaze, lip hitched in what amounted to an elven sneer. Venick had the sudden vision of a dagger in the elf’s hand, a flash of green thrust into Venick’s belly. There was nothing Venick could do if Dourin decided he was better dead after all. Not much Ellina could do, either.
Venick could get used to Ellina’s mercy. He could learn to read her tells, could see that she wanted himalive. Could get soft from that knowing. Because Venick didn’t know how to read Dourin. Even if he did, Dourin was an elf, and Venick was a human, and nothing had changed between them. There was no reason for Dourin to let him live, not now that they’d escaped the city.
But instead of reaching for his weapon, Dourin said only, “Raffan will be displeased.” And then, voice low, “I know how he is with you.”
“I will handle Raffan,” Ellina replied.
Venick thought Dourin must look exactly how he did when Ellina pulled that on him.Let me handle it. I do not want you involved. This is not your battle.Dourin’s lips pressed tightly, a shadow crossing his expression. But then, gone. His face emptied as he dipped his head in a nod.As you say.
Venick didn’t fully understand the relationship between these two elves. He did understand rank, though, and there was no doubting who gave the orders between them.
And you? Where do you rank?
Venick didn’t know. It was strange, not to know. He had always been aware of his place in the world. In Irek, then as a soldier. Even in the mountains, he’d known where he—
Belonged, Venick? That what you think?
Where he was safe, at least.
Which he wasn’t now. He glanced back toward the city and tried to envision the southern elves following them, finding them. He let his hand rest on his hunting knife, which was hardly a comfort. Let his eyes slide to Ellina, toherweapons, which weren’t a comfort either.
Believe that.
“Tarrith-Mour is a forest city,” Ellina said. “To the south. Not so far from the border.” She hesitated, a hesitation he didn’t understand until she added, quietly, “You could travel with us and cross back into the mainlands once we arrive. You would be safer.”
Venick blinked. Did not—by some grace of the gods—let his mouth fall open. Her offer shouldn’t have surprised him. She’d saved his life, then he saved hers. Their fates had become entangled somehow. And he wasn’t her prisoner. Never had been.
Yet Venick was uncertain.
“The northern edge of the border is closer,” he said carefully.
“The northern edge sits behind Kenath and the southerners. You cannot go that way.”
“The western edge, then.”
