He had known the law when he entered the elflands. Had known, too, that he was starving, that if he didn’t find food he would die a slower death. The choice was easy. It wasn’t a choice at all. He crossed the border into the southern forests. For four days he hunted without seeing a single elf. That was not unusual. The elflands were immense, and elves could not be everywhere at once.
The bear trap was not his. Some other human had set it. Maybe that human had been captured and killed by the elves. Maybe he’d changed his mind and returned to the mainlands. Or maybe he was in the forest still.
When Venick thought of that bear trap now, he thought only of Ellina’s mercy. He didn’t think of what came before: the sharp eyes, arrow trained on him, that elven yearning to kill. But now Venick remembered it. The burn of hatred seared into her. Fingers tense, eager. The way she’d raked his injury with a soulless glance. He wondered how he could ever forget it.
And yet, he remembered everything that came after, too. Wanewolves killed. A lie and a bargain. Hasty stitches sewed in a brothel. Arguments for his sake.Because I trust him.
He looked into the forest. He focused on each piece of the night. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that things were as they had always been. These trees, this earth, the sky. Elves were elves. Humans, humans. Ellina used to want to kill him. Now she did not.
The hand squeezing his heart eased. He met Ellina’s eye.
“What’s it called?” he asked, then cleared his throat and spoke again. “The poem.”
“It is—” She faltered. “It does not have a name.”
Venick nodded, knowing the question he should ask next, the only question that would make sense. He forced it out. “What’s it about?”
Ellina’s smile was small, but true. “An elf who begins to see things differently.”
FOURTEEN
He was not anything like she expected.
This was what Ellina thought as she lay down to sleep that night. But she could not sleep, not when he was so close, a mere arm’s length away. She thought about his closeness. She thought about how his closeness had never mattered to her before.
It seemed to matter to her now.
She could reach out and touch him if she wanted. She imagined what it would be if she did. She would nudge him with her fingertips. She would trace the scar on the back of his hand. She might ask him where that scar came from, and he would tell her, and she would see his pleasure at being asked to share.
“You’re awake.”
His voice had the lusty quality of someone half-asleep. She turned to find him looking at her. He did not look sleepy.
“Yes.”
“What are you thinking about?”
But this brought heat to Ellina’s cheeks, andthatflustered her even more, because she could not remember the last time she had blushed. Years ago. Maybe never. It was not something elves did.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” But there was no venom in the word. He was still looking at her. He reached out a hand and touched the collar of her leather armor. His thumb brushed her skin, and her breath slowed; the whole world did. “Do you usually sleep in this?”
“No.”
She did not tell him that her confession left her feeling defenseless, even if he had not understood the words. She did not tell him that she left her armor on because she felt soft without it. She did not like to feel soft. She did not like thathemade her feel that way. She was not used to feeling anything except a strong sense of duty to her country. Anger, occasionally. Resolve. Determination. And fear. Even that, sometimes.
She thought, as Venick’s skin brushed hers, she felt fear now.
Venick pulled his hand away. But Ellina felt the memory of that touch for a long time after.
FIFTEEN
He told himself not to touch her again.
Venick had seen the way her face narrowed in fear, how her eyes darted away as he brushed her collar and her skin. He remembered how she’d flinched away from him in the river in Kenath. She didn’t want him to touch her.Hedidn’t want to touch her.
He didn’t.
