It isn’t.
—he would strike an elf first. Take his sword, go after the others.
Don’t be an idiot.
But Venick was beyond rational thought. His body burned as he remembered Kenath, that battle. He knew Ellina was skilled enough to kill three southerners singlehandedly,ifshe would. But she wouldn’t, of course she wouldn’t, and so Venick forced his legs to move faster still, heart hammering as he came closer, as he heard Ellina’s voice carry above the wind and rain.
“—get what you are after?”
Venick caught a slice of her through the trees. He could just make out her face.
“You make the same mistake that your mother makes,” said another voice, unfamiliar, male. The scene flashed into view with each stroke of lightning. Three southern elves with weapons drawn. Ellina in their center, sword only half lifted. She appeared calm despite the storm and the enemy elves around her.
The southerner said, “You underestimate our growing power, Daughter of Rishiana. You do not believe we will unite.”
Venick put on speed. His legs pounded the wet earth.
The southerner said, “You do not think we candefeat you. But we will.”
No, Venick thought, hurtling forward.No.
Ellina lifted her sword.
Venick burst from the trees.
He threw his hunting knife. It spun through the air, catching an elf in the back of his neck. Venick couldn’t hear the thump, was too far away to hear such a thing, but he imagined that he did as he saw the elf stagger, as he dove for the elf’s fallen sword. He rolled to his feet with that weapon in his hand, and it feltgood, so good to hold a sword again. Venick clutched his new weapon and felt the haze of powerlessness slip away. He could do anything. He could kill anything. The sword was a gift, a blessing from the gods.
A second elf came at him, but Venick saw her waver at the sight of his expression and he grabbed that hesitation, driving forward. Venick hailed down a series of strikes as hard and fast as the rain. And even though he was the weaker fighter, and she was a trained warrior and a conjuror, and she would soon recover from her shock and play the part she’d been born to play, Venick’s pulse was humming, and he waded into the moment, too focused to care.
He parried a strike, then thrust. His sword nicked the elf’s bicep, which surprised her. He could see her surprise, the foam of uncertainty that ahumanhad killed her comrade and broken past her defenses, and so it was only a matter of using the momentum of that strike to bring his sword up from below, to cut a line across the elf’s chest, land the tip in her chin. Her jaw split. She dropped her sword and crumpled beneath him.
Venick turned to Ellina. She was watching him and not the fight at her own fingertips, parrying the southerner’s strikes without evenlooking. Venick wanted to shout at her.Reeking gods, Ellina. Don’t look atme. But instead he did only what he could, what his body commanded of him. He hefted his sword andthrew.
The sword wasn’t made for it. And Venick shouldn’t have been able to throw a sword like that. Except, green glass was light. Except, Venick was built for it. And so the sword soared, spun once and found its mark in the elf’s back.
He lurched to the ground. He exhaled a final breath.
Venick’s gaze went to Ellina. His breath came in hot lungfuls, mind reeling. But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes went to a spot just over his shoulder, her face contorting, suddenly, in fear.
He turned.
He hadn’t heard the fourth elf behind him, hadn’t seen. He hadn’t expected, either, the looming shadow, the way it made the elf seem larger, darker, as he heaved his green glass sword up and over. Venick felt the stark absence of his own weapon. Felt his empty hands clench to fists as he stepped back, even though he knew it was too late, that he could not dodge this attack, and that death had come for him at last.
The blow never landed.
He saw the elf jolt as an arrow found its mark, there, in his neck. Venick blinked, watching as the elf dropped his weapon and collapsed, very hard and very dead. And then Venick was spinning, knowing, yet—dear reekinggods—unable tobelieve.
Ellina gazed back at him. Her chest heaved as she lowered her bow.
NINETEEN
Venick stared, shocked.
His mind became a wide pool. The moment dropped like a stone. He saw the surface ripple.
Ellina had made her vows. They were sacred to her. She refused to kill elves, to even believe that she could, yet here she had done it. Forhim.
“Ellina.” Venick’s lungs were too small. He stood there in disbelief, yet hehadto believe it, because he was alive and the elf was not. The knowledge of what had just happened spread inside him, deep, then deeper. Around them, the rain slowed to a drizzle. The last of the shadows smeared away as the sky steadily brightened. It revealed the scene more fully, four elves slain, blood mixed with rainwater, their skin slick and shiny with it.
