“There is no need—”
“I am sorry,” he said in elvish. Her eyes flew to his. “I am sorry I lied to you. Maybe I had a reason to keep my knowledge of your language a secret at first, but that was before…” Before he knew her. Cared for her.
His heart became a hard stone. He held it in his palm, felt its heavy weight. He would have handed it to her then, would have given her the whole of him.This belongs to you, he would say.You know that it does. He would tell her how his heart had changed, howshehad changed it, painting over old wounds, drawing him new. He would tell her what he was finally admitting to himself.
But he thought again of their kiss, and her laws, and he knew he couldn’t say those things, he never could, and so he merely insisted, “I should have told you I understand this language.”
“But you did not.”
“I know. I made a mistake.”
“Did you do it to gain information?” A dark idea clouded Ellina’s face. “Areyou a spy?”
“No, Ellina. Of course not.”
“Then why?”
“Because I wanted to live!” he burst. “Because you would have killed me if I had not.”
Ellina dropped his gaze. She took a shaky breath.
It didn’t matter that Venick was right. When he’d been caught in a metal bear trap and dizzy with pain, hehadthought Ellina would kill him, so he lied about who he was and what he knew to save himself. But it didn’t matter, because for reasons he still couldn’t wholly explain, Ellina hadn’t killed him. She had saved him. Opened to him. Tried toteachhim. Yet still Venick kept his secret. He’d had so many opportunities to admit the truth. But he hadn’t.
Venick didn’t know what hurt more: the thought that Ellina had once wanted him dead, or that now he knew she didn’t, and had instead given him her trust, and he had broken it.
“Believe me, Ellina.” He heard his own voice, wrecked and wrong. “I am sorry.”
“It does not matter.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
Ellina’s gaze changed. “You cannot hurt me,” she said. “You did not.”
But Venick didn’t miss the way she switched back to his language. She seemed to realize her mistake, or perhaps she simply saw him see it. Her eyes narrowed. She turned away.
“Ellina…”
But whatever he meant to say was lost as Venick became aware of sudden movement through the trees, the slide and step of feet running. Venick turned and dropped his hand to his hunting knife, heart lurching as the footfalls became louder, the swift sound of bodies through brush. And then, one by one, they came into view. Elves.Northernelves.
Ellina’s troop.
Venick had forgotten. He’d forgotten the stiff bodies, the stone faces, gleaming golden eyes. He’d forgotten the animal grace of elves on a hunt, synchronized like a pack of wanewolves. During their time together, Ellina had softened. Hell,Dourinhad softened. But there was nothing soft about these elves now, nothing human. They were predators keen on their prey.
Venick recognized Raffan first. He saw the rope of white hair, the haughty eyes, smooth skin pulled over angled cheeks. Raffan spotted him, too. There was a moment of surprise—eyebrows arched, mouth loose—before he fastened it away.
“Ellina.” Oh, reeking gods. Raffan wrapped the whole world into that name. There was a threat in it, no mistaking that.
“Raffan.” Ellina’s voice was steady as she watched the elves gather quickly around them. Dourin was there, too. If Ellina was surprised by the sudden reappearance of her troop, she didn’t show it. Nor did she seem to fear what Venick did, the only thought pounding through him: that they would sense, somehow, everything that had just occurred between them.
“I thought we would meet in Tarrith-Mour,” Ellina said.
“Plans have changed.” Raffan looked around the wet forest, then again at Venick. A long, cold stare. “For me and for you, I see. Is this why you were late?”
“We encountered trouble.”
“The human—”
“Not him,” Ellina interrupted. “The southerners. They have been hunting us.”
