Irritation flashed across the elf’s face, then suspicion, which was not unlike the suspicion Venick had seen in Ellina that first day. The elf grabbed again for his necklace. Venick panicked. He kicked. Missed. More elves joined the struggle. Another hand reached for the chain. This time it was caught and pulled. It bit into his neck. It slipped over his head and was gone.
???
The necklace was not the worst thing.
This is what Venick told himself as the elves dragged him through the city. He was alive. He was upright and walking. He had not been blindfolded and so he could see paths in the golden light of dusk, could watch the city as it opened before them.
Evov seemed to grow larger the deeper they went. Venick had heard stories of the city, how elves shaped the stone by hand, carving the rock piece by piece in the way elves like to do, but he had not expectedthis. The city was impossible, a dizzying maze of walkways and bridges and spires, grey and gold buildings forged right into the side of the mountain. It was tall, too, the city builtupas well asout, with narrow stairways and ladders stamped into the stone that guided elves off the main road and up into a web of storefronts and homes.
The paths became narrower the higher they climbed. Crowded, too. He guessed that whispers ofhumanmust have traveled fast because they were soon surrounded by golden-eyed gazes, elves looking on from above and below. Venick ducked his chin and tried to avoid those gazes. Tried to ignore the sound of their hollers, their questions raised into the air, voices echoing between high stone walls.A human? Here?And, less encouraging,What are you waiting for? You know the law.
Venick glanced at their hands, their faces, trying to calculate the risk. It would be easy for one of these elves to take matters into his own hands, to pull out a longbow or a sword and cut Venick down.
He bit down on the thought. When they took him to Ellina, he would set this right. He would explain everything. He would convey the danger they were in, the importance of securing the city. They would see that he was not a threat, that he was there tohelp.
Gods, let that be true.
???
They didn’t take him to Ellina.
Venick knew the moment they entered the dim, cavernous web of rooms that this was not the sort of place the royal family greeted guests. He smelled the wet rock, the burnt oil lamps. He saw the tunnels swallowed dark where the light did not touch. This wasn’t a council’s chamber or a stateroom.
This was a prison.
“Please, listen to me,” Venick said in elvish. More elves had joined them as they’d trekked through the city. He could hear the cat-quiet pad of more than a dozen feet behind him. He didn’t dare turn to look, to count. He didn’t want to know just how bad his odds were, or to startle them into drawing their weapons. But he risked a glance to the side, trying to catch the eye of the elf on his left and right. “Please,” he said again. “There are southern forces gathering. You must tell—”
“Enough,” said the elf to his left. She didn’t snap, didn’t raise her voice. There was no inflection, just the cool tone of an elf who expected to be obeyed. The lamps were lit at long intervals, the dark reducing their group to shapes and sounds, but Venick could see she was small for an elf. She had a delicate nose, severe eyes. She glanced at him, and he remembered another elf’s command, another elf’senough. Ellina had spoken that way to Dourin in Kenath. Ellina had the same eyes as this elf, the same voice.
“Queen Rishiana?” Venick asked, heart spluttering, daring to hope.
The elf’s eyes slimmed. “Farah,” she corrected. So itwasa member of Ellina’s family. Farah was Ellina’s second eldest sister. Venick could see the resemblance clearly now. The proud tilt to her chin, the way her hand rested on her sword.
“I was traveling with Ellina,” Venick said, grabbing the chance. “I saw something in the south. An army.” Venick relayed everything he had seen and learned. The words came out in a rush. They echoed breathlessly through the tunnels. “They are preparing for war,” Venick said. “They will march north.”
At some point, they had come to a stop. Venick was facing Farah. Her golden eyes reflected tiger-like in the dark. Dourin had not told Venick much about Ellina’s sisters. Venick expected them to be like Ellina, and Farah was in some ways. And yet, there was an air to Farah that was different. A subtle taste of disdain that was absent in Ellina.
A long moment passed. Then: “I do not believe you.”
Venick blinked. “I spoke in elvish.”
“But who is to say the rules of elvish apply toyou?”
It was as if the ground he was standing on shifted. It turned to ice, cracked and broke and sucked him under.
Reeking gods.
“But they do,” he said. “You must know that they do.”
“Let me tell you what I know.” Farah clasped her hands behind her back. She wore black armor. The hammered iron made her skeletal. “I know that we have a border. I know that humans are not allowedacrossthat border. And I know that a human has now appeared in our city with a stolen sword and an impossible story. He claims we are in danger. He claims thesouthernersare uniting. And then, there is this.” She held up his necklace. “What is a human doing with Miria’s necklace?”
Miria’snecklace? Venick shook his head. “That necklace belonged to an elf named Lorana.”
“No.” Farah stepped closer. “This necklace belonged to our eldest sister Miria. She disappeared into the south eight years ago.Thisbelonged toher.”
“That’s—” But the words dried up as Farah reached a hand into her collar and pulled out her own nearly identical chain.
“Each of us three sisters has one,” Farah said. “They were forged here together in the mountains. They were a gift from our mother. Do you see? They are the same.”
