Ellina paused. “They could have been discussing anything.”
“But they were probably discussingyou.”
Ellina understood Dourin’s concern. An illicit nighttime meeting in the privacy of the archives between her bondmate and her sister? It was unusual. Itwasworrisome. Though Farah and Raffan were, by blood and bonding, both members of the royal circle, those two elves had never been anything more than cordial acquaintances. They were not friends. They had no business together, no reason to meet.
Dourin leaned forward. “I trust you, Ellina. Do you trust me?”
She lifted her eyes. “Yes.”
“Then listen to what I am about to say to you. It is not good that Farah is angry. It is not good that Farah and Raffan have reason to make you their common enemy. You have played them both, but this is not the kind of game you can win. Abandon it now, before it is too late.”
“Abandon Venick, you mean.”
“If you continue to defend him, things will only become worse for you.”
“And if I do not? If I pretend not to believe him, and ignore his warning, and call for his death, as Farah has? Whatthen? How are we supposed to prepare to battle a southern army if we cannot even acknowledge its existence?”
“There are other dangers. More pressing dangers.” Dourin’s expression changed, became anguished. “You cannot fight the southerners if you are banished to the whitelands for your involvement with a human.”
“It will not come to that.” But Ellina thought of Venick hidden away in his prison. She thought of the wayotherrumors were spreading, and why she did not go to him now. She said, “I need more time.”
Dourin sighed, rubbing his temple. “To do what?”
But Ellina had not told Dourin about her elven lies. She had not told anyone. The reason, she decided, was simple. Farah believed Venick could lie in elvish. But this was wrong. The wilding chieftain had been specific—onlyconjurorshad that power, and human conjurors had been eradicated long ago. Still, if it became known that elves could lie in elvish, what was to stop elves from believing that humans could, too? Venick’s warning would be dismissed. The queen would take Farah’s side. Venick would be executed, and the enemy army would arrive uncontested.
This was the reason Ellina gave herself, yet perhaps it was not her only reason. She herself had need for secrecy. Learning to lie in elvish would do her no good if othersknewshe could lie.
Ellina looked at Dourin. Here was her friend. Her dearest ally. He would keep her secret if she told him the truth.
Do you trust me?
Yes.
And that was true. Ellina did trust Dourin. She trusted him enough to tell him her nakedly treasonous story about Kenath and Venick and the forest. She had confessed everything, confidant that Dourin would not turn his back on her, would not call for her banishment. And he had not. Had instead done what she knew he would, which was to listen, and shake his head, and stand by her anyway.
Yes, Ellina thought. She trusted Dourin. But trust was not what kept her from telling him about her plans or her newfound power. Trust had nothing to do with it.
Dourin seemed to have forgotten his question. He was staring out the window. He said, “We should alert nearby cities of the danger. They should be evacuated. They can take refuge here, in Evov.”
Ellina tapped a fingernail on the table. “I thought you did not believe Venick’s warning.”
“I never said I did not believe him.”
“So you were just being difficult.”
Dourin skinned a smile. “I ambeingpragmatic. I am trying to make the best of an impossible situation.”
Ellina huffed. “As am I.”
“You are not exactly equipped for pragmatism.” Dourin squinted, twirling his finger at her. “Not where the human is concerned.”
“Why? Because I—” She shut her mouth.
“Care for him?” Dourin supplied. “Yes, actually. Your insane performance in the stateroom is proof of that.”
“I am not insane.”
“In love. Insane.” Dourin tilted his hands back and forth as if balances on a scale. “Same difference.”
