Her eyes wavered. “There are other histories,” she said smoothly. “The building of Evov. The discovery of green glass. And I think,” she squinted, scanning the spines, “there is a recounting of the hundred childless years, and all the fledglings raised in this city since.”
But that surprised Venick. “Are there children here now, in Evov?” He had not considered this. Venick knew elves came to Evov to raise their young, but he had not considered that if war reached the city, elven children would be at risk, too.
“There are children in the palace,” Ellina replied.
“But I didn’t see—”
“You did, probably. Our children age quickly. A fledgling of eleven or twelve will look just like me.”
Venick made a skeptical noise. “I doubt they will lookjustlike you.”
“Oh?”
“You don’t move like a child.”
Ellina’s laugh surprised him. He realized, too late, what he was saying. “How do I move?” Her tone was amused. Teasing. His cheeks warmed.
Like water. Like magic.
“Like a soldier,” Venick replied. He forced a shrug. “Your training shows.”
“Does it?”
“And the way you speak. You’re—precise.”
Ellina squinted, then laughed again. “Precise?”
“Direct.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Like you said. A legionnaire’s training.”
Venick had always wondered. “Why did you join the legion?”
Ellina drew one leg up, wrapped her arm around it. “It was something I could call my own. With two elder sisters, I struggled to find my place here. And I was good at it.” She studied him. “Like you are.”
“I was never an elite solider.”
“But you were trained in battle. You know about war.”
“All men know about war.”
“Not all men fight as well as you. Not all men could journey through the elflands and live, as you did.” Venick cleared his throat, uncomfortable under her sudden scrutiny. “Who were you, Venick, before you came across the border?”
“A lowlander.”
“That iswhere,notwho.”
“I was a soldier, and then…” He shook his head. “What do you want to know?”
Ellina did not break his gaze. She answered that question, and the larger one contained inside it. “Everything.”
So Venick told her. He told her about his homeland and its hardworking people. He described the fishing season, how the air always smelled of brine, boats docked and bobbing on the water. He told her about the surrounding lands, the trees and plants that stayed green year-round. He described his mother as he remembered her from his childhood, the woman who would place a warm hand on his cheek and ask him who he wanted to become, who would smile when he replied that he wanted to be a warrior, like his father.
And his father. Venick pushed aside the lingering resentment and described how he’d learned war at his father’s knee. How eager he had been to learn. He told Ellina about the first time he’d gone to battle, and how he had been afraid, yet more afraid that his fear would make him a coward, so he drove into the front lines to prove that he was not. He remembered the look on his father’s face after that battle was won. The pride of a father discovering his son had become a man.
As Venick talked, Ellina pulled the books closer, came to lean against the headboard beside him. Her thigh fit against his. Her soft warmth radiated. It almost had Venick dreaming again.
He cleared his throat instead, pulled the volumes from her hands. He flipped through the pages, and his story changed. He detailed the things his father had taught him, things he’d learned himself on the field. He talked Ellina through a dozen possible battle scenarios, explaining how a small force might take a city, how a large force might take a city, howone elfmight take a city, if he was good enough. He discussed planning an attack, and how the plan often determined the outcome. He talked strategy, how the clever option was not always best, how timing and momentum could tip a battle.
