“I would rather have waited until morning, but our position has been noted.”
“And not by wolves, I assume.”
“Can you walk?”
No. “Yes.”
“There is a trail not far from here. It leads to Kenath.”
He knew of it, a border town on the edge of the elflands and the mainlands. “What’s in Kenath?”
“Horses. Food. A place to sleep.”
“And it’s safe?”
“For you it will be.” Which meant that for her it wouldn’t be. Venick wondered how much to ask. He filtered through a dozen questions before settling on the simplest.
“Who wishes you harm?”
And there again, that not-quite-a-smile. “No one you need to worry about.”
“If we’re traveling together, I should know.”
“No. I will handle any threats. You focus on keeping yourself alive.”
Venick dropped his gaze back to the fire: small, hot. Like his shame. And when had he become so helpless, anyway? Venick wasn’t used to being helpless. He wasn’t used to beingindebted. A life’s price. It didn’t matter that Ellina might kill him yet. By the laws of man, that was her choice to make.
So be thankful she wants you alive.
Right.Thankful, that was the word. Bethankfulshe knew how to mend a foot, well enough that he wouldn’t lose it. Bethankfulfor a trail and a nearby city where he could resupply, maybe find a weapon. A real weapon. A sword, preferably, or an axe.
Then what?
Venick imagined—the image quick, shining—that the clansmenwouldnotice his absence. That they would come looking for him. But the thought was so absurd, so impossibly stupid that he hated himself for even considering it. There was no one west of the border to question his disappearance. No one to come after him, no hope of help. He was an outlaw, and unless he could offer his mother a worthy redemption sacrifice, he had no home or family, either.
Maybe he was no better than the bear after all.
He glanced again at Ellina. Elves didn’t trust humans, wouldn’t trust anything Venick said about their queen or their war unless he spoke in elvish. She’d agreed to teach him, to let him live in exchange for the information he claimed to have. It was a delicate bargain. Unexpected, unstable—and unlikely to end well for Venick, unless he found a way to escape.
And yet, beneath it all there was something else. A small feeling. She’d saved him, cared for him, no matter what her reasons. Venick had forgotten what that was like. It was warm, unfurling under his breastbone. He looked at Ellina and felt his heart sidestep their bargain and his lies. It beat an unsteady rhythm as he gazed at her face, the shadow of her neck, the smooth skin of her shoulders.
She met his eye. Something in his expression changed hers.
Venick blinked. He was thinking—he didn’t know what he was thinking. He inhaled a deep breath, held it between his teeth. He forced his mind back to the task ahead, to their destination. Kenath. The city was a half-day’s walk to the north. Not an easy feat on an injured foot, but he could make it.
And then?
His gaze drifted to Ellina’s weapons. He was lucky to have made itthisfar. If he wanted to survive, he’d have to escape, plain and simple. It was his only option.
FOUR
Ellina did not expect the human to live.
The fever had passed, but his foot was swelling again now that they were forced to walk, and she did not like the look of those stitches. Liked less, the empty-eyed stare, the tight lips. Ellina knew pain when she saw it. She knew determination too, and grit, and a fierce will to survive. He had all three, but simplywantingto live was not enough. Not in these lands.
She scouted ahead and behind as they followed the forest trail. She tried not to push him, tried not to sayhurry. It was still raining, which might have been lucky had she been alone. Heavy rain meant better cover. Rain also meant slick earth and wet clothes and a human who did not need either.
He was younger than she had first suspected, maybe somewhere in his second decade. It was difficult to tell with humans; they did not age as elves did. She glanced at his face, the unshaven scruff, strong jaw, hair pulled back and loose. He did not wear armor and carried no weapon save for that hunting knife, which was not arealweapon. He did know how to wield one, though. She could tell by his hands. That particular pattern of calluses was not from chopping wood.
