They were not the first curious travelers to follow the long gravel path into the city’s streets. People and elves wandered the flat roads, squinting up at the buildings, which were made of shapeless stone. The avenues were winding, following old paths that no longer made any sense given the new terrain. Most of the homes were empty, but some were already being reclaimed by their prior occupants, old keys fitting into locks, elves stepping excitedly over thresholds. Ellina could see it in their faces: the relief of coming home.
“The abandoned houses will need to be handled, eventually,” Venick told Ellina as they moved up the wide path. “We don’t want people fighting over property, especially not so soon after our victory.”
Ellina nodded, though she was only half-listening. Her attention was on Erol where he walked with Harmon and Dourin farther up the street, his white robes a beacon in the blue light of dusk. Though the five of them had ridden to Evov together, and Ellina could have spoken to Erol at any time, she felt strangely separated, as if there was a sheet of glass between them.
“You could go to him,” Venick suggested gently.
Ellina’s lungs no longer grated with poison. The pain of the inhaled lace powder had abated as soon as she exited Revalti Manor and drew in her first breath of fresh air. And yet, her chest seemed to pinch and tighten as she said, “I would not know what to say to him.”
“Say whatever you would have said before.”
“Things are different now.”
“They don’t have to be.”
“Theyfeeldifferent.” Ellina looked around for Bournmay, wishing to push her fingers through the banehound’s thick fur, to find comfort there. Bournmay, however, was off hunting again. Ellina gripped the hem of her shirt instead, twisting the fabric. “Before, it was easy to be around Erol. He was just another member of the resistance. Then, after, it was still easy, because we had a mission. The lace powder. A purpose to draw us together. Now there is no purpose, only this…expectation.”
“Hedoesn’t expect anything.”
“How could he not? He is my father. He has been all along, and I never knew.”
Venick fell silent as they continued towards Evov’s center. It was only after they passed under a stone arch and into a courtyard that he finally said, “I’m not saying our situations are the same. You didn’t grow up with your father. For most of your life, you thought he was dead. But in a way…it’s like he’s come back to life. And I just know that if my father came back to life, if I had another chance with him, I would take it.” He looked at his boots where they crunched into the gravel. “Is that wrong of me to say?”
A quiet feeling slipped into Ellina. She imagined Venick as he had been as a child, that gentle, hopeful boy, and though she had not known him then, the image was vivid enough that it felt as if she had. She tugged Venick’s sleeve to pull him to a stop. “No,” she said. “It isn’t.”
???
Midway through the city, they were approached by one of the Elder’s footmen, a young fellow dressed brightly in purples and blues. “The Elder requests the honor of your presence,” he intoned, though Ellina could hear how he must be rephrasing the Elder’s original words, softening what had likely been a threatening order into something more like an invitation. That alone should have been grounds for refusal. Yet this was why they had come.
The footman gathered Harmon and Dourin as well, and together, the five of them made their way into one of the unclaimed elven homes in the lower quarter. A part of Ellina was unsurprised—this seemed like the Elder, staking claim to someone else’s property just because it suited him—yet a different part of her wassurprised, because the Elder’s chosen house was only a single floor, quaintly wrought, unassuming. No throne room or stateroom, not even a proper entryway, just a little antechamber that led into a library, where the Elder waited.
He sat behind a desk in the library’s center, his hands steepled, a highlander guard stationed against the wall to his left. The room’s shelves had been relieved of its books, but there were a few of the man’s belongings, a bell, a coat, a tapestry. At the sight of their approaching party, the Elder stood.
He was shorter than Ellina remembered, though it was possible her memory deceived her; she had never met the man up close. He wore a stiff hat that covered his thinning hair and a set of heavy robes, which seemed more suited for winter than the mild spring. His eyes caught on Harmon as she, Dourin, Venick, and Ellina came to stand before the desk.
Tension drew the room closed, like a lid sliding over a box. It trapped all the air so that when Harmon inhaled to speak, Ellina could hear her breath struggle in her throat.
“Hello, Father.”
Despite the room’s many occupants, the Elder had yet to look away from his daughter. “Harmon…”
“Your army has done well,” Harmon said, keeping her tone formal. “The Dark Queen is dead, the southern conjurors defeated. The war has been won. Our men fought bravely, and new heroes have emerged among them. I have promised many of them land or wealth in honor of their courage. You will help me see to the distribution of these resources.”
“I don’t—”
“Furthermore,” she continued, speaking over him, “my engagement to Venick is no more. You will not fight me on this. The lowlanders and highlanders have found other ways to ally without the need for such a union. The battles between us are over, Father. I hope you can learn to accept—”
“You’re alive.” The Elder made a gruff, resentful noise. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
Harmon, who had been doing her best to appear unaffected, seemed to teeter. “What?”
“Dourin could not get in touch with you. With any of you. He sent letters. I did, too. All unanswered.”
Because Harmon herself had intercepted them, Ellina thought. In her attempt to trick Venick and Ellina into believing Dourin was dead, she had blocked all communication to and from Parith—including her own.
It was clear from the sudden defensiveness in Harmon’s tone that this was not a consequence she had intended. “You have spies at your disposal. Scouts. Any one of them could have reported on my well-being.”
“They will not speak to me.” The Elder sounded angry, but his posture had gone loose, as if he might sink right back into his seat. “I could not get a clear answer from anyone.”
