???
Over the course of the following days, Evov regained some of its former liveliness. A market emerged, livestock and produce carted in from nearby cities. Refugees mixed with soldiers, elves with humans. Spring was at its height, bringing rain, but the clouds often dissipated by midday, folding away to reveal a bright yellow sun.
Dourin reclaimed Traegar’s home. He offered the spare room to Venick and Ellina, though he soon began dropping hints about the queen’s palace and its current vacancy. When Ellina refused to acknowledge any of his clues, his probing became more pointed.
“People are starting to wonder who will claim the elven throne,” Dourin said one night. He sat before the hearth, Venick in the chair beside him, Ellina on the floor with Bournmay. “They believe it will be you.”
Ellina said, “They may believe whatever they like.”
“You are the rightful heir.”
“And so?”
“Someone must take the crown.”
“Maybe not. The mainlands abolished their monarchy. They gave power back to their regions and elected council members to govern their cities.”
“Who began warring between themselves,” Dourin argued.
“The wars are over now.”
“Ellina.” He sighed. “The citizens will not wait forever. If you do not return to the palace soon, you will forgo your position.”
Sometimes, when Ellina was on the edge of sleep, she envisioned doing as Dourin suggested and accepting the call to queendom. She tried to imagine the way it would be to acknowledge her duty and step into her sister’s place, or her mother’s. She could do away with old laws and enact new ones. She could keep the world at peace.
But Ellina was awake. She had seen too much death and too much loss to believe duty held a place over her own happiness anymore. She saw it when she looked at Dourin, who lived alone in the home of the elf he had loved, and tried to pretend that was all right, when it was not.
Dourin looked at Venick. “Are you going to say anything?”
“Ellina is free to make her own choices.” Venick caught Ellina’s eye. “Whatever you decide.”
Ellina lay back against Bournmay, propping her head on the banehound’s belly. “Maybe Venick will become king.”
Venick made a spluttering sound. “Maybe I’llwhat?”
“You are a born leader. People are drawn to you. Elves, too. I will happily give you my crown.”
“The elflands have never had a king. Also, I’m not an elf.”
Ellina was mirthful. “That does not sound like ano.”
More spluttering.
“It was merely a suggestion.” She looked at Dourin. “Well? Would you take Venick as your king?”
Dourin rolled his eyes.
???
Three days later, Ellina made her way to a field south of Evov to hunt for milkweed, which Erol required for one of his brews. When the sun hit its highest point, she found a tree with broad, rubbery leaves and came to lay under its shade. She was just thinking she might doze off when a head blocked her vision. “I was told I’d find you here.”
Ellina sat up. Grass clung to her braid. She did not bother brushing it away.
Harmon said, “I came to apologize.”
The woman sank down beside Ellina, her skirts bunching around her knees. She was quiet for a moment, and Ellina was quiet, giving Harmon time.
“I guess,” Harmon said, “I don’t really know how to apologize for everything. It seems like, though we had the same goal, my way of reaching that goal often involved hurting you. I don’t know you well, and you don’t really know me, so I can’t just ask for forgiveness and skate by on your good faith.” She shot a glance up. “Sorry. Those were my father’s words.”
