Beautiful,Venick thought.
And then,uncertain. He wondered if her uncertainty had to do with what was written in her letter, or whether it was himthat made her uncertain. She hadn’t been to his tent since her first day back. In fact, they’d barely spoken.
And whose fault is that?
He opened the letter.
Venick turned the page towards the light and read her account of what she’d discovered in Igor. Someone had tried to poison him at the banquet. They’d done it using the same poison they’d found on the dead conjuror, a concoction called minceflesh. Ellina explained how the poison worked, its deadly efficiency, and how its discovery confirmed Lin Lill’s theory about traitors among them. Until the traitors were uncovered, Venick must always be careful to keep his canteen at his side, to never accept water from an unknown supply.
It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to strike the resistance by poisoning its Commander. The chronicler Rahven had been found carrying poison, too, though that had been of a weaker sort. According to Ellina’s letter, minceflesh was one of the few substances strong enough to kill an elf. The poison was rare, but the Dark Army didn’t need much of it. If even the smallest drop found its way into his cup, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
Ellina’s letter finished with,I should have come to you with this sooner. I’m sorry.
“No,” he said, and saw her flinch. He waved the letter. “I mean, no, Ellina, you shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I didn’t give you the chance to tell me.” He folded the letter back into careful thirds. Quietly, he added, “I’ve been unbearable.”
Worried,she motioned.
“It’s no excuse.” He met her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
Together, they sank onto the blanket. Campfires glowed along the beach in both directions, as far as the eye could see. Somewhere nearby, a group of men broke into song. Separately, their voices might have been unpleasant, but together they managed a nice chorus.
Softly, Venick asked, “How are you?”
She smiled a little, made the elven hand motion forbetter.It was what Venick had thought earlier—she didlook better. Yet he saw the way her eyes strayed from his. He heard the sound of her clasped fingers, the sound of everything she couldn’t say. Venick sensed her sorrow. It splashed around them like a tipped bucket.
He said, “I miss him, too.”
Her clasped hands tightened.
“Dourin would be proud if he could see you.” A long pause, in which Venick considered not saying what he was thinking, and then decided that if he didn’t, he’d be going back on the promise he’d made to always tell Ellina the truth. “I think your mother would have been proud, too. And Miria.”
Once, the mention of Ellina’s eldest sister might have brought them both heartache. Now, though, there was comfort to be found there.
Ellina tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She offered another smile, and Venick became suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, close enough that he could smell the soap she had used to bathe. If he leaned in, he could put his nose to her neck, inhale that buttery, floral scent. He imagined how she might drop her head sideways. Arch into his hands.
But then Venick remembered the things he’d said to her in his room the last time they’d kissed. The things she hadn’t—or couldn’t?—say back.
It was selfish of him to worry about this in the face of her larger grief. His own selfishness reminded him of the other thoughts he’d been having recently, and how this was like him, putting his heart before the greater issue of war.
He was ashamed. The letter hung loosely in his hand.
He wouldn’t push her. He wouldn’t ask.
But maybe…?
No.
“I wonder,” he said, shoving a different question into the space. “Do you ever think about what it’ll be like once all this is over?”
She tipped her chin. He knew she couldn’t fully answer a question like that without pen and parchment, but they’d grown accustomed to speaking this way. How Venick would pose a thought and Ellina would shrug or nod, responding as she could.
She gave a little shake of her head.
“Me either,” he admitted. “When I think about the war, I only think about the actual fighting. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like after. I can’t even try. And for you.” He dogeared the letter’s top right corner, then the bottom left. “If we defeat Farah, that would make you…well, you’d be…”
Ellina set her hand to his knee. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, an indication that it was safe for him to say the wordqueen,but Venick’s entire body responded to her touch, like he was sixteen again. His free hand made a fist of the blanket.
“Right,” Venick said hoarsely. “You’d be the elven queen.”
