She knew he was there, but didn’t look up. She jerked the laces, pulling them tight, then switched to the other foot. When she reached for the plainsland-style tunic draped over a nearby rock, Venick caught sight of the jagged scars along her back, a lash carving up over one shoulder, the dagger wound in the other.
Her hands stilled, and Venick wondered, could she hear the painful thump of his heart? Or sense his thoughts, which had begun to keen? He became caught in the memory of her scars and how they’d come to be, some of which he’d witnessed himself, others he’d only imagined, or dreamed about, in nightmares.
She drew the tunic over her head, pinching the scene from sight.
He wanted to speak. He wanted to ask again if she was sure, to beg her to reconsider. There were other soldiers who could do this, others who could be dressed to look like Ellina, who would be eager to risk themselves for this mission. He wanted to grab hold of her, beg her to stay,stay.Stay alive, stay safe. Stay there, with him.
His fear felt wretchedly close to misery.
She reached for her chest armor. Venick found himself stepping forward to help lace up the armor’s sides before he’d consciously chosen to do so. She met his eye over her shoulder. Hers were still bright, still burning with purpose. But they had settled a little, too, brimming with everything he knew about her…and the things he still couldn’t guess.
He let his hands fall. It felt as if they’d had an entire conversation, though neither of them had said a word.
She hesitated, then lifted her palm to cradle his face.
He thought about the last time she’d done this, and how poorly it had ended. He wanted it to go better this time. He didn’t want to repeat his mistakes. Yet he was drowning in uncertainty, suddenly sure that he’d ruin this, because he’d ruined everything he’d ever loved. Marred it by greed and his own inability to see things clearly.
She’s not the elf she used to be.
Venick tried to do something he’d never been good at doing: to quiet his mind and simply see Ellina as she was. There was a spark of surety in her eyes. A determined set to her jaw. Perhaps it was her voicelessness, which required her to use expressions more than she ever had before. Or maybe it was something else. Shewasn’tthe elf she used to be, but only then did Venick consider what that might mean. Ellina had adapted. Softened in some places, toughened in others, like a tree split by lighting that continues to grow. No longer was she the rigid legionnaire staunchly set in her beliefs. She had changed. Her ability to change had saved her life.
Venick would always worry about her, because he loved her. He would always wish to keep her safe. But if she could adapt, then he would, too.
Ellina watched him. Her expression grew radiant, and Venick wondered if she saw it: the moment he gave her back his trust.
He slid a hand around her neck, drew her close. He made a soft sound into her mouth, which was pliant as it opened beneath his.
I can’t lose you,he was saying as he kissed her.
She made fists of his shirt.You won’t.
TWENTY
Ellina dug her knees hard into Eywen’s sides. She sped across the flat earth. The sun hung like an ornament on the horizon, shivering orange and seemingly huge, yet Ellina knew how the sun would appear to shrink as it climbed higher into the sky, tightening from a wide orb into a small, hard disc. Its enormity was merely an illusion.
Ellina was under no illusions. She knew the danger of what she was doing. Knew its foolhardiness, its likelihood for disaster. Worse: she had done this before. She had faced her enemy and failed.
She stood in the saddle, crouching low, allowing her body to move with the horse’s long gait. Venick had insisted that Ellina take Eywen, saying that he did not trust any other steed to keep her safe. Though Ellina was not sure what he meant by that—how could any horse keep her safe, let alone a blind one?—she could appreciate the mare’s ability. Rather than act as a hindrance, Eywen’s blindness made her more tuned to handling; the slightest pressure in Ellina’s knees or smallest pull on the bridle elicited an instant response.
The mare had been Dourin’s. As ageleeshi,Dourin had raised and trained horses for the legion, using his summoning abilities to give their troop an edge during border skirmishes. Eywen had been a favorite of his. In fact, Dourin seemed to prefer the horse because of her blindness.
Ellina did not know how Eywen had lost her vision. She had never asked.
She looked at her hands gripping the reins. The bounce of the horse’s mane.
Why had she never thought to ask?
Ellina’s lungs tightened. Her chest was fossilized bone. This was a familiar feeling, one that seemed to float over her skin like a settling of dust. Sister, mother, friend. Yes, Ellina knew well the bleakness of grief.
But it was easier, with these new challenges ahead. Easier, to keep her mind on the mission, which required her full attention. Speed was of the essence, and so in addition to her new riding gear, Ellina had donned the lightest armor she could find, opting against a full warrior’s kit. She carried a borrowed bow—ashwood, longer than she was used to wielding, already strung and strapped to her back—plus two daggers at her waist. No sword. It was her least favorite weapon and would only weigh her down.
The sun continued to lift. On the horizon, Ellina could see the sprawling outline of Hurendue, and beyond that, a blot of blue mountains, their snaggletooth peaks capped in snow.
A rabbit darted across her path. The wind shifted and sighed.
Ellina thought of Venick’s mouth moving over hers. How his kiss had filled her like a jewel fills with light. The way he’d looked at her.
This thought was more distracting than the others. It promised a seductive sort of comfort…and pain. As Ellina wavered, deciding whether to dip deeper into this memory or shut it out, she came around a knoll and saw several things at once.
