Ellina did not care what he wanted. She was not going to leave him to lead the assault while she hid atop the rampart. She lifted her hands to express her refusal…when something made her pause.
Ellina’s eyes were again on the lanterns. They were simple, cased in glass. Clear bowls filled with sap. The flames, dancing gently.
She thought of a group of conjurors in Igor, their campfire, its low burning embers.
She thought about the coven leader’s demands, and Farah’s desire to take Ellina prisoner.
Her idea began to grow. It swelled like larvae in its cocoon. If Ellina commanded the archers, Venick believed she would be in the safest location. But he did not see what Ellina saw. How she would be in a position to do more.
She gave Venick a nod to accept his request.
He peered at her. “That was…easy.”
She shrugged.You want me to lead the archers, so that is what I will do.
His eyes narrowed. “I want you to lead the archers,andI want you to promise not to do anything reckless.”
It was absurd for him to make that request when he himself was taking the front lines. She motioned, encompassing the whole of him, then pointing to the place they stood.Only if you stay here with me.
His expression fell. “I can’t. I need to be down there with my men.” She could tell by the look on his face that he already knew he had lost. “But—”
She pushed past him, having made her point. She would make no promises to him that he could not make in return.
???
On her way down the keep’s spiral staircase, Ellina nearly collided into Artis.
“Sorry,” he said, catching her by the arms. She waved off his apology, but before she could continue down the stairs, he cleared his throat. “Actually, I was looking for you.”
Ellina paused. Though they had been troopmates in the legion for years, Artis never actively sought her out. This was fueled partly by his deference to her—she, being a highborn princess, and he, a commoner from a tiny village in the north—but also because Artis was shy.He and Branton were close friends, and between them, Branton did most of the talking.
Now that he had her attention, Artis looked suddenly unsure. He gave a timid smile. “I just…wanted to check on you. Ask how you are doing.”
Ellina could not hide her surprise.
“I have been wanting to ask for a while,” he admitted in that soft, almost musical voice of his. “I worried you would think me intrusive. But I know…I know today was long for you. Your fight. Dourin. The infirmary. And you, being unable to speak about any of it…”
Ellina was not prepared, not for Artis’ tender concern, nor for the rush of emotion it drew forth. She swallowed, wondering if she should don a cool elven mask to cover the emotion, wondering if she even could. It had been a long time since Ellina had summoned her icy exterior. A long time, since she had wanted to.
“Do you know,” Artis started slowly, “that the elves talk about how you do that? How your face does so…much. Not just smiles and frowns. Skepticism, annoyance, delight. We can read what you are thinking just by looking at you.” Ellina was suddenly wary, recalling how her facial expressions had once been used against her, but Artis continued. “The elves are trying to learn how you do it. It is useful, to know how to speak without words. Still…” He moved down a step, so that they were at eye level. “I do know what it is like to struggle with communication. I have a voice but—ah—do not often use it.” He pulled at an earring, toying with the golden loop. “The others are understanding, but they do not reallyunderstand.How isolating it can be. How lonely. But I do.”
Ellina pulled her lips between her teeth.Artis was right. She did sometimes still feel lonely, even when surrounded by friends. She made a series of hand motions, which took several tries for Artis to interpret.
“Ah,” he said, bobbing his head. “How to cope. It gets easier, once you learn to accept what is. To let go of how you thought things were supposed to go, or who you were supposed to be. That is the key, I think—you have to let go. And,” he continued valiantly, “you must lean on friends. That is really what I came to say. If ever you need someone to, well, tonottalk to, you have a friend in me.”
Ellina held Artis’ gaze. Dark pupils, golden irises, the most common of shades. Yet kind, and open, and therefore not common at all. She did something she had never done before, something that felt very human, yet perfectly appropriate. She took his hands in hers, and kissed his cheek.
TWENTY-THREE
Come to raid the good people’s pantry?” Dourin asked.
Venick looked up from where he’d been rummaging through a drawer in the storeroom beneath the keep. Dourin leaned against the bare doorframe, wearing a tunic Venick had never seen before, billowy and human-made. Wearing a smile Venick had never seen before, either, a little cocky, a little ironic. His hair was damp from a recent bath, skin clean, each of his nails filed to a perfect crescent.
Something about the way Dourin stood there, all good humor and ease, put a knot in Venick’s chest.
Venick went back to his rummaging. “I’m searching for a bootlace, actually.” His old one had snapped. It was a strangely ordinary problem given the greater issues of war, but Venick couldn’t exactly walk around with one shoe undone, so he’d come hunting for a spare.
“This storeroom is for food,” Dourin replied. “You will not find bootlaces here.”
