“That is not an apology.”
“Ellina.” He sat up, took both of her hands in his. “I am very, very sorry.”
She frowned. “Could you say it in elvish?”
“Probably not.”
“Youarea fool.”
“But it’s true that I didn’t know anything for certain. It’s like I told you the other night—I suspected one of us was shadow-bound. At first, I thought it was me. And then…” He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to turn our soldiers against you for the sake of a hunch.”
“They would not turn against me now.”
“No,” Venick agreed, “I don’t think they would. Not that it matters anymore. You killed, what? Half a dozen conjurors? Whoever had you bound is surely dead.”
“We cannot know that.”
“We can assume based on the odds.”
“I do not like to assume.”
Another shrug. “If I’m wrong, we’ll know soon enough.”
“You seem unconcerned.”
“You’re safer here among us than out on your own.”
“I meant you seem unconcerned aboutyou.About what happens if a conjuror uses me—my location—to find you.”
Venick paused. “You’re talking about the corpse-benders.”
“They have smuggled dead elves into our midst before. Until we figure out how they are doing it, and how to stop them, the risk remains.”
“Even so, they don’t need shadow-binding to guide them. My whereabouts are hardly a secret.” A half-smile. “Unless you’ve had enough fighting? Maybe you’d prefer to be absent the next time a corpse tries to slit my neck?”
“You are insulting me.”
“I’m teasingyou.”
Ellina’s mouth popped open as if her argument had been snatched clean from her throat. She looked at her hands, still clasped in his. “I wanted to apologize, too.”
“For what?”
She shifted a little.
“Ellina?”
“You grew out your hair,” she blurted.
“What?”
“I…noticed.” Her cheeks were two bright apples. “Your hair. It is longer.”
Venick peered at her. “You’re apologizing for my hair?”
“No, not—” She screwed her eyes shut. “That is not what I meant to say.”
Venick, now thoroughly confused, tried for a smile. “I can cut it, if you don’t like it.”
