“Thank you, Erol,” she said. “I am glad, too.”
???
When Ellina pulled open the door to the infirmary’s small, brightly lit antechamber, she found Venick and Dourin engaged in a whispered argument. Dourin was speaking animatedly while Venick was closed tight, his expression adamant, bordering on angry.
“This isn’t a circus,” Venick told Dourin through gritted teeth. “You can’t parade us around.”
“Would you deny the citizens of Hurendue a chance to thank their savior?”
“I’m not their savior.”
“Don’t be modest.”
“I didn’t fight the army singlehandedly.”
“No, but it wasyourstubborn and ill-advised decision to remain here with a weakened force. Had we not, these people would be reduced to rubble.”
“I don’t expect to be praised for it.”
“I know,” Dourin said in the same way he might have said,exactly.
When Ellina reached the place they stood, they both turned to her, imploring.
“Ellina.” Dourin flashed his white teeth. “Talk some sense into your boy here.”
Ellina ignored the punch of pleasure at hearing Venick calledhers. She looked between them. “Sense?”
“The time has come for us to move on to Kenath. Venick wants to gather our ranks and leave later, after sundown, like thieves in the night. I am in favor of a more public departure.”
Venick shot Ellina a desperate look.
She asked, “Is there something wrong with a public exit?”
“See?” Dourin flourished a hand. “Ellina agrees with me.”
It was announced that the resistance would depart that afternoon. This—predictably, and to Venick’s obvious discomfort—brought the citizens of Hurendue out in droves, everyone lining the streets in order to thank the soldiers for their bravery and sacrifice. Flowers were thrown. Babies were kissed. Venick—after more strong-arming by Dourin—led the procession atop his blind mare, but soon the press of bodies became too dense, and he was forced to dismount and continue on foot.
He threw Ellina a look over his shoulder: a silent plea.
She dismounted as well, doing her best to keep him in sight. It was not difficult. Even on foot, Venick stood a head taller than most others. He wore his usual sand-colored tunic, a winter jacket, leather boots with different colored laces. His sword was broader than most green glass weapons, heavier, the sheath as wide as Ellina’s two hands cupped together.
She kept looking. Strong shoulders. The narrow taper of his hips. That hair. Venick looked like a warrior, like exactly the kind of man these people would choose as their hero. And they hadchosen him. Ellina saw the way Venick’s appearance set the crowd abuzz, roping the city with a band of elastic energy. People began reaching for him, wanting to touch him, shake his hand, ask for his well wishes. They did not seem to notice the lines around his eyes, the uneasy set to his mouth. Likely, the people of Hurendue would never guess that their praise made him uncomfortable, or worse—that he did not believe he deserved it.
Ellina understood why Dourin had insisted on this. Yes, it was good politics, but it was also a chance for Venick to greet the people he had helped save, to see the fruits of his efforts.I’m a warrior first, Venick had once said, but it could not only be battles all the time, always one after the next. There must be room for celebration, too.
They continued forward, funneling past the battle zone with its ruined catapults and blackened streets. A swath of buildings had been demolished, both by cannon and by fire, and the eastern rampart was partway crumbled. Yet Ellina could see stonemasons already at work on the walls, and lumberjacks—some of them cheerfully drunk on shared wine—hacking at the catapults with double-headed axes. The city would rebuild, and survive.
Soon, people began to notice Ellina as well, and it was not long before she was inundated with as many greetings as Venick. As the crowd closed in on her, she felt the smallest spark under her lungs, like her heart was being held to a stone grinder: the whisper of an old fear.
She caught Venick looking back at her. His face was sketched with apprehension.
He reached for her hand. His warm fingers squeezed hers. Venick was still looking at her, asking without words if she was alright, seeking the answer in her expression as if she had never regained the ability to speak.
But Ellina couldspeak. She could explain that she was better now, that she did not need his protection anymore, yet wanted it anyway, because his protection felt a lot like love. She imagined saying that word aloud. How his face would shift in subtle ways, darkening, turning serious. All the ways it would change things between them.
At that moment, someone pushed something soft and loose into Venick’s hands. His arms came up automatically to cradle the thing to his chest. Ellina leaned forward to see what it was.
“A banehound puppy,” said the owner, a thick-haired woman with a straight blade of a nose.
