Cool, weather-warped shingles. Grimy, and therefore slick. Ellina felt that grime smear into her palms as she pushed upright, moving towards a gable and a second, smaller roof. She scaled this as well, and then she was there, clinging to a weathervane at the top of the granary and peering out over the city.
The granary was not the tallest point in Igor, but it was high enough that Ellina could see the network of muddy streets below, the little homes arranged in tight clusters, a few larger buildings interspersed between. Ellina scanned the grid of roads and public houses, spinning in a slow circle until at last, she spotted it—a flat grey river bisecting the city.
Her hand tightened on the weathervane. Ellina had smelled the musky tang of water as soon as they entered Igor, but she had not been able to ask about it, nor locate its source, until now. The river was three times as wide as any of the brooks they had encountered during their trek from Parith, and while it appeared to be slow-moving from this distance, Ellina suspected a river of that size must carry quite the current.
A flutter in her chest. An eager, reaching thrill in her limbs. Ellina wanted to test the water for herself. She wanted to see just how strong that current truly was.
She began her descent down the roof, pausing long enough to glance back towards the city’s center. Though it was only midafternoon, the sky hung low, the sun hidden somewhere behind the clouds. The muted light made the day seem later than it was: an hour for calling children home and setting tables for dinner, for cozy blankets and warm fires, and four walls to shut out the night.
Ellina could have those things. She could turn around, rejoin their contingent, catch the end of the city’s welcome reception. Maybe even find herself a decent meal, something hot to warm her belly. But that would mean returning to the tavern, andthatwould mean a new crowd of faces to pick her apart. It would mean restraint and confinement, judgment and side eyes and the itchy, cobwebby feel of mutters skittering up her skin.
And, Ellina admitted to herself, it would mean watching Venick and Harmon playacting the happy couple.
Ellina had known to expect that. She had envisioned it, even, in an attempt to armor herself against its sting: Venick holding Harmon’s hand. Venick pulling out Harmon’s chair. Venick and Harmon smiling, toasting, sharing each other’s space. Ellina understood the political purpose of such displays. Harmon had explained it all quite clearly in Parith, back when the two of them had come to a sort of truce. At the time, Ellina found herself agreeing with Harmon’s reasons—itwouldbe better if the Elder’s daughter and the lowland Commander pretended engagement. Itwouldsmooth a path for this alliance, show that their leaders were willing to guide by example. The mainlands had been infighting for decades. Many lowland soldiers had fathers or sons or friends who had been killed by highlanders and vice versa.So how,Harmon had asked,do we get them to put all that hate aside in order to battle as brothers in arms?The woman had drummed her fingers along her thigh, then turned the hand over, as if offering a present.We take a shortcut.
Ellina knew this. She should not be bothered.
Yet she wasbothered. Despite its logic, the thought of watching Venick and Harmon together made Ellina cringe with embarrassment…though whysheshould be embarrassed, Ellina could not say.
She dropped off the granary roof, crouching low to absorb the impact, one hand jutting down for balance. Her shoulder gave another twinge; it would ache in the morning, but then, it always ached. Ellina did what she normally did and ignored it.
She started towards the river.
People streamed around her. There were farmers hauling hay and goatherds driving goats, nannies and marketers and vagrants and soldiers. Some of those soldiers were elves, easily identified by their hair and their height, but many more were human, easily identified by…everything else.
It struck Ellina how different humans were from each other. Some were wide and some were skinny, some had missing teeth or beards, warts or birthmarks, orange hair or black hair or yellow or brown. They spoke in different accents, dressed in different colors. Their expressions, too, were all unique. Even a simple smile might look different from person to person, depending on the face. Ellina thought about elvish, how vital inflection was to that language since elves did not allow facial expressions to color their words. Humans were not constrained in this way; expressionswerewords, each stamped with a person’s identity, revealing their thoughts as if written on paper.
That was useful…usually. Now, though, as Ellina moved across a thoroughfare towards the residential district, she decided that she would not mind the humans learning a bit of elven composure. If the citizens of Igor knew how to shutter their thoughts, maybe Ellina would not have to watch as they caught sight of her, their eyes drifting first to her simple elven armor, then to her dark hair, her face. She would not have to see the moment of recognition, or how recognition soured their expressions with contempt.
Ellina ducked her head, doing her best to avoid eye contact. She told herself that their contempt was no matter. She told herself that she had survived worse. Yet her heart felt suddenly smaller.
She carried that feeling—like her heart had curled into a shell—with her the rest of the way to the river. It was only when she reached the water that some of her pain seemed to ease, her mind drawn to the object before her. The river was larger than Ellina had first thought, as wide across as ten roads and farther-reaching than she could see. More curiously than that, it was steaming, not with winter mist but with… vapor?
Ellina crouched at the river’s edge, dipped a finger down to the first knuckle. The water was blood warm. A hot spring, maybe, though Ellina had never seen one of this size. Its surface was vacant. No boats. No people. No one bathing or washing or fishing. Ellina circled her finger in the water, mulling over explanations—
“Hey, you can’t touch that!”
—when the answer planted itself in front of her.
The woman before her was nearly as wide as she was tall, dressed in stained overalls and hash-marked leather boots. A quick glance at her waist and thighs confirmed she was unarmed, though there were scars across her meaty knuckles that suggested violence. A brawler.
“What are you doing, touching the water?”
Ellina came to her feet. Judging by the woman’s severity, Ellina had just broken a city rule, though why touching the river was not allowed, she did not know. She held up her hands anyway, giving her best impression ofapology.
“Will you not speak?” The woman’s voice rose. “Only initiated warriors are permitted to touch the river. This is sacred ground!”
Ellina made the motion again, uncomfortably aware of the attention their confrontation was drawing.Apology. No harm intended.
The woman’s face colored. “Are you mocking me?”
She made a grab for Ellina’s arm. Ellina slapped the hand aside, reflex-quick. She saw the contact register in the woman’s eyes. Heard it, in the mutters of nearby onlookers. Out of sight, a dog began barking. The bystanders converged. Ellina realized that while the woman carried no weapons, most of the rest of these people did.
“Tell her how it is, Helda,” someone jeered.
“The princess thinks she’s above human laws.”
“She thinks she’s too good to speak to us!”
