“We don’t need it!” Venick burst. “Maybe we did at first, but I’ve seen our warriors battle together. I’ve seen them learn from each other, adopt each other’s ways, form relationships. They don’t need us to hold them together anymore. They’ve already figured out that their differences are less significant than what they have in common. Let’s not pretend that’s notworthsomething.”
For the second time in as many minutes, Harmon looked perfectly stunned. There was a long moment when she merely stared at him, chin pulled back, fingers gripping the desk’s edge. Then: “I can see you feel strongly about this.”
“I do.”
“Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“No.”
Harmon gathered her papers, tapping them against the desk to line up their edges. Venick expected her to storm by, maybe spit names at him on her way out, so he was surprised—hell, baffled—when instead she came to sit on the front of the desk, her expression one of casual diplomacy. “We’ve retaken the city, as you’ve seen. It took two days, and cost us a fair number of lives, but—why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because.” Venick continued to eye her. “That’s it?”
“That’s what?”
“We’re just going to move straight to strategy? No argument? No big speech?”
“I think you’ve given enough speeches today for the both of us. But no, Venick. I’m not going to argue with you, and I’m certainly not going to bind you against your will. If you want to quit faking our engagement, we will.” That was guilt in her eyes, easier to pinpoint now, having seen her guilt before. She blew out a breath. “I really am sorry for what happened to Ellina. I couldn’t have known about the river. I’ll have to apologize to her. Again. And just when I was beginning to think she didn’t absolutely hate me.”
It wasn’t Venick’s place to speak for Ellina, especially not anymore. And selfishly, a part of Venick wanted Harmon to believe she was despised, to suffer some consequence for her lies. Gods knewtheyhad suffered.
This is bigger than you.
Venick found himself sighing, too. He was still angry with Harmon. He couldn’t trust her not to make more foolish choices for the greater good. But continuing to argue about it wouldn’t solve anything. It was like Dourin said: they needed each other.
“Ellina doesn’t hate you.”
“No.” Harmon gave a self-deprecating shake of her head. “She only thinks I’m completely evil.”
Venick set his hands loosely to his hips, squinted up at the ceiling. He studied a wobbly crack in the plaster and thought of things like redemption sacrifices and murdered parents and second chances. “You’ve made some stupid choices, Harmon.” Another sigh. “That doesn’t make you evil. Only flawed. Just like the rest of us.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Ellina did a quick sweep of the city, starting at the outer edge and working her way in. Bournmay trotted at her side, nose to the road, black coat rippling in the spring breeze.
Ellina was glad for Bournmay’s presence, especially there, especially then. It was strange to be back in this city. To remember the last time she had come here, when she was still legion-bound, and Venick was no one to her but a ragged outlaw. She felt the memories weave into her vision of this place, catching on the similarities…and the differences.
Battle had clearly taken place here. There was little left of the old market, the scene a mess of splinters and fragmented armor. Ellina saw a steel sword, snapped in half. Arrows, protruding from wood. Grey buildings and grey people, who were busy sorting through the debris, shoveling crumbled stone, trying to coax the space back into some semblance of normal. As Ellina turned towards the city’s central inn, her eyes skated from the workers down to their shadows, though this was more out of habit than any true concern. Ellina did not care how wily the conjurors had become—the idea that anyone might sneak a corpse through Kenath’s warrior wall was ludicrous.
As they turned towards the central district, Bournmay worked her head up under Ellina’s hand. The banehound was a predator by nature, often quiet, never nipping or wiggling. This—her head seeking to comfort, or perhaps to be comforted—was rare. Ellina pushed her fingers through Bournmay’s thick fur, encouraging the sentiment.
The inn had begun as a simple block of human masonry, meant to house passing travelers. Further work had wrought the building taller, wider, with additional details done in the elven style. Vendors and merchants lined its width, their stalls encircling the structure like rays around the sun. This section of Kenath was livelier than the rest of the city, everyone more at ease out of sight of the battle’s destruction.
When Ellina entered the inn’s wide, low-ceilinged great room, Dourin was the first to spot her. He tossed her a smile, tipping his head towards where he, Traegar, Branton, and Erol had pulled their chairs into a circle. The inn was busy but not crowded, groups of people milling about. There was a fireplace burning merrily on one wall. An enormous rug woven in iziri goat fur that was coarse, but better than cold stone. Mugs in everyone’s hands.
Ellina moved to claim the seat beside Dourin, pulling Bournmay into the space between her knees.
“It’s interesting,” Erol said, breaking off his conversation with Traegar to turn his eyes on Ellina. “That hound answers to both you and Venick.”
“Is that not normal?”
“Banehounds are meant to serve only one master. And…” Erol’s pause was brief, but unmistakable, “only humans.”
“What Harmon has done here is ingenious,” Lin Lill interrupted, appearing with a cane under one arm, her splinted foot thunking with every step. She plopped into the chair opposite Erol, ignoring the way he scowled at her injury. “The city is quite secure.”
“Who resplinted your foot?” Erol asked.
“I would have never thought to use bodiesto create a wall,” Lin Lill continued, ignoring the healer. “The elven legion does not have those kinds of numbers. You humans, on the other hand—”
