Ellina paused halfway up the stairs. Her blood hummed in anticipation.“You received my letter?”she asked in elvish.
“Clearly.”
“And my conditions?”
“Have all been met. I ordered my guards away from Revalti, along with all of our weapons. We will be meeting in private and may take as much time as needed. There is no one here, but us.”
Farah paused, as if waiting to see if Ellina had any more objections. When she did not, Farah’s smile returned. “Come, then.”
Ellina saw Farah watching her and knew they were both thinking the same thing. It was not too late for Ellina to turn back. She could abandon this plan, give up her hopes of reasoning with her sister, return to finish this war with blood and fire as it had begun. It did not matter what conditions Ellina set for this meeting—as soon as she entered the windowless fortress of Revalti, she would once again be at Farah’s mercy.
Ellina’s throat was dry. Her boots seemed too heavy for her feet. She licked her lips and heard herself say, “Lead the way.”
It was only later, when southerners swarmed into the manor and the trick in Farah’s words was revealed, that Ellina would remember that Farah had always been a liar, too, and the question was not whether the sisters would lie to each other, but who would do it better.
???
Venick rode swiftly with Dourin and a group of four others. The soldiers had been specially chosen for this mission, having proven themselves most adept in the skills of stealth and deceit. “Quick and quiet,” Dourin had said before starting off in the direction the Dark Army was last seen, as if discussing an amusing game rather than their own possible demise.
It was midday by the time they reached the thin crescent of trees that lined the road west of Kenath. Beyond, Venick could see a caravan of elves moving up the path, though at first he did not recognize them as the enemy. The southerners trudged along in a loose line, some in armor but most in civilian clothing, looking more like a haggard band of travelers than a fearsome army.
“The reports were right,” Dourin murmured, shifting to gaze through the trees. Overhead, the clouds continued to gather, shading the world grey. “This is not the Dark Army’s entire force.”
“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” said one of their members, a plainsland boy with a shock of red hair named Alfrick.
“That depends,” Dourin replied. “How many elves does it take to light a match?”
Venick pulled out a spyglass to peer at the approaching elves. None rode on horseback. Rather, their steeds had been grouped into pairs and harnessed to a series of covered wagons. The wagons were unmarked, their canvas tops stretched tightly over hidden contents, like skin over ribs.
Quick and quiet indeed. They’d need more than a little stealth to reach those wagons unseen, especially in the full light of day. Though Dourin had first suggested waiting for nightfall, Venick dismissed the idea; in order for their plan to succeed, they needed to act while there was still as much distance between those wagons and Kenath as possible.
Dourin met Venick’s gaze through the trees and lifted one perfect eyebrow—a movement that seemed to encompass both his estimation of their Commander as well as his own willingness to follow his lead—before turning back to Alfrick. “Do you believe in the gods?” Dourin asked. The young man nodded. Dourin returned his gaze to the approaching southerners. “Best you start praying.”
???
Revalti Manor was even darker inside than Ellina remembered. The chandeliers remained unlit, many of the candelabras missing from their corners. Those that remained provided only enough light to illuminate the nearest objects: an empty cabinet, a doorway, a suit of armor.
As Farah led the way through square corridors and up a flight of stairs, Ellina called forth her other senses, smell and touch and sound. There was a marble balustrade, cool under her palm. A hint of candle wax, light in the air. The patter of their own footfalls, soft as a breeze on the stone.
Despite its apparent disuse, Revalti was surprisingly free of dust; Ellina’s hands, when she ran them along sideboards or railings, came away clean. This was surely due to the ventilation system, which kept air moving through the rooms. Ellina did not know if Revalti’s original creators were human or elven, but they must have known that they could not make Revalti perfectly airtight, lest the smoke from fireplaces suffocate its occupants. And indeed, when Ellina and Farah stepped into a fourth-story corridor with a balcony overlooking the dining hall far below, Ellina could see the network of air vents set into the walls, some covered with decorative grates, others open, like the burrows of animals.
They reached a door at the end of the hall. Farah produced a key. While she worked the lock, Ellina reached out to touch one of the air vents. She slipped her hand inside, felt the gentle wash of air flow over her fingers.
“What are you doing?” Farah asked.
Ellina pulled back. “I am wondering why you chose Revalti as your hideout.”
“It was built for the elven queen.” Farah replied, pushing open the door. “Why should I not choose it?”
They entered a study, which appeared to double as a bedroom. Ellina could see the evidence of Farah’s occupancy, clothing draped over furniture, parchment scattered across the desk, a jar of oil, a file. Still no windows, but the candles were all lit, including a small one on the desk with little notches in its side to measure time. The candle was nothing but a nub, burning down to its final notch.
Farah shut the door.
“Lock it,” Ellina said.
Farah did, the bolt driving home with a definitivethunk.
“Well,” Farah said, sweeping out her hands. Her armor creaked with the movement, flakes of dried blood shaking free. “You have requested a meeting with your queen, and she had graciously accepted.”
