Vaskel scowled at Tarrel, his protectiveness of Lira flaring. “Why haven’t you made yourself known to Lira?”
The elf blinked slowly. “I was waiting for the right moment.”
“The right moment? How long have you known about her?”
“Since she was young, I suppose.” The elf’s placid brow wrinkled. “But decades are a blink of an eye to an elf.”
Thrain huffed out a breath and muttered some unflattering words about elves under his breath so only Vaskel could hear him.
“Well, your sister is all grown up,” Vaskel said. “While you were blinking your eyes, she grew up without parents or siblings, lost the gran who raised her and set out on her own to make something of herself, which she did. Now she’s built a life and a home and is about to get married.”
“That’s right,” Thrain added. “So don’t think you can waltz in like no time has passed.”
Erindil shifted from one foot to the other, flitting glances at his nephew. “I told Tarrel that humans might not understand the way we move through time.” The elf lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s not as grounded in the ways of the greater world as I am.”
Vaskel didn’t imagine that there could be a creature less grounded than Erindil with his ornate robes and battle ostrich.
“I have no intention of causing trouble,” Tarrel said, his voice smooth and unflustered. “I merely heard talk of a hellkin crew in Wayside and wanted to keep an eye on things.”
“You heard about Marina’s crew?” Vaskel asked.
Tarrel nodded. “I overheard her talking to an old man in a tavern. It was clear that she didn’t have good intentions, so I followed her and her fellow hellkins.”
“Wait.” Vaskel held up a hand. “You’ve been here this whole time?”
“He has.” Erindil’s smile slipped, and he looked down his long nose at Tarrel. “He didn’t alert me to his presence, either, although there is plenty of room in my encampment. And don’t say you’re too good for my tents.” Erindil waved a hand at his nephew’s attire. “I see how you’re dressed.”
Unless Vaskel was mistaken, Tarrel actually rolled his eyes. Maybe elf families weren’t so different after all.
“Hold up,” Thrain said, wagging a finger in Erindil’s direction. “You said you were looking for Cali? Where is she?”
The elf’s face drooped. “I didn’t find her. Of course, I hadn’t searched every corner of the castle before I stumbled into my nephew. Then we heard the explosion down here and came running.”
Vaskel swore quietly. He couldn’t return without Cali.
“I can search room by—” Thrain started, but his words were cut off by a yowl from a corner of the dungeon that was dredged in shadows.
“Cinders and dragon dung. Where am I?”
Vaskel would know that voice anywhere. “Cali?”
The pantheri ambled into the light, her fur rumpled and her whiskers bent. She eyed the rust-flaked iron bars in front of her, then her black pupils grew even larger as she peered beyond the bars to the assemblage in the dungeon. “What in Grognick’s beard is going on?”
Malek roused himself from the ground, giving a shake of his head as he sat up cross-legged. “Ah yes. I suppose now is the time to tell you that Caliqua has been here all along.”
Vaskel shot a dark look at the mage. “You couldn’t have mentioned that sooner?”
Malek twitched a shoulder. “She was fine, and it didn’t suit me to reveal her whereabouts right away.”
Thrain swiveled his head, spied a hook on one wall with a ring of keys, yanked it down, and hurried to the cell door. “Good to see you again, Cal.” He jammed a key in the crusty lock, pulled open the door, and held it for her. “No hard feelings about Marina or about the duel we almost fought.”
“What?” Cali rubbed her head. “We almost fought a duel?”
Vaksel put an arm around her shoulders, ignoring Thrain. “You okay?”
The pantheri gave a slow, deliberate nod of her head, then her gaze landed on the unmoving form of Marina. “She’s trouble.” She shook a raised claw in her direction. “I almost fell for her too, but I overheard her talking about her plans for her new crew. I wanted no part of that.”
“I thought you missed adventure,” Vaskel said.
