ELENA:
Rifthold in true spring unfurled before them, crisp and bright and traced in sea air.
The carriage rattled over the lane, weaving unmarked through the crowds. Spring festival season was upon them again, and the streets were draped in pennants celebrating the peace of the Gathering and the changing of seasons. Market vendors lined roads filled with travellers and locals alike, and the harbour was full as summer came knocking, hovering just over the horizon, deep with promise.
Elena watched the city unwind, a hundred hues and a thousand faces. She'd grown up memorizing Orynth, but Rifthold was hers in a way that surpassed understanding. Illia may love it here, but Elena had memorized it-memorized it and knew its' stubbornness and vivacity and bitter history more intimately than she could put into words.
The king was quiet across from her, watching his city pass with a soft smile tracing his mouth. Dorian had laid down bricks in the new Royal Theater himself. He'd worked alongside his family to put down the foundation of the Torre. He was known to stroll through the streets and travel them as he did now, in an unmarked carriage, simply to be a part of the city he had helped rebuild.
The Westfalls were going home in their own carriage. Elena suspected Dorian had ridden with her for the silence. There was very little of it to be found in her mother's palace, or on the journey here with their family. Silence was one of Lena's better known traits.
They were nearing her darkened corners of the city-the warehouses that hugged the Avery, not-quite-adjacent to the slums, still shadowed by the spires of the palace. Lena watched Dorian look up at his looming with clear trepidation. Manon would be tending her own kingdom for at least a few more weeks, and Dorian was still going home to an empty house tonight.
"No one bought any food," Lena said, her gaze still on the window.
"Mm?"
"At the house. No one ever buys any food. So you'll have to face my company for dinner."
A smile twitched at Dorian's lips. "I think I'll endure."
"I'll be in and out of my room in the castle, if it's all the same to you."
"You're always welcome, Lena." She was. Elena was almost the Havilliard family's resident ghost at this point-a wandering spirit that flickered in and out, occasionally pausing for interaction or disruption, communicating in odd ways at odd intervals, nearly always welcome. It made Lena's parents happy to know she had somewhere safe and supervised within Rifthold. When she'd left home at sixteen, to move here, it had been part of their conditions.
Dorian said, his eyes on the slowly emptying streets around them, "As Gatherings go, this one had a surprisingly low body count."
"I was overtired," Lena said.
Dorian half smiled. "Hardly any scandals and only one near-hurricane."
Lena glanced towards him. He was measuring what she knew. She said, "We all have our bad days. Our own demons to face."
Dorian nodded.
"Illia told you something," Elena said. Not a question.
Dorian nodded again, not meeting her gaze. He said, "I suppose you have your own theories."
"She cannot tell me this story without telling everyone," Lena said. "But I won't pretend I'm not the person she would go to."
"Out of all them, you could stand it best."
"And how are you standing it?"
Dorian exhaled. "I don't know yet. Did you...know? Six years ago?"
Elena tilted her head. The memories flickered back-made faint by distance and how young she'd been at the time, but still, her sense of Illia's emotions, of Illia herself, had been pulled, tugged, twisted, and had cut off entirely for a few terrifying minutes.
She'd known then that something beyond words had happened. Then Illia had walked back in veiled as always-but with a new layer to the mask. One that cut so deep that she never removed it, not even for Elena. And what could Lena do, when Illia was so very good at pretending to be fine, when she wasn't ready to speak?
"I knew part of it," Elena whispered.
Dorian ran a hand over his face, exhaling. "I can think of no one less deserving. And she's right-I don't know what Rowan and Aelin would do. I cannot imagine enduring all of it to build a safe future-only to have your legacy endure the same trauma."
Dorian was unwittingly handing Elena confirmation of her puzzle pieces-chapters in a story too terrible to reconcile. She was tempted to let him go on talking, but the carriage was slowing as they neared the alleyway where she'd asked to be dropped off. It also occurred to her, as they halted slowly, that Ander was also about to do what his father before him had done: give up someone he loved, for the sake of his country.
"I'll leave my luggage with you for now," Elena said. "I'll be home tonight."
Dorian nodded. "Be safe."
There were other words here, hovering, unsaid. Lena paused in the carriage doorway. "Dorian," she said quietly. "Watch your slave trade."
Dorian's eyes flicked to hers, instantly aware of the shift. "Anything else?"
"Don't dismiss strange occurrences."
"This is what Ander left for."
Lena nodded slightly. Then she said, "Are you really going to let him marry someone else?"
Dorian shook his head."I can't choose her for him. And I cannot erase all the history in their way."
"You and my mother don't give a shit about history."
Dorian half smiled. "You're not wrong. I expect a full report on your findings, Lady Princess. Anything concerning my country is my business."
Lena tilted her head. "And that, Your Majesty, is why you're a great king. Don't give yourself any more grey hairs. I love it here, too."
She swung out of the carriage. Dorian said, "I do not have grey hairs."
"See you tonight," Lena said.
"Elena," he said, and she paused, turning back to him.
"Don't die," said the king.
Lena smiled. "I'm a Galathynius. We are notoriously hard to kill."
.
Elena's feet tracked the familiar path to the safehouse by the river with ease and she let herself in the back door. While not exactly expected, the Gathering had ended publicly weeks before, and Lydia and Saran were both aware of when she would have left.
The house smelled of cedar and sea air. She paused to listen to all the sounds of the clapboard home. Children's feet, two or three pairs, danced a floor above, accompanied by voices and calls. Someone laughed in a bedroom upstairs. The air was deep with the scent of rich, spicy food. Papers shuffled in Saran's office as he solved puzzles of origin and trade. Elena moved soundlessly down the hall until she stood in his doorway, the dark-haired young man surrounded by a mass of papers, muttering to himself for several moments before he became abruptly aware of her and jumped visibly.
Lena smiled.
"Shit's sake," Saran gasped, clutching at his chest. "Your Highness."
"Hello, Saran."
"Welcome back," he wheezed, tumbling into the chair at his desk. He waved vaguely at her, still attempting to slow his heart. "Home was-fun?'
"One word for it."
He nodded, shaking his head. "I've just lost several years off my life, Princess."
Elena had to smile. "You missed me."
"Missed you hauling in fresh rescuees by the dozen every night? Not particularly. It's been quiet." Saran sighed. "I miss quiet."
"Have we heard of any more illegal trade?"
Saran sharpened. "Not anything of designated proof, but Lydia has been collecting whispers around Harkness house."
That was a prominent family, and until recently, a loyal one. Elena's spine tingled. "I'll listen for the whispers. And what of the house?"
Saran straightened his glasses. "Accounts are all in order-as always."
"Gods bless you."
Saran waved a hand. "Numbers are easy, Lady Princess. People are complicated. We have the family from the southern continent here, a pair of cousins from Fenharrow staying while they begin work as accountants, and Sarai is about as well."
At the mention of the Eyllwe girl's name, something with wings flickered through Lena's stomach. She blinked at herself. "How are her hands?" she asked aloud.
"Oh, those. Quite well, I think. She's staying while she sees the healers at the Torre-she was connected with one of Yrene Westfall's acolytes, since Yrene wasn't here-as you would know. Then Sarai's hoping to return to her music."
"Does she have an instrument?"
Saran shook his head. "It was lost when she was taken. We sent sixteen people home while you were gone, and found another eight work positions."
Elena nodded. "Where's Lydia?"
"In the kitchens."
"I'm collecting some things and then I'm going back to the castle," Elena said. "Neither of you need anything here tonight?"
"What are you collecting?"
"Things," Lena said shortly.
"We're quite fine here, Lady Princess. Lydia took the Fardeeps to get food this afternoon. They're why the house smells so good."
"So everything is well in hand."
"Quite so, Lady Princess."
Elena nodded, turning to leave. Saran cleared his throat. "Princess Elena?"
Lena turned. Saran gestured sheepishly to his own ears. "You're still, um…"
Right. Elena shifted, a brief and dazzling flash of light, the pointed ears and canines disappearing as she slipped back into human form-and her mercenary life.
"Thank you," she said.
"Anytime," Saran said, and returned to his paperwork.
.
Elena passed through the halls like a shadow, observing the quiet and contented scenes around her. She found Lydia in the kitchens surrounded by steaming pots and the heavy scent of spices, rich even to Lena's human nose. "Lady Princess," Lydia said, smiling. "Returned to us safely."
"Of course. How is everyone here?"
"Oh, very well, Lady Princess."
Lena got on with what she actually wanted to know. "Where's Sarai?"
"Oh, upstairs."
"Thank you, Lydia," Lena said, and left the kitchens. Her fingers brushed her ears as she slipped upstairs, ensuring they weren't pointed anymore. People called her Flicker on the streets, but no one had drawn the line from the odd flashes of light which occasionally heralded her appearance to Fae shifting.
Everything was always easier before anyone knew who she really was.
When she knocked on Sarai's door, it felt as if no time had passed at all. "Come in," came Sarai's voice, and Elena opened the door.
Sarai sat on the bed, dressed simply in blue, her dark head bent over a book she was reading with great concentration. Elena looked at her and realized suddenly that she was in well over her head.
Sarai looked up, and broke into a smile, and said, "Elena."
And in that moment Lena knew she was never going to get over this girl.
"You're back," Sarai said, unfurling from the bed with a smile. Elena barely remembered to smile back. Her heart was loud in her chest as she shut the door behind her. They stood there looking at one another, and Lena could have sworn she was blushing, which was not a thing Elena Galathynius had ever done in her life.
"I'm back," she said, utterly unnecessary. Then, "How are you?"
"Far better," Sarai said. "How are you? How was your home?"
"Well," Elena managed. Sarai sat down on the edge of her bed again, invitation clear. Elena joined her, painfully aware of every inch of her body-of Sarai's knee near brushing against hers. "How are your hands?" Elena asked.
Sarai held out her hands, slender and scarred, in invitation. Elena reached out carefully and ran her fingertips gently over Sarai's palms. The tight muscles and torn skin had vanished under Torre care, leaving faint silvery markings over soft skin. The contact sent shivers down Lena's spine. What is happening to me? When had she started turning into Mary?
"They look beautiful," Lena said, which was not a word she had used in a very long time. She swallowed. "What-what have you been up to?"
"Healing," Sarai said, smiling. "And Lydia has been working on my Adarlanian with me."
"It's very good."
"It will help me when I am finally better," Sarai said. "And can play my music again. Or go to work. But-I did not want to go before you returned."
Something in Elena's chest flickered to life like a star. "I'm glad you waited."
"Have you been on an adventure?"
"Only inasmuch as my family is their own adventure. And now I have work to do." Do you like girls like this? Do you know I am not just a girl? How could she-but how couldn't she? Elena inhaled and plunged into instinct. "Would you like to find trouble with me?"
Sarai blinked. "Trouble?"
"Yes," Lena said. "Literal trouble."
This was flirting, right?
"Namely," Elena went on, "I'm investigating a series of strange occurrences which may or may not be connected to an outbreak of dark magic."
"Elena, who are you?"
Elena shook her head. "That's a little too complicated."
"People like to underestimate you, don't they?"
"It is a national pastime," Elena said, although Sarai would not know why that was funny-or that it was true. Back home she was the "Little Princess"-the girl of pink and roses, the unexpected addition to a family of warriors, easy to perceive as sweet, and soft. Home was the only place where Elena got to be sweet and soft. It was also the only place where they did not fully comprehend what she was capable of.
Elena didn't know which she preferred. At some point she had gotten buried beneath other people's perceptions.
"Is it enough to know that I am doing what I know is good?" Elena asked.
"Are you doing those things by illegal means?"
"You do remember how we met?"
Sarai tilted her head. "What do you expect of a musician from Eyllwe's wild? Why would you want me to help you, when you rescued me?"
"In a turn of events I could just as easily have been swept off of back streets against my will."
"I do not think anyone could lay a hand on you without your consent."
"In a foreign country where I knew no one and was still learning the language, they might." Elena tried not to think too much about Sarai's hand still resting near hers.
Sarai said, "Some of us are not warriors."
"No," Lena said. "Some of us are spies and thieves and clever and brave. Some of us can leave everyone and everything we've ever known to journey to a place we have never been, just because our hope is strong enough."
Sarai were flecks of gold buried within the deep brown of her eyes. It made her skin seem luminescent. Eyllwe women wore their hair in intricate rows of tiny braids, and Sarai had wound her own long strands of braids into another plait down her back, the ends of her hair wound in little gold beads Lena absurdly wanted to reach out and touch.
Oh, gods, please, please, please feel this way about women.
"That's very kind," Sarai said softly.
"I want you to come with me because I want you to come with me," Elena said, stumbling over the words. "That is-you are enough because you are enough. And I want to spend time with you."
"Doing something illegal."
"Maybe," Lena said.
Sarai considered this. She was one of those people who carried their intelligence in all of the lines of their body. It flickered in her eyes as she thought and in the bird-like movements of her hands as she examined Lena with those beautiful, all-seeing eyes.
Elena could actively feel her good sense leaving her body.
"If I am to do illegal things with you," Sarai said, which was unbelievably attractive of her, "then I want to know who you are."
Elena felt some of the bubbles leave her bloodstream. "That is complicated."
"How complicated can it possibly be?"
"Sarai," Lena said. "You truly cannot imagine."
"I cannot trust someone I do not know, Elena. Especially in a situation like this. Why do you know Yrene Westfall? How have you afforded this house? Why should I follow you into dangerous territory?"
"Do you want to?"
"Yes," Sarai said, clearly unchecked.
Elena smiled. Sarai smiled back. It made all of her glow.
Elena said, "For every day you are with me, you could ask me one question. Any question. And I promise I will answer honestly."
Sarai arched a dark brow. "What is to stop me from asking who you are? Or another obvious question?"
"Your sense of adventure and the fact that I will not answer unfair questions. I-I wish I could tell you everything, Sarai. But it is better if you know me before you know the whole truth. And I need to know that I can trust you, too."
Though gods, how Elena wanted to. She'd never wanted to just-trust someone in her life. Her understanding of those around her was too keen. The brushing of her siblings-Mary's wandering soul, Gav's wildfire energy, the stories wound deep into Brigan's heart, the storm that was Illia-they were what she could trust. They had taught her far more about the nature of a person than anyone else. They were part of the reason she did not seek companionship outside of her family. She would never know anyone like she knew them.
But she wanted to know Sarai like that.
Sarai studied her for a long moment. Elena's heartbeat echoed in her human chest. Then:
"Why do you know Yrene Westfall?" Sarai asked.
Something in Elena released. "She and my mother met when they were young," she managed. "Then their paths crossed again."
Sarai half smiled. "Do I not get any more details?"
"Tomorrow," Elena said.
The sky was darkening already.
"I have to go," she managed. "Someone is expecting me." Sarai's hand was still brushing hers. Lena didn't want to move.
"Where will you go?" Sarai asked.
Lena shook her head. "One question."
"It's not an unreasonable question to ask."
"I stay with my uncle when I am in Rifthold," Lena said.
"Is he your real uncle?"
Lena smiled. "Nice try."
Sarai grinned. Then, "Will you be back tomorrow?"
"Yes," Elena said. "I have a list of black market shops to check into."
"And I am coming with you?"
"Aren't you?"
"Yes," Sarai said. "I am."