Elder: (The Elvish Trilogy, Book 2) by S.G. Prince

Author:S.G. Prince [Prince, S.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Summerhold Publishing
Published: 2020-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

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Venick found the highland woman sitting on a dry slab of tree bark at the edge of camp. He unstoppered the bottle and handed her the salve. “For your burns.” She took the small glass jar gingerly from his palm, brought it to her nose, and sniffed.

Venick crouched beside her. “I’d like to know your name.” When she gave no reply, he continued. “I want to help get you home, but I can’t do that if I don’t know anything about you. Who are you? What city are you from?”

The highlander’s gaze flicked to him, then away. Nervous, Venick had once thought, except they’d done this enough times now for Venick to notice that her eyes were too narrow to be nervous, her shoulders too rigid.

Not just nervous, he’d decided. Angry. Defiant.

Well, she had every right to be. She’d been imprisoned, beaten, burned. She’d watched her friends die at the hands of his people. And now here was Venick, asking for her secrets.

It wouldn’t be wise for her to share them. This woman wasn’t naive. She was a refugee in a foreign land, weaponless, defenseless. She knew better than to give away information that might put her fellow highlanders at risk. And Venick—despite having saved her life—was by no means a friend. As far as she knew, he was planning on taking her hostage himself. Maybe sending his army north to her homeland, finishing what his people had started.

“Alright,” Venick said. Then again, “Alright. You don’t have to answer. But I want you to know that you’re safe here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

He started to move away, but paused when his gaze fell, as if for the first time, to her black eye. Puffy skin, discolored, a mottled bruise forming up across her nose. Something about it nudged his mind, unsettling his thoughts in a way that he didn’t understand…until he remembered.

She was hurt, Rahven had said about Ellina. It was her wrists. They were bruised.

She fought in the stateroom battle, Venick had replied. Many elves were hurt.

Except, bruised wrists were an odd injury for battle. In fact, Venick could think of only one reason someone might suffer an injury like that…

A hot summer day in the southern forests. Ellina’s slender wrists outheld, a coarse rope, the knot used to bind them. Venick’s own hands restrained, blood roaring, knees pressed into the dirt.

The memory punctured, it went deeper. Venick’s fury. The tight clench of helplessness. How he’d been forced to watch as Ellina’s comrades turned her around and ripped open her shirt and tied her hands to a tree. A whip was set in Raffan’s grip. The lashes were red, and wept down her back.

She was not allowed to leave the palace, Rahven had said. We were supposed to report to Farah if she attempted to escape.

Escape. Like she was a prisoner.

As this last thought occurred to him, Venick recognized its danger. He squinted up into the cloudless sky and told himself to stop. He needed to bring

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