Page 153 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Apparently, I’m not the only one, because Naril snorts. “Oh wonderful, will we have the queen joining us in here too?” Sarcasm coats his words, but Tor gives me a rueful smile and half shrug.

“If I don’t get back, then probably,” the tribesman replies, his voice apologetic. Slowly closing the gap between us, he leans towards me and brushes his nose against mine. “Bye, Clarissa.”

“Bye, Tor.” My response is quiet, but I know he heard it since he smiles before hurrying out the door, shutting it behind him.

I’m surprised that Vaeril didn’t react to Tor being so close or make any comment about his slip with mentioning our connection, but I realise now that he’s completely still, like he’s holding his breath. Now that the tribesman has gone, he relaxes, his hold on me loosens, and he resumes his nuzzling into my hair, the steady purring starting up again in his chest.

Naril walks back over to the table and pulls out a chair, flopping into it and resting his head in his hands as if he’s exhausted. “Well, that was an entertaining lunch.”

After the drama of my hectic lunch, the quiet hush of the library is immensely welcoming. I’d known when I first walked in here that I’d like it, the peaceful atmosphere and the smell of old books making it feel like a safe haven. The three huge arched windows set into the back of the building make the space feel bright and airy, while there are still plenty of small reading spaces so it feels comfy.

Naril, my companion for the afternoon, just looks bored as he strides past the book-lined walls, seemingly oblivious to the beauty of the room. Whether that’s because books don’t interest him, or if his long lifetime has taken away the novelty, I don’t know.

A quick trip to the medical room was our first stop after lunch. They cleaned my wound, and I received a couple of stitches—something Vaeril had insisted on. Before that point, it had taken an hour to calm him down enough for me to even leave his arms. Eventually, we managed to convince him to go attend to his duties for the rest of the day, which apparently included joining the same meeting Tor ran out on. The queen isnot going to be happy when she learns I was the reason behind the disruption, and while Tor still had to play nice because of his role, Vaeril didn’t seem to care about upsetting her anymore. No one has mentioned Tor’s slip about our connection, and it’s almost like it never happened, but Vaeril has been off with me, his personality reverting back to how he had been back in the underground forge. My chest aches at this, but I’m hoping once he’s calmed down that will change.

I haven’t seen Eldrin since he stormed out of my chambers, which isn’t all that unusual as he seems to come and go as he pleases, but I can’t help but worry about him. He’s a complete bastard to me most of the time, but the expression on his face has stuck with me. The look of devastation followed by acceptance, like he’s realised that he’ll never have a connection with anyone like I do with Vaeril. I know the queen’s toxic attitude towards him doesn’t help with that, and I’ve seen the way some of the courtiers look at him—like he’s contagious and if they were to speak to him, they would catch the queen’s disfavour. Has he always been so impulsive and wild, or were his wounds from the war more than physical?

“You’re quiet this afternoon,” Naril comments from my side, and I realise he must have slowed and dropped back at some point, but my mind was so caught up on his twin that I hadn’t noticed. His words make me pause. Iamquiet, which is odd for me, at least it is now. When did I become so comfortable speaking? It wasn’t that long ago that I was a slave and didn’t speak for long periods of time, until I was blessed by the Mother. Even when I became Lady Clarissa, I didn’t speak often, only to my close friends. Vaeril and I never spoke a huge amount back in Arhaven, more comfortable in companionable silence. Tor brings it out of me more, he goads and encourages me, wanting to hear my thoughts on things. However, since I’ve come to Galandell, things have changed.

“I have a lot to think about,” I finally reply, turning my head to look over at him, raising an eyebrow as a thought comes to me. “Besides, don’t you have anything better to do than escort a human around the palace?” Meaning the words as a joke, I smile, but there’s a slight, unintentional bitterness in my tone. “What do you evendohere besides follow me around?” I tease, hoping to lighten the tension.

“Half human,” he corrects. “You need to start embracing your elf heritage. You’ll get eaten alive otherwise.” Although he says it lightly, I can hear the warning in his voice. He’s right, I need to stop referring to myself as human no matter how difficult it is. The person I thought I was for my whole life doesn’t exist, but it’s not easy to change that way of thinking.

We’ve slowed down now, meandering past the rows of books and small study spaces, taking the steps down to the lower part of the library where we first met Master Ardeth. Naril has gone quiet, but I can tell that what I said has got to him, and sure enough, after a couple of seconds, he glances over at me. If he had been a bird, he would be ruffling his feathers at the slight to his pride as I implicated that he was my babysitter.

“I am a lord.” His haughty voice makes me want to smile, but I stifle it, not wanting to offend him any further. “And as such,” he continues, “I serve the queen as she needs me.”

Humming in thought, I nod my head to acknowledge I’ve heard him, but I still don’t totally understand how the elves’ social structure works. “Then why aren’t you in hundreds of meetings like Vaeril? You’re both lords, right?”

“The queen uses us in different ways.” There’s something off about the way he says it, something that niggles in the back of my mind, and I’m about to question him on it, but he cuts me off before I can start. “Besides, Vae has been gone for a long time. The queen needs to know what happened, and he has to be updated on everything,” he reasons, and I have to concede thatwhat he says makes sense. “Not to mention the farce of a trial she’s putting him through.” Rolling his eyes, he huffs a breath. “He always was a favourite of hers though.” Again, the way he says this sets alarm bells ringing in my mind, although I couldn’t say why.

You’re just jealous,my thoughts goad me.You begrudge the queen for the time she takes Vaeril away from you.There’s an essence of truth in those thoughts. Idowish I could spend more time with both TorandVaeril, but there’s more behind it, I’m sure of it.

“We had a month of mourning when he disappeared.” He speaks so softly, I almost don’t hear him. Turning, I see Naril’s expression, and my heart drops.

“Can you tell me about it?” I ask equally as quietly. We’ve reached the study area now and head towards one of the large wooden tables.

“Vaeril, Eldrin, and I trained as soldiers, even though we were nobility,” he begins, taking a seat at the end of the table. I do the same, not wanting to miss any details of his story. “We worked through the ranks quickly. Eldrin was promoted earlier on and led his own legion—we didn’t see him for years. Then when he got captured…” He trails off, and I see a rare glimpse of pain on his face. Naril’s careful mask rarely ever slips, so I know these feelings must still be raw for him. As swiftly as it appears, his expression clears as he takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. “Well, that’s not my story to tell. Anyway, all soldiers are given a break from serving on the front lines, and Eldrin and I were rotated out of the army and were serving here at the castle,” he explains, and I nod in understanding. “Vaeril was given a special mission from the queen, and he disappeared.”

A special mission. What could that have been? Is that why she was so upset when we first arrived at the palace and she thought he was dead? I wonder if she feels guilty that she wasthe reason he got caught. Sure, she didn’t capture him, but if she hadn’t given him thespecial mission, then he wouldn’t have been there in the first place.You’re biased. We’re at war. He knew the risks and could have been killed at any time,my thoughts argue, and perhaps they’re right, but I still don’t like the queen.

Mirroring his earlier movement, I relax back in my chair, trying to think how to ask my questions sensitively. “You told me once before that you thought he was dead.”

Naril nods, reaching up and running his hand through his golden hair, messing up the usually neat style. It’s slightly shorter than his brother’s and always much better kept, but when anger flashes in his eyes, for a second, it’s like Eldrin is sitting in front of me. “We searched for him for years, both on the battlefront and in Arhaven.”

Shock courses through me as I suddenly lean forward, eyes wide. “Wait, you tried to enter the city?” Shaking my head, I blow out a surprised breath. “That’s a death sentence.” Arhaven is a sprawling, bustling city with too many people trying to live within its walls. Slums surround the outside of the walls, filled with those purged from the city, and they’re a dangerous place to be. Murderers, bandits, assassins, and worse lurk in the depravity, and regularly manage to slip into the city, mugging passing traders and visiting dignitaries. The elves would have stood out like a sore thumb, making themselves a target to both the undesirables and the soldiers who regularly patrol the streets.

“Yes, the city was easy,” he replies, brushing off my concerns with a shrug. “It was the castle we couldn’t get into.” Frustration lines his words. “We tried to listen for rumours, since an elf in the capital city is bound to cause stories, but there was nothing.” Frowning, he glances away from me as he stares at one of thebookshelves. I’m pretty sure he’s not actually interested in the books but is lost in his memories.

We sit in silence, and I’m not sure how much time passes, but I don’t want to interrupt Naril’s thoughts. Instead, I use the moments of quiet to process what he’s told me so far—how far they went to find their friend.

Out of the blue, he shifts his position and turns to face me once again. “One day, at the edge of our territory, his helmet was waiting for us,” he explains in a somber tone. “We don’t know how it got there or who put it there, but that was the blow we had been fearing.” His face twists in pain as his eyes shut, like every word he speaks wounds him. Although I know Vaeril is all right and I know the outcome of the story, the thought of him dying still hits me like a kick in the chest.

“That’s when the queen declared him dead, and for a whole month, we mourned him,” a different voice chimes in, a voice I recognise. Looking over my shoulder, I smile slightly as I see Master Ardeth making his way over to our table. “Hello, child,” he greets with a smile of his own. I’m still confused at what they mean about a state of mourning, but I don’t want to ask, not when Naril’s finding this so hard to talk about. Thankfully, I don’t have to inquire, as the master takes a seat at the head of the table, turning his attention to me.

“When a state of mourning is called, the whole city will dress in black and cover our faces. Candles are lit in respect. The family of the deceased will have a large candle that burns for the full thirty days in their home. Someone will have the job of tending to the candle, and it’s an important role. If the candle goes out before the time of mourning is up, we believe the soul of the deceased will never be able to rest, cursed to roam the land for eternity. In this case, the whole kingdom mourned. Vaeril was well liked,” the master explains in a steady voice, as heteaches me about the elves’ traditions like he can’t stop himself from falling into academic mode.

“Of course, that didn’t stop Eldrin and me,” Naril says with a wry smile. I don’t miss the quick, thankful look he gives Master Ardeth for giving him time to compose himself. “We knew that the humans were getting elven weaponry from somewhere. The queen thought they were just stealing it from our corpses on the battlefields, which I wouldn’t put past them—” Seeing my wince, he pauses, misunderstanding my expression for being upset at his slight to the humans. “Sorry,” he half-heartedly apologises, his expression a cross between a grimace and a grin. I’m not bothered by the fact Naril doesn’t like humans or his opinions of them. I’d knowingly entered a city of elves who hate humans, so it was a given that there would be some unsavoury opinions. The thing that made me wince and my heart hurt was the thought of all those people, elves and humans alike, dead and left in a field to rot.

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