Page 108 of Rogue Elves of Ardani

She realized he was talking about her empathy. “As many times as I need to.” She winced. Her jaw ached when she spoke.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t. It’s really unpleasant.”

She shook her head. “You’re pathetic.”

“How’s that?”

“You find him as repulsive as I do, and you’re still doing his bidding.”

“And what’s your excuse? Couldn’t you have had me attack him just now? You had your chance, and you were too afraid to go through with it.”

“Fear is not what’s holding me back, Toreg,” she growled.

“Crow,” Patros called. They both jumped as he appeared in the doorway again. “Come. We need to prepare for your associate’s arrival.”

Chapter 31

After deciding that Patros was most likely expecting him and the front door was probably guarded, Vaara opted to find another way inside the manor.

There were no windows on the first floor. But, circling around the manor, he found an iron trellis against a wall, just beneath a window on the second floor. The metal rods were thin and rusted through in some places, but when he tested his weight on it, it held.

He waited and listened before he started climbing.

He made it all the way to the window, pushed it open, and then, just before he’d reached safety, the metal under his foot dissolved into flakes of rust.

The trellis went out from under him, snapping first under one foot and then in other places, until the entire thing was falling apart. His sword fell from his hand and tumbled to the ground below as he grabbed at the window frame. There was a scrape and a soft thud as the trellis fell to the ground.

He hissed out a vivid curse. Steeling himself, he tightened his grip on the window sill and managed to climb through. By the time he’d dumped himself rather ungracefully on the floor, he was exhausted.

He was certain there had been a time when he’d been able to do things like this without so much trouble. He’d once stalked a dozen sun elves through the forest for days, picking them off one by one, by himself, without any of them ever spotting him. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. It was no astonishing feat—just what was expected of any Varai.

He peered out the window at his sword on the ground far below, then looked at his worn hands, taking note of his sore muscles and ragged breath.

Goddess preserve him. This situation needed mending. He couldn’t go on like this, as a mere shadow of his former self. He would have to start doing physical training again as soon as this was all over.

Maybe Crow would be willing to be his opponent while he practiced with a sword. The image made him smirk to himself. She could stand to be knocked on her ass a few times. Maybe it would help tame her ego.

Miraculously, the noise of the falling trellis didn’t seem to have drawn attention. He was in a large room filled with books and chairs, all polished wood and expensive-looking fabrics, albeit incredibly dusty. There was a fireplace against one wall. He picked up a poker from the rack beside it and went into the hallway.

He heard no voices. The halls were dark and silent except for the wind that howled softly around corners and through doors.

As he crept through the house, the eerie quiet put him on edge. He was not normally one to fear the dark, of course. Darkness and silence were calming. Night was his element. But there was something about the dark stillness of an Ardanian house that seemed wrong. It felt dangerous. It felt like a trap. Like something might be waiting for him around every corner, behind each door. Something was coming, and he didn’t know what it was.

He was startled when he came upon the manor’s large foyer and found three figures awaiting him near the front door. They were stiff and quiet, clearly anxiously anticipating something. For a moment they looked like statues, or ghosts.

He faded into the shadows as he padded toward them, keeping his back to the wall to avoid the light of the lantern in the middle of the room. He recognized the closest figure, Toreg, from the day they’d met at Patros’s house, and beside him was the man he’d seen in the mirror—Patros himself.

Crow stood some distance behind them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Vaara watched her closely. She looked miserable, but physically all right. She was alive, at least.

She turned toward his side of the room, watching the shadows. There was a reddish mark on her perfect face, like someone had hit her recently.

He hadn’t thought he had it in him to feel rage on Crow’s behalf, but he felt it right then. Fury swept through him. His fingers tightened on the iron in his hand.

Toreg was closest. So Vaara stepped toward him, raising the poker to strike.

They all spotted him as soon as he moved away from the shadows and into the light.

“Vaara, stop!” Crow shouted.

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