Page 162 of Rogue Elves of Ardani

“I don’t need to think about it. I’m not interested.”

His smile disappeared. “Why not?”

“Does it matter? The answer is no. Step back from the gate, please.” He took a step back. Crow locked the gate behind her. “Don’t come back here. If I change my mind—which I won’t—I’ll find you.”

He looked skeptical. “Then what are you going to do? Close yourself up in this house forever?”

She shrugged. “Many opportunities await me. I have skills no one else in Valtos has, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” he said dryly.

She cleared her throat. Toreg had her in a vulnerable position. “I would also appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around that I’m Ashara,” she said.

“I’ve got no reason to do that, have I? If you’re going to be working with anyone, I want it to be me.”

“Good. Then I think we’re done here.”

He smiled as she walked away. “We’ll meet again,” he called after her.

“If you say so.”

She stiffly strode down several streets and around a few corners, going nowhere in particular, until she was certain he wasn’t following her. Then she slowed her walk, and watched the city go by. It was an activity she’d taken to lately, now that she had little else to do.

She passed by a dress shop, and stopped to peer inside at a wall of vibrant, intricately patterned fabrics. A young woman was sewing in the window. She glanced up at Crow, flashing a smile.

When she was a child, she’d wanted to make clothes—to be a seamstress, or to design textiles like the ones on the wall. But those people had years of education and practice, apprenticeships, and skills far beyond her own. She could never hope to catch up. It was a job that regular, respectable folk had. She was not regular, nor respectable.

Empathy was the only thing she was good at. She’d spent her life honing her skill in wielding it. And, if she was honest, she enjoyed using it.

What she had said to Toreg was true: There were countless possibilities for her, as an Ashara. But if she was going to make her living using empathy, she wanted to use it for something other than hurting people. She wanted to use it to benefit herself and people she cared for.

If only there was anyone in the city who she cared for.

She thought briefly of Vaara, and gave a quiet huff of irritation. She usually tried not to think of him, but she often did anyway, accidentally.

There was Sarna, who remained a friend, but had no use for an Ashara.

Then she thought of Aruna and Novikke, who had become unexpected friends in the brief time she’d known them—but as far as she knew, they’d been planning to leave Valtos, and had likely done so already.

But that gave her another idea.

* * *

It tooka while to recall exactly where the place was. After wandering for half an hour, she located it—down a flight of stairs in a nondescript alley.

She knocked on the door. It took longer than usual for someone to answer. Finally, the tiny panel in the door slid open, and a pair of violet eyes peered out at her.

“Crow?”

She gave a half-hearted smile.

The panel slid closed, and the door opened. Nero was on the other side of it. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

She clasped her hands in front of her, self-conscious. “Do you have to be with a night elf to come inside? That is, are former friends of Varai allowed, too?”

He frowned. “Not officially. But I’m willing to consider you a friend of mine for the purposes of granting you entry, as long as you aren’t here to cause trouble.”

She stepped into the dark room beyond the door. “When have I ever caused trouble?”

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