Page 52 of Rogue Elves of Ardani

He watched her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he turned away.

She watched as he rolled aside and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. She sucked in a breath. His back looked horrific. Months of wounds were marked on his skin. Alexei’s anger was carved on him. That kind of rage didn’t come from nowhere.

“Why did he hate you so much?” she asked.

He stilled, then exhaled harshly. Crow thought it was a sound of distress, but when he turned around, he wore an amused smile.

“Could I… show you?” he asked.

Surprised, Crow sat up and offered her hand. He reached out and touched his palm to hers.

The memory flashed by in chunks, fragmented but still very intact considering it must have been many months old. He’d kept it fresh in his mind all this time.

Through Vaara’s eyes, she ran through the prison halls as alarm bells rang. He felt fear—and an unfamiliar flare of hope and determination that surprised her. By the time she’d met him, he hadn’t had any of that left.

His hands were already bloody, and he carried a stolen sword. He came to a hall that was blocked off by a guard. No—by Alexei.

They fought. Vaara wielded his sword with power and skill. He was bigger, stronger, and faster than she knew him to be. Fear flashed on Alexei’s face as he realized he was outmatched.

She saw Vaara’s sword come down. Alexei blanched, looking down at his hand as he stumbled backward. His hand was smashed and bloody, one finger completely severed and another mangled.

The memory faded away. Vaara withdrew his hand, smirking.

“You take pleasure in violence?” she said flatly, determined to appear unimpressed.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, I do. And now you have an idea of what I’ll do to you when I’m free of your curse.”

A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t dignify the threat with a reply.

Chapter 14

In the evening, as they made their way toward Patros’s property in the upper ring of the city, the streets were crowded and alive with activity. Markets, taverns, smoke lounges, brothels, dance halls, and theaters were open and busy. People peddled knickknacks on rugs on the sides of the road while others sold hot food at stands.

You got used to the commotion when you grew up in the city. Crow hardly noticed it. Vaara stared around, keeping his head low, and kept having to dodge around people as he tried to give everyone a wide berth.

“My lord! Do you have a moment to speak about our Dark Lady Moratha?” A man with a shaved head and a black robe had run up to Vaara and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Give me a rumor you’ve heard about her, and I’ll tell you why it’s untrue,” the man went on. “Did you know she is the guardian of all the hells? That she’s the only one protecting our plane from the demons of the fifth hell? That she is the bridge between mortals and the land of dead souls? She is our savior, not our executioner!”

Crow expected Vaara to shake the man off, but he’d gone tense and didn’t move. His face was turned straight down toward the ground. Crow’s eyes went to the hand on his arm.

She went to the man and unhooked his hand from Vaara, pushing him away for good measure. The man looked unfazed. He’d probably been pushed away fifteen times already that night. “Find another fool to sell your death cult to,” she said. The man moved on, and Crow turned to Vaara.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He gave her a sharp look. “Fine.”

She gave him a lingering look anyway. He kept walking, impatient. They rounded a corner, then another.

“So many people here,” he finally grumbled several streets later.

“It’s the biggest city in Heilune. What did you expect?”

He didn’t reply. It was a few seconds before Crow realized he wasn’t beside her anymore. She panicked for a moment before she spotted him again. He’d stopped a few steps behind, staring across the street.

“What are you doing? I told you not to stray away from me. If we get separated here, we’ll never find each other again.” She took his arm. “Come on.”

“Wait.” He stared across the street, unblinking, as if he’d seen something of life changing import.

Crow watched, and saw nothing of interest. A collection of shops and milling people, like every other street they’d gone down. “What?”

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