Chapter XXVI. Ellery
XXVI
ELLERY
WINTER
Ellery watched worriedly as Domenic ducked back into their private train compartment. “All right. Peak went to the sleeper car.” He slid the door closed and locked it.
“In that case, let’s—”
“Wait.” Domenic’s soundproofing enchantment seeped down the paneled wooden walls, ruffling the curtains. Then he collapsed onto the bench across from her with a haunted, red-tinged stare. “Okay. Now we talk.”
Their train hurtled south to Gallamere. Although the weak light of morning crept through the windows, neither of them had slept.
Kythion and the rest of the ghasts had vanished after Winter turned the alban tree, and the worst of the storm had vanished with them.
Yet even after Domenic and Ellery had reunited with Peak and the NDC, driving down the same highways that had taken them to the compound, several hours passed before they’d emerged from the fallen territory’s new border.
Now, Ellery’s fatigues were tattered and bloodstained, her feet blistered inside her combat boots. She was exhausted but unable to rest; starving but unable to choke down more than a few bites of food.
“I…” She swallowed. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Neither do I. I mean, twelve hours ago, we were talking about retaking the fallen territory. And now Winter doesn’t just have the North. It has, what—almost a third of the country?” Domenic slammed his fist on his own thigh. “What the hell just happened, El?”
“We lost. That’s what happened.”
The train car rumbled beneath them.
Ellery had fled Nordmere on a train much like this one, but instead of a quiet ride in a private compartment, she’d been packed in with other evacuees.
Mile after mile of anxious chatter and babies wailing and pained groans from the wounded.
The stench of sweat and grime and dried blood.
Ellery whiled away the hours trapped in a corner seat, peeling back strips of wood from her armrest.
But her fear then was nothing compared to what she felt now. She’d been so confident, so convinced of their inevitable victory.
So wrong.
“At least we got another prophecy piece,” she muttered finally.
Domenic choked out a laugh as he fixed his gaze out the window. “I still wish we could’ve told Peak.”
“Me too. But you know we can’t.”
“Do I? The man took on Kythion single-handedly. Do you really think he’s Summer’s traitor?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why aren’t we telling the Council?” he demanded. “Because we think it could be Iseul? Hanna? Glynn?”
“I’m not trying to make accusations. But if Summer’s traitor is a magician, which they probably are, then they’re most likely an Order magician. And they could be anyone. Even a Councilor.” Although Ellery kept her voice level, nausea rose in her at the thought.
“Yeah, but if it’s not any of the Councilors and we don’t tell them, we’re only fucking ourselves over.”
“I’m not saying we don’t tell them! I’m saying we need a strategy before we do. Some way we want this to play out.”
His leg jittered. “And what way is that?”
“I was hoping we could figure that out together.” Ellery hesitated. “I know we lost. But we’re not doomed. I mean, we learned that the Dire Three have names like wands. That they’ve got Living Wand counterparts. We should tell the Council that, at least.”
“Yeah,” he said solemnly. “They should know what they might be wielding.”
“And have you thought more about … about our wands?”
Domenic drew Valmordion and studied it carefully: the whorled fingerprints, the gnarled wood, the thorns. “Val doesn’t feel like some kind of Summer monster. It doesn’t feel like anything.”
Ellery drew her wand, too.
“Neither does Iskarius,” she said softly. “As far as I can tell, there’s no ghast inside. Its magic is gigantic, but it’s my magic. There’s no difference between me and it.”
That notion was as disturbing as it was relieving. But even if Iskarius was somehow different, the implications of their discovery might be tremendous; for their understanding of Winter magic, for Alderland as a whole.
They both sheathed their wands. Then Ellery reached forward and squeezed Domenic’s hand. His throat bobbed, and he squeezed back tightly, so tightly, and the terrible ache in her chest eased slightly, so slightly.
Then he slid his hand back.
“No, we’re not doomed,” he said firmly. “But we can’t lose again, not ever. We can’t fuck up. We can’t get distracted.”
From the way he said “distracted,” Ellery knew exactly what he was talking about.
“We were careless, yes,” she agreed. “But do you really think that’s why we lost? There were hundreds of people at the compound, including Peak. The winterghasts surprised us all.”
“I’m not saying it’s our fault, but I don’t want to risk it ever being our fault because you and I…” His gaze skittered away from hers.
“Right.” Ellery’s voice sharpened. “Sure. I get it.”
“No, you don’t,” he said hastily. “I’m not … I don’t want to do this. This is the last thing I want. But what we want—it doesn’t matter, does it? Until we beat this thing, we need to be who everyone needs us to be. We need to be heroes.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’ve spent the past five years trying to be what everyone—” Ellery cut herself off, her cheeks burning. He knew. He knew everything. “Forget it.”
“It’s just, I-I haven’t always been the hero.
” Domenic’s words stumbled over one another, high-pitched and strained.
“And I thought I forgave myself for not moving that day. I thought I was different now. But being tangled in bed while everything went to shit? That doesn’t feel different. And I have to be.”
But Ellery felt different. No—Ellery was different.
How na?ve to think he might feel the same, to believe she might have changed him just because he’d changed her.
“You know what?” she said hoarsely. “You’re right. We don’t have time for some fling.”
He flinched. “No, El, th-that isn’t what I—”
“Please, just … just stop.” Ellery forced back tears.
She’d cried in front of him before, but the thought of it happening now was unbearable.
“I don’t need you to spare my feelings. In fact, let’s just take the feelings out of it.
” She slid Miss Perfect on, expression steeled, posture straight, voice steady.
“It’s like you said. We’ve been distracted long enough. ”
“I…” Domenic’s hand clasped over his mouth. He tugged it away, then stood abruptly, sniffling. “I’m gonna grab some coffee. Do you want any? No milk. Six sugars. Yeah, got it.”
He bolted from the compartment. The door slammed behind him.
Ellery curled in the corner of her booth. She worried her fingernail beneath the armrest’s mahogany varnish, then violently yanked back a strip of wood.
There was no place in her destiny for a broken heart.