7 Elowen
7 Elowen
Elowen wished she’d been born a teleportationist. This was now the third precarious situation she’d needed to escape in one
single day, and she had only her clumsy feet to help as she ran from the sight of Clare and Beatrice arriving at the inn.
All Elowen had wanted was to enjoy a nice, silent meal after her rigorous heart-healing session and intense conversation with
Vandra. She stole one single glance out the pub’s window, Ghosts only knew why, and there were two of the last people in all
of the realm that she wanted to see.
Elowen tossed her satchel of Domynia costumes onto the bed and locked herself in her room, breathless. Fucking Beatrice. What
was she doing traipsing around with Clare after all this time? Had they become lovers again? Did they plan to overshadow Thessia’s
wedding by publicly unveiling their own relationship?
Elowen had been reading too many gossip pamphlets. There was only so much to do in the trees. At some point, Elowen had developed a fondness for keeping up with other people’s relationships, and Claretrice still remained at the forefront of Mythria’s gossip cycle. From what Elowen had read, Beatrice was newly divorced, and Clare never kept a woman for longer than a week or two. Elowen didn’t know why she indulged in the Claretrice speculations when she knew firsthand how inaccurate the pamphlets could be. After all, they believed Galwell had been desperately in love with Thessia. The gossip pamphlets were practically shadow plays with how much drama and intrigue they injected into the stories they published. Perhaps Elowen took pleasure in knowing her questmates hadn’t found any real contentment in the years since their victory, even if it wasn’t all true. Reading about them certainly had nothing to do with wanting to keep up with their lives.
“Everything well?” Vandra called out as she knocked on Elowen’s door. She let her voice show no trace of the earlier hurt
she’d exposed. In a strange way, it made things worse, knowing how well Vandra could disguise her own pain.
Though Vandra had no officially known magic, Elowen found Vandra’s ability to always seek out the light even more powerful,
because it came not from a gift she’d been born with, but a choice she’d made and stuck to for the entirety of her life.
When Elowen did not answer, Vandra jiggled the handle. “I hope you know this lock stands no chance against me, though I’m
willing to humor its existence a little longer if you tell me why you’ve used it. Does it have to do with what we discussed
earlier?”
Elowen looked around the room for something heavy. There was only a bed and a dresser in the small space. Elowen pushed the
dresser with all her might, devastated to find that the sturdy wooden thing had no interest in moving.
“I’d like to have my dinner sooner rather than later,” Vandra continued. “I may be older and wiser now, but an empty stomach
still distracts me.”
“I eat my meals alone,” Elowen told her, lost in thought. The scribes would go wild if they knew Claretrice arrived together
at a countryside inn. Maybe Elowen could become a scribe informant? Then she wouldn’t need to go to Thessia’s wedding to reinstate
her hero’s salary.
No. She could never do that. Her own empty stomach was clouding her judgment.
When Vandra laughed, the sound jarred Elowen back to her current reality. She found herself regretting the door between them.
She couldn’t see the way Vandra threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, losing herself to every pleasure in life with
fullhearted commitment.
Ghosts. She couldn’t think like that. It would only make things worse.
“What’s so funny?” she hissed.
“Either you let me into your room, and we enjoy a meal together on the bed, seeing as there is no other furniture in there,
or you and I go to the tavern and dine,” Vandra replied. “Perhaps you don’t want to know me, but you do have to be around me. I can’t have you sneaking out of the window and roaming through the countryside alone. It will be a
tedious and unnecessary time killer for us both, and I don’t want to miss any of the pre-wedding festivities.”
Elowen pinched the space between her brows. She did need a drink. And she would never share a meal in bed with Vandra, despite
what her body sometimes told her to do. “What if someone out there recognizes me?”
Vandra laughed again, as if Elowen had told a joke. “If you ever took your eyes off the ground for more than a moment, there
might be a chance someone here would know it’s you, but you must have everyone’s footwear memorized by heart. No one can see
that lovely birthmark beneath your eye to confirm your identity. Of course your hair is well-known. Though you’re not the
only person in this realm to have luscious red curls. Yours do bounce more than the average Mythrian’s. Hard to say if that’s an opin ion shared by those who haven’t had the privilege of running their hand through your hair.”
Elowen shuddered, and not in distaste.
After a long pause, Vandra continued. “The cloak you’re wearing is the same one they use for all your portraits. And the way
you stomp about. It’s unforgettable. Such a forceful tread for one of the most notable heroes in the realm, famous for sneaking about
to defeat the darkness. Not to mention all those throaty sighs you let out, forever displeased. Utterly distinct. Could only
belong to you.”
It bothered Elowen that Vandra had noticed all of that. Elowen hadn’t been making eye contact so that people would pay her
no mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of playing the role of hero for the masses on a regular weekend. With the Festival
of the Four so near? It would be a legitimate nightmare, worse than anything the cursed forest offered up. Since she hadn’t
been gifted the ability to turn invisible, she did her best to go unnoticed instead. All it had done was grant Vandra the
permission to study her closer.
When Elowen looked to her satchel, inspiration struck. She put on one of the costumes.
Domynia’s pants were tight, made of faux-grawk skin, and they hugged Elowen’s curves like her body was a long-lost friend
of the fabric. The top was even more salacious. First, it was lilac, a shade Elowen never wore. Second, it squeezed around
her rib cage so much that her bosom spilled over the top, even with a gauzy white blouse beneath it. The people of Mythria
knew Elowen was stormy and wore thick cloaks and stomped about. Domynia’s cloak was lilac, too, matching her bodice. If Elowen
was so predictable, would she really wear this out to a crowded tavern?
She opened the door and strutted past Vandra, who wasted no time letting out a low whistle. She found the first open table and sat down, making a point to scan the crowd. From what she could see, Beatrice and Clare were not in this part of the inn. A small victory.
“People are certainly looking at you, but not because they believe you are—” Vandra hesitated, seeming to realize that saying
Elowen’s name aloud would be a bad idea. “Well, you.”
Good. The plan was working. Elowen’s heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat. Probably because of the heaving
bosom.
“I’ll order for us.” Vandra got up to head toward the bar.
“No,” Elowen snapped, reaching for Vandra’s hand. She wanted to prove she was not predictable. Or at least show that she was
self-sufficient. The jerky motion made the lilac cloak fall from her head, exposing her red curls. Out of habit, she grunted
in frustration, then stomped.
“Could it really be? Elowen of the Four?” someone whispered in reverence.
“I believe so,” another person confirmed.
“It is!” a third said, louder. “I can see the birthmark under her eye!”
The chatter rose. Patrons came closer to their table. Elowen’s heart magic went wild, sensing the emotions around her. Desire.
Excitement. Genuine awe.
They’d recognized her, all right.
Vandra laughed her usual laugh. Head thrown back and all. “Do you hear this, Riv?” she asked, looking right at Elowen, whose
name had never once been Riv. “They think you’re Elowen True! Must not be fans of Desires of the Night , because you’re clearly dressed as Domynia. Or they’ve never seen a redhead with large breasts before. Their loss, frankly.”
She winked.
The patrons, who were so certain only seconds ago, emanated confusion. How was it possible that Vandra had fooled them into believing the truth was a lie? Another facet of her impressive gift.
“If you’re going to stare at her, the least you can do is buy her meal. Mine, too, seeing as we’re together.” Vandra put her
arm around Elowen, then dared to plant a kiss on her cheek.
Elowen’s skin burned at the point of contact, where she’d absorbed not just desire, but... was it affection? It had happened
too quickly for Elowen to be sure. She longed for more touch, and she hated herself for it.
The other patrons kept staring.
“Go on now!” Vandra said, shooing them away. “We’re starving, and we’d like something sweet and spicy to eat! With two ales
to wash it down.”
The first person who’d guessed Elowen’s identity nodded and headed to the bar. The second followed, pledging to get the drinks.
The third just shook their head and went back to their seat. At that, Vandra released her hold on Elowen and returned to her
side of their table.
The distance did little to calm the heat that burned under Elowen’s skin. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, which
had obviously been clouded by Vandra’s energy, because suddenly all Elowen wanted to do was talk to Vandra. And touch her. And hear about
every single detail of her life.
“Who is Riv?” she whispered, coming back to consciousness.
The patron returned with food for them both, prepared by hand magicians skilled in cooking entire meals in a matter of seconds.
Vandra took an eager bite of her sugar-crusted hotcakes topped with spicy dollpeppers. “River. One of the best assassins still
in the game. Looks nothing like you.” She winked again.
The deception had worked well. Impressively so. The second patron brought them their drinks, and the rest of the guests in the tavern went back to their usual activities, paying no mind to Elowen and Vandra.
“Is River your ex?” Elowen asked carefully.
“Oh no,” Vandra replied. “It was never like that with Riv and me. When I joined the Deathrose Guild a few years ago, we met
through one of their member mixers. It was a paint’n’sip night, actually. Quite delightful. She and I ran a lot of cons together
in our heyday. She’d understand.”
When Elowen last knew her, Vandra freelanced her jobs, taking on whatever people offered her, so long as the pay was good
and the mark was worthy of her talents. When Elowen asked her why she had basically agreed to be a menace to Galwell, Vandra
had said, “Because he’s the furthest thing from irredeemable—nothing like my usual marks. I thought it would be an interesting
challenge, and I knew he would be able to handle it with grace.”
“I didn’t know you’d joined the Deathrose Guild,” Elowen said. The guild was quite prestigious, known for pursuing the worst
people in Mythria.
“Of course you didn’t,” Vandra said, chewing her meal with a smile. “You were in hiding.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Elowen protested. “I was taking a well-deserved break from society.”
“And I was moving up in the realm. Or down, I suppose. Depends on your perspective.” Vandra shrugged. “Doesn’t much matter
anymore, because I quit the guild altogether.”
It was strange to consider how much had changed for Vandra when Elowen’s own life had been effectively paused since saving
the realm. If Elowen had to sum up the last ten years, it would take about three minutes. She suspected it would take the
rest of her lifetime to learn all of Vandra’s history.
“All the same, thanks for helping get those people away from me,” Elowen said.
Vandra waved her off with a fork. “Don’t mention it. They were getting in the way of my meal.”
Elowen could sense regret emanating off Vandra. Invoking River’s name had hurt her somehow, yet she’d done it without pause.
Elowen’s gloomy heart grew gloomier. Why was Vandra so damn endearing?
“I should tell you that Beatrice is here,” Elowen said, wanting to even the score. Ghosts forbid she find herself indebted
to Vandra. Her voice dared to shake a little. How embarrassing. “I didn’t want to see her, so I ran off.”
Vandra looked about. “I heard she finally split from Robert de Noughton. What a dreadfully average man. Did you ever meet
him?”
“I haven’t spoken to Beatrice since Galwell’s funeral. I’d hoped to keep it that way, though it seems I won’t be so lucky.”
“It’s very hard to drift apart from friends.” Vandra’s smile lacked its usual luster.
“Beatrice was never my friend,” Elowen said, harshly. When Vandra did not engage with the statement, continuing to look at
Elowen with an understanding kind of sadness, Elowen could not keep hold on the sharpness of her own anger. “I wondered if
time would make it easier. Doesn’t seem as though it has.”
“We love to trick ourselves into believing time softens all our blows.”
“It’s only ever made things worse for me,” Elowen said.
Vandra grinned. “Don’t you dare give time all the credit. You’re unusually good at making things worse all on your own.”
Elowen couldn’t help but laugh in return. When Vandra joined in, the two women locked eyes. There was a spark between them so intense that Elowen wondered for a moment if a hand magician had lobbed a fireball at their table.
No. It was just the intoxicating glow of a genuine connection being made, of truth flowing from both sides of the table.
“Why did you leave the Deathrose Guild?” Elowen asked.
Vandra’s eyes lit up, surprised by the question. Elowen knew she was revealing herself to have been dishonest earlier, but
she couldn’t help it. She did want to know more about Vandra. In fact, she’d spent ten long years fighting the urge to wonder about Vandra, and now that
she was here, eating her sweet-and-spicy meal, the least Elowen could do was find out some small details about her life. It
was certainly better than discussing her non-friendship with Beatrice.
“My parents don’t know what my job is,” Vandra said. It was not the route Elowen expected, and her curiosity only deepened.
“All my life, they’ve believed I work in fashion.”
“You are always well-dressed,” Elowen noted, because it was true. Vandra’s clothing never failed to look impeccable. She was
currently dressed all in black, typically a rather uninteresting ensemble. On her, the different textures of the fabrics and
the precise fit of the pieces looked utterly distinct among the crowd.
“I am,” Vandra confirmed. “Right now my parents believe I am a live-in fashionist for the queen, not a guard. It’s easy to
keep the secret from them, because they are all the way out in Devostos, and they don’t really pay attention to anything beyond
their robust bingo community.”
“Why do you lie?” Elowen asked. This conversation had already taken so many surprising turns, she had to keep seeing it through.
“Before I was born, my mother’s sister was murdered by a man who had also killed many other women,” Vandra said.
Even while saying something so painful, Elowen sensed that same steadiness from Vandra that she’d felt when she first saw
her again. Vandra lacked any hesitation, even through this difficult topic. She was just... open.
“I’m sorry,” Elowen whispered.
“Thank you,” Vandra replied, receiving Elowen’s regrets with sincere appreciation. “They’d figured out this man’s patterns
and particularities, but no one caught him. And my whole family made their peace with that somehow. Not me. Once I was old
enough to get around the realm alone, I fixated on finding him. And I did .”
Elowen gasped. She hadn’t intended to become so engrossed, but Vandra drew it out of her.
“I accomplished what entire knight forces had not done,” Vandra continued. “That was how I learned I have a unique talent,
and word spread of my work among underground networks. When my parents heard the man who’d murdered my aunt was dead, I thought
they would be thrilled, or at least relieved. I’d finally brought them justice. But they were sad. They grieved my aunt all
over again. And I knew I could never tell them it had been me. I didn’t want them to see me differently for it.”
Elowen understood very well how hard it was to have other people change their perception of you because of the loss you’d
experienced. She, too, had changed from her grief, and she had no control over how the entire realm received her for it. She
would always be Galwell’s little sister to them. The tragedy followed her like a persistent shadow, visible in every light.
If she’d had the choice, she would have asked not to be seen differently for it, either.
“I set out to find only the worst of people, hoping to prove to myself that my talent was worthwhile. And sometimes I got tasked with little side quests along the way, like how you and I met.” Vandra paused, letting the moment sink in. “By that point, the Deathrose Guild had been asking me to join for years, and I’d been turning them away, not wanting to make my job that legitimate. Then Galwell died, and I realized that I no longer wanted to work alone.”
It struck Elowen then how Vandra was one of the only other people outside of the Three who knew Galwell at all. Vandra had
seen his heroics up close, but she’d also seen his failings. She’d caused some of them, in fact. While it bothered Elowen
how often strangers used her brother’s death as a reason to alter their own lives, she found it rather touching that his absence
had affected Vandra in such a way.
“That quest had brought me a sense of community, even if it came from antagonizing the four of you at every turn,” Vandra
continued. “I thought the guild could provide me that in an even deeper way. As the years ticked by, I realized that so much
of my life had been built around deceit, and no one knew the real me. When I left the guild, it only proved my point. They’d
all cared about what I accomplished as an assassin, using it as fuel to be even better themselves, but no one cared that I
was gone. Except for River. So now I’m finally trying to get what I’ve never really let myself have—a life I’m proud to tell
my parents about.”
“I see,” Elowen said, taking it all in. She had known small fragments of Vandra’s life. That she was an only child. That she always tried to make monthly dinners with her parents, even while questing. Now she saw the bigger picture. How Vandra’s sunshine facade disguised so much more than even Elowen the heart magi cian had seen. “I would be proud of you, if I were your family,” she admitted.
Vandra blushed. “Thank Ghosts you’re not,” she said, flustered by Elowen’s sincerity.
Elowen bit down on her lip, preventing herself from saying anything more. She’d thought by choosing to eat the meal in public,
she would avoid any intimate moment that could be brought on by eating together in bed. Yet somehow Elowen found this to be an even more vulnerable affair.
Worse, Elowen found herself not just moved by all she’d learned, but deeply invested in Vandra’s hope for a better life.