Chapter 17
“What makes you want to find a tallup?” the blond elf asks while pressing his flat foot against the bark of a robust tree. “Or is that just an excuse to cover up your meddling with the Sanvira’s corpse?”
“I’m on a quest to find the fish for my master. As for the Sanvira, my father sent me to investigate and quell any disturbances at the border,” I say carefully. My hand goes to my heart. “I express my deepest condolences for your loss.”
Pluto’s eyes shine, not as though to cry, but like he’s trying desperately to hold in a laugh.
The rest of his face appears to be pained, forced into nonexpression.
“You must know that the Sanvira are servants to the human king…your father. So we have little sentimentality with them. We are simply annoyed because his body was discarded within our borders, and sat sucking energy from the forest for so long.”
Then why did you look so devastated when he disappeared? I almost ask, but I hold my tongue. He wouldn’t lie— can’t lie.
“So why a tallup?” he asks again, his turquoise eyes skimming a tall tree’s trunk.
He swivels his head and grins at us, the tension vanishing from his face.
He is a rather difficult fellow to read.
“If you’re hankering for something nutritious, shouldn’t your palace have plenty of delicacies?
” His eyes squint ever so slightly. “Or perhaps you have a creature you’re harboring that requires the magic from Aldorin’s most elusive fish? ”
He isn’t subtle, is he?
I shift my weight onto my left foot, then my right.
I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to tell Pluto I’m doing this for Ether, even if it’s clear that’s what he wants—for me to confess I’m curious about their relationship, about the rage that flooded his features when he realized I knew who he’d been asking me about before.
We have a connection to the same black-haired elf, and neither of us likes the idea.
He raises a brow at me, waiting.
I puff out a breath.
I don’t own her, I realize. She is no slave. She is no servant.
I surrender to the truth, admittedly curious how the blond elf will respond to my honesty.
“I’m getting it for Ether, she’s?—”
Before I can finish, Pluto holds a hand up, his eyes flickering.
He shakes his head. “If it’s for Ether, say no more.
As long as she is alive and well, and you plan to keep it that way, all is well.
And you have my thanks.” Painful as it sounds for him to breathe the words, I can tell they’re genuine.
He almost seems comforted by the subtle threat laced into his gratitude. I choose to ignore it.
“I—well, you’re welcome,” I say. And then guilt hovers like a dagger of ice aimed at my heart.
I am not at the castle to protect her, nor do I know if she is safe.
I can’t forget how the king sacrifices the best and brightest magical creatures to Lord Arioch every few years under the guise of satiating our ancestors.
Ether was headed for that fate too, but I feel now is not the time to bring it up.
Perhaps it’s not a well-known fact among the folk of Aldorin, as it is in the kingdom.
Ether certainly didn’t understand that she was headed for that fate too.
Before my thoughts can consume me, Pluto smiles and stares at the tree again. To no one in particular, he asks, “Can humans climb trees?”
Ronan clears his throat, answering for both of us. “Yes, we can.”
The elf’s eyes darken to a deep orange, flecks of silver cutting across his irises like ice.
His jaw tenses, and his light eyebrows pull together.
“Surely not as we elves can.” His gaze settles on me, aflame with something warm and challenging.
“Do you wish to walk? I’d say it’s about three days on foot to Nwatalith, about a two-day journey to the nearest tallup breeding ground.
That is, if we decide to go on foot.” He pats the tree again, eyebrows raised in question.
Two days is a long time, but it just might be worth it.
And we have time. The peace treaty situation will be solved, my father will be pleased (or sorely disappointed when I return with the information he likely thought I wouldn’t be able to find), and I’ll catch a prize-winning tallup for my master.
It’s a win-win no matter how I look at it.
“And if we…climb?” I ask, feeding his competitive stare.
“An hour at most, if you can keep my pace,” he says briskly.
“If we are to ride on horseback?” Ronan interjects.
Pluto sneers at him, flashing his sharp canines. “Horses are non-magical beings and are therefore not allowed into the Aldorin wood. You were smart to leave them behind wherever you did.”
Not allowed? I wonder what this could mean, as I am technically not allowed here either.
I place a hand in front of Ronan before he can make another remark. He’s being precariously aggressive toward Pluto, even though I’ve been trying to keep the elf on our side. What if he abandons us?
“We can try climbing,” I say with confidence. “How hard could it be?”
Pluto’s smile is genuine, though a pitiful gleam flits across his eyes. His hands move to the trunk of the tree, flexing his fingers against the smooth bark. His hair whips over his shoulder, a thick braided cord of gold.
One second, his legs are bent—muscles corded around thin bones—and the next, he’s at the top of the tree. He… jumped and made it to the top.
When he floats on the air like a leaf on his descent, I remember myself and clamp my mouth shut. This is yet another elven ability I never learned about in my classes with Bernadette. Just how many mysteries surround them? What other wonders will Ether show me when I return?
I regard Ronan, who is yawning instead of letting the elf’s display faze him. Then I turn to Pluto, whose grin is so smug, he may as well have told us we are as inferior to him as the worms plugging the mossy ground beneath us.
Laughing it off, I rest a hand on the hilt of the longsword I brought. When Pluto studiously follows the action, I realize it could be misinterpreted. So I shift my hands behind me instead.
The elf raises an eyebrow and makes the same face he did earlier, like he’s suppressing laughter so intense it’s inflicting indescribable pain. Veins become little mountain ranges on his forehead.
“I don’t suppose you’d be against walking with us? I doubt we’d be nearly as capable of scaling a tree as you are,” I say with a grin, meaning to be playful. Pluto must pick up on it, because his face relaxes and his smirk reappears.
“You’re very right. It’d take us much longer if you have to climb the tree, and even longer every time you fall.
” With a wink, he brushes his hands on his legs, then flattens his elbow for a late but well-meaning handshake.
“Um, it’s Xavelor , right?” Pluto asks, the name sounding foreign on his tongue.
I flinch at the mention of my brother, but I don’t think the elf notices.
Ronan raises his eyebrows in warning, almost as if to say, You can’t trust him, even if he knows Ether. Do you even trust Ether yet?
I breathe in, then nod. Pluto’s jaw clenches, but we shake hands anyway.
“We’ll walk, then,” I say with a grin. “But first, can you take us to an inn within Aldorin? We’ve been traveling all day. We’d do well with a rest.”
Pluto taps his chin, his now-green eyes thoughtful.
“Yes, that would be best. There’s a tavern nearby, about an hour’s walk toward Baelhiftsh.
” He turns so we are all facing the same direction, then adjusts a little further to his left and extends an arm.
He waves downward a few times in the same direction, pointing into the thick of trees.
“Go this way. Pally’s ought to have vacancies.
Tell her I sent you, and she’ll know what to do. ”
The elf’s hand touches the tree again, and he lifts his head, nose parallel with the trunk.
“You don’t plan on joining us?” Ronan asks, something in his words slightly sardonic.
Pluto snaps his teeth, eyes swirling with a diluted marbling of color before settling into a muted gray-blue. “The day has just begun, and I have business to attend to. Reporting to our leaders on the status of the Sanvira, for one. I can meet you at dusk.”
“I didn’t realize we had already taken so much of your time.” I apologize. “Go. We will see you tonight.”
The elf seems to appreciate the gesture. Two fingers go to his temple in a salute. Not a moment later, he disappears to the top of the tree, and I can scarcely hear him above the rustle of wind passing along the treetops.
A little over an hour later, we arrive at a small shack in the woods.
It sits in a clearing filled with overgrowth.
Flowers and weeds and ferns invade a path that looks to have once been paved.
Colorful glass lanterns hang from stakes along the path, pulsing with magic flames.
Vines weave around the exterior of the brick building, making it look almost abandoned.
A sign above the door creaks on two hooks dangling from a rod, moving with the morning breeze.
Pally’s on the Bend , it reads. It’s written in Ariochan script.
“This must be the place.” Ronan yawns.
I mumble a response, then enter right behind him.
The tavern is small on the inside, but cozy.
Candles flicker amber flames on short wicks, and several customers with pointed ears and sharp teeth murmur private conversations over stout glasses of green and blue.
A subtle haze of incense hovers in the eaves, hugging wood planks as though to keep the building warm.
A soft melody plays from somewhere, though there are no live musicians.
The tune is unfamiliar to me, and rather somber.