Varen winced, shooting a look at Enriel; but she was looking away with a perfectly innocent expression on her face, hiding her smirk behind a mug of tea. So he sighed, leaning back in his chair and turning to his aunt and uncle, and proceeded to regale them with the story of how they’d been ambushed by orc raiders, then chased after them and Enriel for days—a far less clinical retelling than the one he’d just given the general.
Laena and Beren looked rightly horrified, then relieved, then enthralled as Varen gave them the condensed version: how they had found the camp and other captured elves, scouted the area, and created an ambush of their own. He dutifully left out everything to do with Korik’s magical abilities, and he kept his description of Alwyn’s magic to a bare minimum—after all, they were supposed to be eating supper—but did his best to talk up how Korik had healed the mage, which allowed them to overpower the raiders and escape.
When the story was done, Laena looked at Korik with her eyes shining.
“Thank you again, Healer Korik,” she said, voice trembling. “I was already grateful for your protection, but this—this is far more than anything I would have expected. You saved so many lives.”
“I...” Korik stammered, glancing away with a blush rising in his face. “I was glad to help.”
Varen smiled over at the orc, who caught his eyes for only a moment, before looking away again, embarrassed. “We couldn’t have done it without him.”
Chapter Twelve
Korik
Sleepwassurprisinglyelusiveto Korik that night. Varen and Enriel were sharing the only guest bedroom. Nothing was large enough for Korik, so he was set up in the sitting room with all sorts of cushions and blankets laid out for him, once again creating something more like a nest than a bed. It was comfortable, though, and he should have been sleeping; but instead he found himself worrying about what would happen next.
Would Enriel be safe in her journey ahead? Who would go with her? Would there be a proficient elven healer waiting for her at her destination?
And Varen—his heart squeezed strangely in his chest when he thought of Varen, and of the soft smile he’d had during dinner. Where had he gone? What had he reported to the elven army? How soon would they need to leave? Andwhydid Korik’s chest feel so constricted when his thoughts drifted back to that smile—not the arrogant smirk he so often wore, but what seemed like a true, genuine smile?
He liked being around Varen more than he thought he could, he realized. The elf was still annoyingly cocky and often full of himself, but had also proven himself to be a loyal ally. Korik had entrusted him with a secret out of necessity, and Varen had faithfully kept it to himself.
Were they friends? Korik was unsure if they could even call themselves that, but the tightness in his chest didn’t feel quite like friendship, either. But whatever the feeling, he and Varen only had a few weeks together. He was sure it would fade once they got back to their normal lives in Drol Kuggradh.
When he finally managed to sleep, it wasn’t long before the sound of cooking in the kitchen roused him again. Morning sun filtered in through the drawn curtains, leaving lines of light across his pile of pillows and blankets. In the other room, he could hear Laena stoking the fire in the oven as she prepared to make breakfast.
At least Laena and her husband had been kind, he thought as he lay staring up at the ceiling for a while longer. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, going to the elven capital for the first time; but he hadn’t seemed to stick out too much. If anything, the elves looked at him with more curiosity about his height than surprise at seeing an orc; those sorts of stares, at least, he’d been familiar with all his life. But Laena and Beren had been nothing but kind and accommodating to him. Part of him had anticipated needing to fend for himself once they arrived at Castle Aefraya, and he was relieved that it had not come to that.
It was no use trying to sleep now that the sun was up, and food was being prepared. Korik sat up, rubbing his eyes, and gathered all the pillows and blankets into a neat pile, then went to help Laena finish preparing the meal. She tried to wave him away, but when it became clear that he was looking for some way to help, she set him to work peeling potatoes.
They all gathered around the table again for breakfast when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Laena and Beren exchanged startled, puzzled expressions. Varen stood quickly, though, and went for the door.
“Probably for me,” he sighed, gesturing for the others to remain. Korik watched as Varen answered the door. He couldn’t get a good view of the elf who had knocked; Varen stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
“Awfully early for business,” Beren sighed, shaking his head. Korik glanced at Enriel, who only shrugged. She seemed unperturbed.
Varen was only gone a moment, stepping back into the house with an unrolled parchment in one hand.
“We’ve been summoned,” he said, eyes landing on Korik again. There was a slight edge in his voice now, but Korik didn’t know what it meant. “The both of us. The king wants to speak with us.”
There was a long moment of silence, then Beren let out a low whistle. “Summoned by the king himself,” he murmured, shaking his head. “And to think we used to worry about you, Varen.”
“I still worry about him. A summons from the king won’t fix him,” Enriel laughed, and the tension in Laena’s face dissipated.
Varen spluttered. “Fixme? Fix what?”
But the other elves laughed, and even Varen seemed unoffended by her words. Were all elves so casual in their homes, with their families? Korik had only ever seen their careful formality, their faces always gracefully stoic. Here, there was none of that. Or were all siblings so playfully cruel? He could remember other children in the clan saying things like this to him when he was young, but he remembered none of the teasing lilt in their voices to soothe the sting.
Varen noticed his silence, and to his surprise, the elf’s expression softened.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he said in a lower tone, speaking directly to Korik. “I’m sure he just wants to hear about the orc rebels from me, and about his son and granddaughter from you.”
It seemed likely. Korik had seen the elven king briefly, when he had come to Drol Kuggradh—both for the birth of his granddaughter, which Korik had assisted with, and the official unification and coronation of King Zorvut, which Korik had mostly avoided. Though they had never spoken, if Varen had reported that he’d come to Castle Aefraya with the healer who had helped deliver the princess, the king surely would have been told.
“Yes, you’re probably right,” Korik agreed, realizing the others had been waiting for him to respond.
The elves talked amongst themselves about what it would be like to have a personal audience with the king over the rest of breakfast; Korik only half-listened, finishing his meal in silence. Was that really all the king would want to talk to him about? He had been around King Zorvut and Prince Taegan, of course; but the rapport he’d built with them and their daughter was... notcasual, but certainly far less formal than he would imagine having with King Ruven. How was he supposed to act? Hopefully he and Varen would be together the whole time, and he would just imitate however Varen behaved.
