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Indignation spiked from Ellory — undercut by acrid fear. “Not against a host of mage-hunters. Neither can you, by the way. Is this a suicide mission?”
Was it? The river in the Fae realm appeared in Verve’s mind again, lit from within by countless Fae souls — and some meridian souls, too, she’d come to realize.
Love is a river, Jocasta’s words echoed. Let it flow.
Verve ground her teeth against the gentle words. Love and rivers of light were all well and good, but as she’d told Alem, this was not a moment for either. People like her met these moments with force, with blood and death, so folks like Alem could live in peace. And even then, peace was never guaranteed. Evil would always grow where it could. Someone had to stand against it.
No matter the cost.
She smoothed a hand over her scarf to quell the growing agitation, hers and Space-Between-Stars, who had retreated as much as they could from her attention.
Still, she ensured the Fae knew she spoke to them as much as to Ellory. “I have no intention of dying,” Verve said coolly, to hide the tumble of nerves in her chest. “Wanting to win a fight is normal, but distracting too. You must enter the battleground expecting nothing other than to address each moment as it comes. Your body and mind want to survive. At a certain point, no amount of training or preparation will help; you must trust them to make that happen. I expect no fighting from you, but you will make a fine decoy while I address my business with Danya.” She held up her wire bracelet, letting the firelight catch upon it. “The world won’t be poorer for one more death, especially that of a monster. And as you said, you owe me one.”
“I do owe you,” Ellory said slowly. “But you ask too much. I’ve steered clear of Atal’s Chosen for a reason.”
Verve prodded the turkey with a dagger; the meat was still too pink to eat. “So let me get this right: you’ll hand over your fellow mages to Legion’s mage-hunters, but you draw the line at putting yourself in harm’s way? Or is it Atal’s Chosen, specifically, you fear?”
“None of this is your business,” Ellory shot back. “What does it matter, anyway? Just coerce me and be done with it. Why do I have to want to help you?”
Despite her sharp words, fear, guilt, and shame, warred within the shiftling, like her heart was a roused hornet’s nest and Verve had chunked the rock.
“Because you’re more than the path you’ve chosen,” Verve said quietly. “You know this, Ellory. Yet you’re afraid to face the truth, because it hurts too much, and because to do so would mean your entire life must change. But the truth is, change is the only thing you can count on.”
Ellory’s light-brown cheeks flushed and her desperation soured the air. “Fine. I’ll go with you, but stay out of sight unless there’s trouble. I’ll be your secret weapon. You won’t have to fight alone—”
“We are always alone,” Verve broke in. “Other people are just around, sometimes. No, Ellory, for this plan to work, I need a mage with me when I face Danya.”
“You’re an assassin,” Ellory grumbled. “Can’t you just spring on her from the shadows?”
“That won’t work, this time,” Verve replied.
Ellory frowned. “If you don’t want me to fight for you, and you’re not planning on taking this Danya down with you, then what’s your brilliant plan?”
Please, Space-Between-Stars muttered. Do tell.
“I have my methods,” Verve replied. “As you saw during one of our other encounters.”
Ellory hugged her arms to her chest. “I’ve seen nothing like what you did to those other mages. You felled them without weapons or magic.” Her nose wrinkled. “But there’s not a whiff of magic from you. You’re no mage.”
“Perhaps I have my own kind of magic.”
“Impossible.”
Verve tried to smile. “Apparently not.”
She glanced around at the forest, now cloaked in darkness. Her meridian senses let her feel the presence of a dozen small creatures within a stone’s throw, and double that farther away. There was nothing to fear beyond the bubble of light cast by their fire.
Then something larger moved just out of range of her senses. Something human-sized. Something familiar, but not predatory. Verve strained, but couldn’t make out the presence beyond those vague feelings.
She looked back at the shiftling. “The first time we met,” Verve said slowly. “You said you sought a mage named ‘Damaris.’ But I don’t think you were looking on a whim. Who were you working for?”
Ellory went still as stone. “Why does it matter?”
“I know how good the coin can be for bringing in a mage with a Damaris’s reputation,” Verve went on as if Ellory had not spoken. “But I also don’t know of anyone in this province who’d pay a mage to hunt another mage.”
She’d expected the shiftling to snarl at her, but Ellory only looked away. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think.”
“Definitely,” Verve agreed. “But not when hunting mages is concerned. And not,” she added, softer, “where Legion is concerned.”
