She inhaled shakily.
Dhuro’s mother had sent him on a mission to kill his own best friend.
All the frowns, the grimaces, the dark moods… Had this been why? Because he’d have to kill someone he loved?
And this whole time, she’d been so prickly with him, so contentious. He’d fired back and held his own, but all the while, this had been simmering beneath the surface.
Whatever Dakkar had done, there had to be another way to solve this. His death wouldn’t just punish him, but Dhuro. And worse, since Dhuro would have to live the rest of his life with what he’d had to do. What did he want to do about this?
Losing Cosimo had been excruciating. And Dhuro would face that loss too, with the crushing anguish of striking the death blow?
She shook her head. It didn’t have to be that way. It didn’t. She knew it.
Tarquin had led an army of hateful bigots to murder every non-human they’d come across, innocent or not; together, they had killed and tortured. And yet, he’d been stripped of his family name, his property, his rank and position, and exiled. If someone guilty of war crimes such as Tarquin’s could be punished without resorting to execution, then maybe there was hope for stopping Dakkar through other means… and hope for the executioner who’d have to live with it.
Tell me everything, Shrelia.
Sheathing his blades, Dhuro made his way back to his squad with a shake of his head. Thank the Darkness it hadn’t been a light-elf attack. Arabella—and everyone—was safe, at least for now.
But Queen Nendra never allowed Zoran to leave Dun Mozg, not even to visit his family in Nozva Rozkveta. If he was here now, she hadn’t made that decision lightly.
Ahead, Zoran swept a graceful bow to Arabella, who bowed her head to him in turn. He said something and laughed, then patted her withers.
Dhuro grimaced. Overly familiar, as always, but that was Zoran. His brother always had an easy smile and a sincere laugh for everyone, and a heart as big as he was tall. It was difficult not to like him, even if everything always seemed to come so easily to him. In another life, had Zoran been a woman, he might’ve been Mati’s heir. He’d certainly always given Vadiha more than a challenge.
“Brother!” Zoran rushed up to him and gave him a hug. “It’s been far too long!” Zoran ruffled his hair, making him sigh. “You have the best hair, as always. Still making those hair masks?”
Dhuro groaned. Of course he still made those hair masks—vinegar, olive oil, egg when he could get it. Hair this healthy and voluminous didn’t just happen on accident. But he didn’t need Zoran telling everyone about it.
“We’re just on the border with Lumia,” he murmured, scanning the dark forest. “Let’s get somewhere safe enough to camp before we exchange any more niceties.”
Zoran huffed out a half-laugh. “We both know you ran out of niceties in the crib. But yes, let’s find somewhere to rest our rears and catch up.”
When he’d been little, Zoran had helped take care of him, but that hadn’t come without good-natured gibing. A lot of good-natured gibing.
He was about to summon Kinga when Gavri stepped forward, her bearing particularly stiff. No surprise, considering her history with Zoran.
“Your Highness, allow me to scout on ahead and find us a campsite.” Her voice was as stiff as her bearing.
Next to him, Zoran’s mouth hung open like a sack. But it would take more than that if Zoran hoped to recapture his past love. Especially when Gavri was so keen on getting away.
“Yes. Go on ahead.”
With a brisk nod, she wasted no time in picking a path and disappearing into the night. Behind him, Arabella and the pixie seemed deep in conversation, with Noc hovering protectively nearby. Good—someone would keep an eye on her while he dealt with his brother.
He motioned for Kinga to take point and guide them forward, and she got into position.
Zoran cleared his throat. “How… how has she been?”
“Kinga?” he joked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you know, rising through the ranks per usual.”
Zoran sketched a tight-lipped smile. “Gavri.”
This was a dangerous game. Rumor said something had happened between Zoran and Gavri in Dun Mozg, when Veron and Alessandra had stopped there. Queen Nendra was infamous for her spite, and her memory was long.
“Work keeps her busy,” he answered carefully, although he wanted to ask if Zoran knew what he was doing.
Closing his eyes, Zoran rubbed his forehead and breathed deeply. “I shouldn’t ask, I know.” He slowed his gait, just a bit, until everyone passed them by and the two of them brought up the rear of the group. “You have to be wondering why I’m here—”
Only a lot.
Zoran cracked his knuckles. “Look… Queen Nendra sent me to… assist against Dakkar.”
Dhuro sneered. Assist?
Zoran was Mati’s son, but married to Queen Nendra, he was no longer Mati’s subject. He served a different queen.
“You’re here to stop me. Mati didn’t want us to take the tunnels precisely so Nendra couldn’t stop us from killing her son.”
Zoran grasped his shoulder. “Dhuro, he doesn’t have to be killed.”
“Mati wants him dead, make no mistake,” he hissed. Orders were orders. Zoran knew that as well as he did. “This can’t come out. The humans catch one whiff of a dark-elf leading a rebellion against them, and the entire alliance collapses. We’ll starve. And that’s not just Nozva Rozkveta, but Dun Mozg too.”
Gnawing on his cheek, Zoran turned away and winced, running his claws along the leather of his trousers. “Look, I’m not going to hide my hand. Dun Mozg supplies Nozva Rozkveta with weapons. That’ll stop if even a hair is harmed on Dakkar’s head.”
And here was Nendra’s infamous spite. She’d weaken the entire dark-elf race over Dakkar, her one traitorous son. Zoran was better than this, though. Or at least he should have been.
Dhuro narrowed his eyes. “Reduced to being Nendra’s errand boy?”
This time, Zoran grabbed him by both shoulders, holding his gaze intently. “She has my daughter, Dhuro. I’m whatever she wants me to be.” Zoran’s voice, as strong as it was, quivered slightly. Karla, his six-year-old daughter, would likely be Nendra’s heir, now that Yelena had disgraced herself when she’d helped deliver Alessandra to the Brotherhood. Although all had ended well, Yelena’s treason hadn’t been forgotten. “Nendra spends all her time with the rest of her consorts, and for years, I’ve been nothing to her but a trophy. But as long as she keeps Karla there, I’m not going anywhere.”
Aside from Zoran, Nendra had at least three other consorts, as many dark-elf queens did. To be ignored by his queen, Zoran must have fallen out of favor. Far, far out of favor. But the children always belonged to the mother—Zoran had no way to leave the situation without leaving his daughter.
Zoran let out a tired breath, and they continued walking. “There has to be a way to do this bloodlessly.”
There wasn’t. Even when they’d been children, Dakkar had never done anything with less than his entire will. Dakkar had always fought to his last breath, beyond the point when any other novice would have conceded. In the sky realm, he’d always stayed out on the hunt until he could return with a quarry, even long after he’d run out of supplies, which risked injury or death. He’d always been a man who hadn’t allowed reality to dictate what he could accomplish, as reckless as that was.