“Do you remember when you cut up my shirt to allow for the wings?” Luke asked in a low voice.
Elliot studied the archery targets as if he had actual interest in them. “Can’t say I do, buddy.”
He saw Dale Wavechaser often lurking around Luke and looking sad rather than glaring as he did whenever he saw Elliot. Whenever he saw Dale, Elliot had perhaps an unreasonable number of visions of what “in a clinch” might have meant. He also perhaps thought about this too often when thinking about it only made him angry. Elliot told himself that he was just concerned for his friend. He knew that had been Luke’s first kiss, and Dale had ruined it for him with his prejudice and insensitivity, and Dale was probably going to get another chance despite being an idiot who did not deserve one.
When these justifications broke down, Elliot reminded himself that being angry didn’t help. Luke and Dale were going to work this out. Elliot had to protect himself and stay out of their way.
So Elliot continued on as if Luke had never asked him, and focused on work. He heard rumors of trolls and humans seen together. Nobody seemed to know if the humans were from the villages, or bandits again, or if they might possibly be humans from over the Border. He threw himself into researching that, and learning trollish, and wrote to Serene’s cousin Swift, Luke’s cousin Gregory, and Podarge the harpy. He even sent a message in a bottle to his mermaid. He concentrated on being strong and independent and career focused, damn it, and he was not swayed by Luke saying he might ask to be posted to an elven fortress, so he and Serene and Elliot could all be together.
Then Podarge’s letter came, saying that armed troll and human forces had been sighted too close to the Forest of the Suicides, and the harpies requested their new allies’ aid. Elliot started yelling for the commander, Luke and Serene started planning to call in elven reinforcements, and Bright-Eyes the librarian started yelling about the library being a place of quiet and learning.
Elliot realized that this was a call to arms, and they would not be taking a councilor, least of all one who was still in training.
Except that he had to come.
“You have to offer the trolls peace,” he argued. “You have to offer an agreement that looks good. I have to be there to negotiate it!”
Luke shouted back at him. Faintly, as if in the distance, he could hear Bright-Eyes begging for silence, but Elliot did not look at him, or anywhere but at Luke, as if he could make Luke get it through sheer force of will.
“No other councilor was brought to see the harpies. They don’t know anyone else, they just know me! Luke, come on, you have to understand. You’d do anything if you thought it was your duty.”
“I understand,” Luke snapped.
He did not say anything else. Elliot stared at him for a fraught moment, not sure what Luke’s understanding meant. In the end, all he felt he could do was make his own position clear.
“I’m going, with or without your help.”
Luke took a deep breath and said: “I’m helping.”
Whether it was due to the word of a Sunborn or the previous treaty with the harpies, Commander Woodsinger let Elliot come.
“You do get along with the elves,” she remarked.
That was true. Swift was coming, and Elliot would be happy to see her. He was also prepared to make eyes at any valiant elf maiden who might tell him more about elven diplomacy.
They marched through the night, packs on their shoulders, dryads whispering love songs to the crescent moon.
“I wonder if one of the girls will bring me word from Golden,” said Serene. “Not that any of those rough soldier girls would be allowed a moment alone with my treasure.”
“That would be awful,” said Luke.
“A scandal!” Elliot agreed, and they exchanged a grin over Serene’s head.
Later, when morning had turned the sky into hammered gray pearl, Luke’s step slowed and Elliot unconsciously matched it, so they were walking slightly behind Serene.
“I wanted a chance to talk to you before the battle,” Luke murmured.
Panic rose in Elliot, like a bird from a shaken tree. He was relieved to be interrupted by the arrival of the elven army.
The elves moved in a column, hair like silk under helmets of steel, a shining line of defence between them and the Forest of the Suicides. Luke squinted in at one elf in particular, and Elliot’s eyes followed his gaze to a tall blond guy on a horse. Luke was right, he thought for a minute, the guy was super hot.
Then he realized something was very wrong with this picture.
An elven guy, fighting? Elliot looked closer, and noticed that the guy had done something to suggest a lopsided bosom lurking beneath his breastplate, and done his hair as the women wore theirs. This culture of tunics and braids was not Elliot’s culture, so he could not tell how convincing the guy actually was as a woman.
Ahead of them, Serene exclaimed: “Golden?”
Not that convincing to someone who knew him, Elliot reflected, and then he realized the full splendor of what had just taken place before his eyes.
“Serene!” cried Golden, Serene’s sweetest treasure and one true love. “I’ve come to fight by your side! Don’t worry, I can take care of myself! I’ve been practicing with the sword while Mother and Father thought I was doing embroidery.”
Serene made a creaking sound, as if the hinge on her jaw had rusted. That might explain why she could not seem to close her mouth.
Glee filled Elliot, like champagne poured bubbling into a glass. He clutched Luke’s sleeve as if to show him this amazing scene, even though he knew Luke could see perfectly well. He wanted to show the world. He wanted a tapestry made to commemorate this moment.
“Luke,” he whispered. “This is the happiest day of my life.”
“I knew you would understand,” Golden told Serene, with the confidence of a sweet blond bulldozer. “I knew you were open-minded, and caring, and not a rogue who consorts with loose human men like Father said!”
Elliot had no idea his fame had spread to the delicate ears of elven gentlemen.
“You truly respect men! You call them comrades. You fight with them! And now I’m going to fight with all of you!”
“Your—how did you—” Serene croaked, and gestured to her own bosom, which was splendid and not lopsided at all.
“Ah.” Golden looked smug. “I made some pudding and sneaked the extra into bags I sewed up and popped them right in my shirt. They’re very realistic, don’t you think?”
If Serene didn’t marry him, Elliot would.
“Serene. You understand, don’t you? You always told me you believed men were equal to women!”
A sea change, obviously terrifying to Serene as it was delightful to Elliot, swept over Golden’s face. His brown eyes filled with tears, like a velvety pansy filling with dew. His lower lip quivered, proud but overset with emotion.
“Golden, I assure you—” Serene fumbled for words. “Your courage does you much credit and I—”
“Yes?” Golden asked, with menace.