“I suggest we take them back to the prisons in the Border camp, and send daily reports on the information we gather,” Serene continued.
Golden regarded her proudly. “Some of the boys in my finishing school say that all that matters about a woman is that she be a doughty warrior,” he observed. “Not me. A woman of little intelligence would be no challenge at all.”
“Hi, I’m Elliot,” said Elliot, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m very intelligent, and I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“I am Golden. I’ve heard a great deal about you from my betrothed,” Golden told him, with perfect finishing-school politeness and an unreadable expression on his face.
Elliot was not sure if Golden was judging the floozy, or jealous of Serene’s former paramour, or simply reserved. Golden was the one Serene had wanted, always, and was much better-looking than Elliot.
If Golden needed reassurance, Elliot did not know how to provide it.
“Um,” Luke said, suddenly hovering. “Hi.”
Elliot had not seen him since the early morning, when the commander had kicked them out of her tent and carried Luke off to archery practise. The lives of those in warrior training were not their own.
He glanced up at Luke, then back at the breakfast table. “Hi.”
There was an air of nervous tension about Luke. Elliot wondered if Luke had already realized what a mistake he had made.
“So . . . hi,” said Luke.
“Hi,” Elliot repeated, with maybe a tiny edge of laughter.
Luke bowed his head hastily down to Elliot’s and kissed him. The only warning was a bright flicker in Elliot’s vision, and then Luke’s mouth on his, a warm dry press of lips. Elliot was caught off guard, but he fastened his fingers in the shoulder of Luke’s shirt and kissed him properly, the way Luke should be kissed in the golden early morning: slow, almost lazy and yet not lazy at all, with the radiance of the sun filtering through Elliot’s half-closed eyelids, spreading lines of light against the dark.
“Cadet Sunborn,” said Commander Woodsinger. “Have the other cadets dismantled their tents? I left you supervising, you may recall.”
Luke straightened up. The rest of the morning flooded back.
“Of course, Commander,” he said, and Elliot narrowed his eyes in the commader’s direction. As if Luke were going to forget his responsibilities. “The cadets are ready to march at your word.”
“See to it that they are in formation, then return to bid farewell to your aunt,” said Commander Woodsinger.
Luke saluted and left. Elliot looked after him as he went: even the tips of Luke’s ears were red.
He looked back at the people assembled around the breakfast table. The commander’s expression was amused. Celaeno seemed moved by young love. The troll captain and his or her second were eating plum stones and appeared entirely uninterested in Elliot’s love life, which was how things should be.
Serene’s mouth had fallen open, for the second time in two days. Elliot made a face at her.
“This must be very startling to you, my dove,” said Serene, clearing her throat and turning to her betrothed.
“Not really,” said Golden. “Do you think all the boys do in finishing school is embroidery? La, the very idea!” He patted Serene’s hand. “Women are such blockheads.”
He favored Elliot with a bright smile.
Elliot smiled back.
“I thought you said no when Luke asked you out,” Serene hissed.
“Well,” Elliot said uncomfortably. “I mean, I did. I mean, I knew he didn’t really mean it, so we agreed it was best. Didn’t we?”
“Didn’t really mean it? I thought we were agreeing it was best that you let him down easy!”
“Me?” said Elliot. “Let Luke down easy? I’m sorry. I just need to confirm the people we’re discussing, here.”
“Didn’t really mean it,” Serene said again. “What about Luke strikes you as insincere exactly?”
“I wasn’t insulting Luke.”
“That’s not the point. The point was that I thought you didn’t like him that way.”
Serene stared at him, her eyes agate and accusing, and Elliot realized she was worried he would break Luke’s heart. He did not know what he had done to make Serene, of all people, think he was a heartless playboy.
Elliot scowled at her. “Why would you think that?”
“You refer to him as ‘loser’ more often than you call him by his given name,” Serene said. “You regularly criticize his intelligence and his mode of behavior. You told me you thought you were allergic to his face. You asked if there were any herbal remedies!”
“So?” said Elliot. “So what? I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
He got up abruptly from the table, almost pushing it away from him, and walked away into the trees. He did not go into the battlefield, but he walked until he found a bank where he could sit and put his face in his hands.
He was terrible at feelings. He had never practised them, for long years in his father’s house, and he was like one of the kids in warrior training who hit themselves over the head with their own bows. He’d got it wrong. He’d got it all wrong this time, and he was sure he would get it all wrong again in the future.
Of course Luke, who thought of the world in terms of codes of honor and lived life like he was in a story, had not thought about spiting Dale. Of course he had at least not consciously thought about how little choice there was, for someone who exclusively liked boys, at the Border camp. Of course he did not have a casual crush.
Of course instead Luke would romanticize an attachment he had to someone he knew and trusted.
Of course, Luke thought he was in love.
Elliot was going to mess this up so intensely and comprehensively.
None of this was Luke’s fault, not his mistake or Elliot’s own remorseless hunger for love. Elliot could not fit into some storybook idea of love, could not be an agreeable partner slotting into someone’s life like Dale would have been. Elliot should try not to hurt Luke, even though he did not see any way around it, any way to escape from the disaster Elliot could see coming: how he would ask too much from Luke, shatter all his illusions, ruin everything.
Elliot lifted his head. The sun shone through the tree branches and cast patterns of light and shade on his palms. He forced his fingers to uncurl, as they had curled on Luke’s shirt, and let shadows slide through his empty hands.
Maybe if he broke it to Luke gently. Maybe if Luke lost his romantic illusions soon.
On the march home, Elliot paired off with Luke, the same way Serene was pairing off with Golden.
“I’ve been wanting a chance to talk to you.”
“Yeah?” Luke asked. “I, um, I wanted to—talk to you too.”
Elliot’s heart sank. He did not know if he could do this.
“Well met, Elliot of the riverstone eyes,” said a voice behind them. “Give you good morrow, Luke of the golden locks.”
Swift-Arrows-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle, Serene’s cousin. Normally Elliot would have been delighted to behold her auburn beauty.
“Hi, Swift,” he said, and kissed her cheek. Luke muttered something incomprehensible.
“I heard you fought as bravely as any woman in the battle last eve,” Swift told Luke generously.