The Betrayal (42 page)

Kelevon stood between her and the path. His face
changed, eyes narrowing as the frown shifted into a mirthless grin.

“You have learned a trick or two since I left you.”

Eliani tried to calm her breathing. She might run, but she suspected she could not escape Kelevon. He had chased her down many times before, although then she had wanted to be caught.

She glanced around the orchard, searching for anything she could use in her defense, but the keepers of Hallowhall's grounds were too efficient. Not a limb, not even a twig, lay beneath the well-tended trees. She kicked off her slippers to better her footing, hoping the keepers were as efficient about clearing rocks from the fields.

“Kelevon, do not do this!”

She stepped sideways, north toward Hallowhall, keeping a gnarled apple tree between herself and Kelevon. He countered her movement.

“Why not? You are a danger to me now, and I am hungry.”

“You said you still cared for me!”

“Oh, I do. I shall remember you fondly. You are as delicious as ever.”

She gave a sound of disgust and darted to the next tree northward. Kelevon followed, keeping between her and the path. He made another attempt to catch her, but she skipped back from his reach. He laughed.

Eliani realized she was gasping, not from fatigue but from fear. She had fought kobalen and hunted catamount, had contested in games with fellow guardians, but never had she fought another ælven for her life.

Alben, not ælven, she corrected grimly. An ælven would not do this. She felt a pang of grief for the Kelevon she had once loved. This was not he.

He lunged for her again, and this time she saw the flash of a knife in his hand. She fell back and struck his
wrist away with one hand while she caught a fistful of his silken tunic with the other, pulling him down with her. He gave a surprised grunt as she planted a foot in his gut and threw him over her head and down the slope.

She rolled onto her hands and knees, uttering a curse as her gown hampered her. Kelevon was getting to his feet. He still had the knife.

Eliani stood, catching up her skirt and stuffing it into her kirtle, baring her legs to the chill evening breeze. She felt her flesh prickle with the cold even as Kelevon leered.

“Ah, I knew you still wanted me, sweetheart!”

She forced out a scornful laugh, though her heart was pounding with fear. “Keep deluding yourself. It is most amusing.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, replaced a moment later by a cunning smile. “You have not changed so much, after all.”

He strode toward her. Oh, for a tall tree! But these apples and stonefruits grew low and densely branched. Still, the one beside her might serve.

Before Kelevon was within arm's reach she leapt up onto a branch and caught the next higher, turning as she swung around it and aiming her feet at Kelevon's back, hoping to knock him down. Twigs whipped at her legs. He was too quick for her, evading most of the blow. He swiped at her ankles with the knife, missing by a hairbreadth.

Eliani let go the branch and landed uphill from Kelevon, turning to face him as she did so. She glanced toward the path, but it was still a good five rods away.

She swallowed. Kelevon had never been a guardian, she reminded herself. She had some advantages yet.

She took a step backward. His eyes glinted as he followed, a hunter's plea sure in pursuit.

Good, she thought, and suddenly leapt forward, lowering her head toward his midsection and launching all her weight downhill toward him. He reacted belatedly, bringing up the knife. She caught his wrist in both her hands and pushed it away, catching his cloak as she passed him and yanking it.

He let out a cry of pain but did not fall, though she heard the knife thud to the ground. Kelevon's hands went to his throat, and the cloak went limp. She dropped it as he grabbed at her, and suddenly they were grappling, struggling together as they often had, but with no laughter this time.

She jabbed an elbow at his gut. He twisted and caught a hand in her hair, wrenching her head back and pinning her against him, trapping one of her arms. Fear hammered in her chest as she tried to get at him with her free hand. She landed a blow on his shoulder blade, but he only laughed.

“Do not fight!” He tugged at her hair as he did so. “It will go harder for you if you do.”

She was gasping for breath. Her scalp felt on fire, and fear roiled in her belly. Kelevon raised his head to grin at her, then kissed her throat. Blind panic flashed through her.

Turisan!

Eliani!

She sensed a glimpse of the feast hall, bright with candles. Turisan's sudden alarm filled her.

Help me!

Where are you?

The orchards, in the orchards!

I am coming!

Kelevon's teeth closed on her throat, crushing her
flesh. She grabbed at his hair and pulled a fistful of curls as hard as she could. He gave a cry of angry surprise, his hold loosening enough for her to twist free, though she lost some of her own hair as she did so.

She scrambled away from him, looking around wildly for the blade he had dropped. Saw a glint of metal and dove for it, even as he came after her again.

Dirt and dry grass ground into her bare knees. She scrabbled for the knife's hilt, found it just as Kelevon landed on her legs, knocking her sprawling.

She tried to roll over, but he was on top of her, weighing her down, trying to force her legs apart. She struggled up onto one elbow and thrust under her arm with the knife, stabbing at what ever she could reach. The thud of the blade catching in flesh and Kelevon's shout of pain told her she had succeeded.

She threw him off, rolling onto her back as she did so, then getting to her feet. Kelevon caught at her ankle and tried to pull her down again, but a swipe of the knife at his wrists made him loose her. She stumbled backward downhill, gasping for breath.

She was terrified, horrified, aghast. She wanted to flee, trusting that the knife would make him hesitant to pursue, but she knew she could not let him go.

Kelevon knew that she and Turisan were mind-speakers. If he took that fact back to the alben, they would lose much of their advantage.

She stared at him, blinking rapidly. Her hair was in her eyes, and she tossed her head to try to get it away. Her throat ached dully and her scalp burned where he had torn out her hair. She was shaking.

Kelevon, on his knees, brought a bloodied hand away from his wounded shoulder. He looked up at her, furious.

“You shall regret that.”

He stood and came toward her. Eliani saw her death in his pale eyes.

Turisan!

I am here! Where are you?

Apples, near the berry hedge. Hurry!

She backed away, ducking her head beneath a low branch of an apple tree. Darting sideways, she put its trunk between her and Kelevon.

He strode toward her. “Enough of this game.”

He lunged left, then shifted to the right even as she dodged that way. Tricked by a feint! She was furious.

His hand caught her wrist, twisting it down, then behind her. She felt her fingers losing their grip on the knife's hilt.

He thrust her against the tree, pressing himself against her. The knife's edge bit into her back. She aimed a knee at his groin but missed. He caught her leg and pushed it wide.

Lust, hunger, and rage burned in his eyes. She knew his intent, felt her heart pound with terror. He fumbled one-handed at his clothing, and in that moment's distraction she reached her free hand behind her back and took the knife in it, cutting a finger on the blade. She shoved against him, got the hilt clear of the tree trunk, and brought the knife to his throat.

Kelevon stopped. Eliani pressed the blade's tip against his flesh.

“Back away.”

He grabbed for the knife but she whipped it aside, leaving a tiny cut on his neck and a slash on his hand. She darted away from the tree, stepped behind him, and caught his hair again. She pulled his head back and laid the knife to his throat.

“On your knees.”

“Eliani. My sweet—”

“I am not your sweetheart. On your knees!”

Slowly he obeyed. Eliani pressed the blade hard against his throat. She probably was hurting him. She did not care.

Footsteps running. She glanced up at the path, blinking.

“Eliani!”

Turisan ran down the hill toward her, all pale in the starlight, silver glinting from his tunic and his hair flying loose. She gave a sob of relief as he stopped to stare at her and Kelevon.

“You were right.” She was gasping. “He is—he is alben.”

“Spirits walking!”

“Help me bind him.”

Turisan looked confounded for a moment, then reached for the sash of Sunriding colors that Kelevon wore. Eliani planted a foot between Kelevon's shoulders and pushed him onto his face in the dirt, letting go of his hair. She kept her foot on his back and pressed the knife's point against his throat to keep him still while Turisan bound his hands behind him with the sash.

Turisan stood up, dark eyes filled with concern. “You are bleeding.”

Eliani straightened and glanced wearily at her hands, both bloodied. Her gown was smeared with dirt, as were her legs and feet, and her skinned knees oozed blood. She still clutched the knife and felt no inclination to let go of it. She tugged at her gown with her other hand, trying to free it from the kirtle to cover herself.

Turisan stepped forward to help her, gently pulling her skirt loose and letting it fall around her ankles. His eyes rose to meet her gaze, worried and loving. She flung her arms around him, and he gasped as he embraced her tightly.

I am ruining your tunic.

I have many others. Too many.

Turisan.

She opened her heart to him, felt his warmth flood her soul. She wanted to lose herself in him but was conscious of Kelevon at their feet.

Not now.

She pulled back, dizzy and trembling. Kelevon stirred. She nudged him with her foot.

“Get up.”

He rolled onto his side and struggled to his knees. Turisan took his arm and helped him stand, earning only a dark glance from Kelevon for his trouble. Eliani gestured with the knife for Kelevon to precede them, and he trudged up the hillside to the path with Eliani and Turisan close behind.

Are you all right?

Yes. Just a few cuts.

What happened?

She told him briefly. He listened without comment, casting concerned glances at her.

Others met them as they followed the path back toward the palace. Councillors and guardians spilled into the orchards from the fountain court, and Jharan hurried forward with Felisan close behind. Eliani let Turisan explain, keeping a wary eye on Kelevon, who stared at the ground, defeated but unrepentant.

Jharan's face grew stern. He turned to two of the guardians. “Take him to the garrison. Place him under heavy guard.”

“Take this.” Eliani handed Kelevon's knife to one of the guardians. She wanted nothing of his.

“My child.”

She looked up at her father and gave him a weak smile as he caught her in his arms. “I am all right.”

“Oh, my child!”

The guardians led Kelevon away while Eliani and the others returned to Hallowhall. As they passed through the Whispering Walk, she reached for Turisan's hand, not caring who saw or remarked on it. His khi was a glow of comfort against her battered palm.

Her father waited for her at the foot of the stairs to the upper arcade. Luruthin was with him, she saw. She had not noticed his presence before.

Turisan hesitated, his grip on her hand loosening.
Shall I leave you with your kindred?

She squeezed his hand tighter.
Stay with me.

He needed no more urging. Eliani climbed the stairs between Turisan and her father, weariness nearly overwhelming her now that danger was past.

Heléri met them on the upper arcade and led them all into her chamber. The males kindled lanterns and drew chairs up to the hearth while Heléri summoned Misani and spoke quietly with her. Misani nodded and left the chamber. Heléri made Eliani sit by the fire and prepared to tend her wounds.

“What happened, child?”

“I was just saying good-bye to Kelevon.”

Turisan gave a cough of laughter. The others were silent for a moment, then Felisan laughed aloud.

“Take heed of how she says good-bye, Turisan!”

“I shall.”

Luruthin looked from Turisan to her. “I was not in time to see it, but I hope one of you gave him the thrashing he has long deserved.”

“Eliani did.” Turisan grinned at her. “I merely bound his wrists after she had subdued him.”

Eliani shook her head, repressing a shudder. “If you had not come then, I think he would have had the better of me.”

Heléri took Eliani's right hand in hers and applied a cloth soaked in warm, herb-scented water to the
jagged wound made by the berry thorns. Despite her gentleness, Eliani flinched.

“Kelevon did this?” Heléri asked.

“No. I backed into the brambles. It was this that set him off, though.”

Feeling easier in the company of her family, she recounted her fight with Kelevon. Heléri continued to wash her hands, then rubbed a pungent salve into the cuts. Instantly the pain cooled.

“Ah, that feels good. What is it?”

“Balmleaf and lavender.”

“May I have some for my knees?”

“Of course. Tell me again, child. You say Kelevon fed from this wound?”

“Tried to. Started to, yes, until I pushed him off.”

Heléri glanced at Felisan. Eliani watched her father's face grow grim. She recalled Turisan's attempt to warn her, his concern that Kelevon might carry the sickness Ehranan had surmised. Her heart sank.

Oh, spirits.

Turisan rose from his chair and came to stand beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder and gripping it tightly.
I share your fate.

But if
—

Have I not yet convinced you that I do not want to live without you?

She looked up at him. His face was calm but grave. She could not help smiling.