“Commander Woodsinger, can Cadet Chaos-of-Battle and I have a teeny, weeny look at the current draft of the treaty?” Elliot asked.
Commander Woodsinger, flushed with triumph and the exertion of battle, paused and finally nodded. “Try to keep your edits teeny weeny, all right, Cadet Schafer?”
Elliot did not make any promises. Serene sat beside him, leaning her chin on his shoulder, and they looked at the parchment.
“Oh, now that won’t do,” said Serene, pointing.
Elliot uncapped his ballpoint pen and opened his notebook.
A very happy time followed, in which he changed every word of the projected treaty. Several of the troop stopped by as they worked. Delia Winterchild delivered, with obvious reluctance and a troubled face, the news that Luke had saved her life during the battle.
“Of course he would do as much for any comrade,” Serene said innocently.
“So true,” said Elliot. “What a guy.”
Delia went off to think it over by herself. She had not been particularly kind to Luke since the harpy reveal. Elliot figured this would do her nothing but good.
Dale dropped by purely to check on Elliot’s well-being, because he was a sweetheart.
“I was looking for you all over,” he said, crouching down. “I know you can’t fight. I was really worried.”
“That’s so nice,” said Elliot, scribbling. “So unnecessary, but so nice.”
“Couldn’t you promise,” Dale said, and hesitated. “To stick by me, if you’re ever caught up in another battle? I wouldn’t ever let you be hurt.”
Elliot glanced up from the page, and into Dale’s kind eyes. He felt a pang of anxiety, as if something was badly awry, but Dale was only showing concern. It was good of him. It wasn’t anything to be worried about.
“Don’t worry about it,” Elliot said at last. “Luke and Serene take care of me.”
“Of course we do,” said Serene, smacking a kiss on Elliot’s cheek. “And we always will.”
Elliot wondered if he was imagining it that Dale went away looking slightly crestfallen.
“Despite the fact he is a warrior, he has a beautiful warm nature,” Serene remarked. “Manly and nurturing. I think that he is such an excellent choice for Luke’s sweetheart. I could wish he had a slightly more broadminded attitude to elves, but I think he is improving, and besides, men can be rather prejudiced sometimes, bless them.”
“Am I?” Elliot asked. “I mean—more so than women you know?”
“You are exceptional, and exceptionally dear to me,” said Serene, and Elliot could not help smiling. “I do not mean to insult Dale,” Serene went on. “I am ready to love him.”
So was Elliot. He had been trying for years, partly for Luke’s sake and partly for Dale’s own. It made Elliot feel guilty that he still found Dale painfully boring at times, especially when Dale was so good to him.
At times like these, warm with Dale’s regard and Serene’s, Elliot was prepared to admit the fault was his. If he was a better person, he would appreciate Dale more, and he would never dream that Dale’s kindness meant anything more than it did.
The mere idea was laughable. Elliot remembered how the kiss with Dale by the lake had ended, how Dale had been suffused with incredulous radiance to hear Luke Sunborn liked him. He had not given Elliot another thought. Serene had witnessed Dale expressing concern for Elliot tonight, and seen nothing amiss with it. Even Serene, who loved Elliot better than anyone in any world, knew that nobody would choose Elliot when they could have Luke.
And if that hurt sometimes, it was nothing Elliot had not known for years, and nothing he could not deal with.
Elliot finished drawing up the treaty. Serene was leaning companionably against him and reading when Luke came up to them. His wings were folded and he looked a little pale and tired, but he was entirely whole and unhurt. Elliot lifted a hand in greeting and, since Luke was being quiet, informed him of all the things that were going right in the world. Serene and Luke had rescued Elliot from being squashed by trolls, and peace seemed assured.
“We’re going to have a treaty, as soon as the harpies are done,” Elliot continued blithely. “I bothered Commander Woodsinger and she let me see a copy of the treaty and it was a mess, but I have some notes here and I think we’ll all be secure and the harpies will find it satisfactory—I asked Podarge—”
“Oh yes,” said Luke. “As soon as the harpies are done doing what, exactly?”
There was a silence, broken only by the distant shriek of harpies, and if you listened closely, the sound of tearing flesh.
Luke was standing over Elliot and Serene. There was a strange light in his eyes.
“I guess you’re not thinking about that,” he said softly. “All you’re thinking about is all you ever think about . . . how clever Elliot Schafer is, and how stupid the rest of the world is. Because you’re a snotty little brat.”
Elliot abruptly stopped trying to think about anything from Luke’s point of view. “I’m sorry,” he bit out. “Are you—Luke Sunborn—actually telling me that I think too much of myself?”
“I just want to know why, exactly, you think you’re so superior. You can’t fight, you don’t have any friends—”
Elliot had one friend. He had Serene. The truce between them had never been anything else, to Luke, and maybe nobody but Serene at the Border camp really cared about Elliot at all.
It was nothing Elliot did not know, and nothing he had ever thought Luke would rub in. Luke had everything. He could at least have the decency not to sneer at Elliot for having so little, even if it was Elliot’s own fault.
“I can’t fight?” Elliot snapped, because that was the only thing he could bear to address. “Who cares? Who wants to? But I forgot: that’s what you base your life on. Being one of the Sunborns, being warriors as if war is ever anything but a terrible failure of peace. Oh, I’m Luke Sunborn, nothing matters but what a good little soldier I am and how excellent I am at games and how I look and how everybody worships at my feet, and you’ll never realize how little any of that matters—how could you? You’re too stupid and narrow-minded: too wrapped up in strutting around convinced of how fantastic you are, being handed every break in the world.”
“It’s not easy!” Luke roared back. “Being a Sunborn, having everyone expect you to do it right and be the best, it’s not—”
If Luke thought having a family who loved him was so difficult, he should try the alternative.
“Oh, poor baby,” Elliot sneered. “Being Luke Sunborn is so hard! Even when I get wings they look perfect! I take every benefit of being a Sunborn and act like I don’t even notice them! My loving family have expectations of me!”
He did not expect his voice to sound as savage and resentful as it did, as if he hated Luke, as if he always had.