Someone did not want a woman in charge of the Border training camp. Someone had been willing to go beyond whispers and petty vandalism. Elliot wondered who had mounted the attack. Captain Whiteleaf was the only one whom he’d heard spoken of as a replacement for the commander, and Captain Whiteleaf would not have the nerve.
He slowly became aware that beside him, Serene was vibrating with outrage.
“Oh, men are cowards,” said Serene. “So afraid of a woman in charge that they would commit treason. They must worry that she will show the world a woman is a far more able commander than any man.”
“They’re not going to take Woodsinger’s command,” said Elliot. “Let them come and try.”
Serene looked at him. The lights of the torches of war were reflected in her cool gray eyes. She was panting and disheveled from battle, beautiful beyond his dreams, and she held onto his arms with strength far beyond any strength he had.
“When we saw the library roof catch fire . . .,” Serene began.
Her tight grip on him made Elliot think that she might be shaking if she were not holding on so hard. He could see her violent distress: Serene always ignored how different human ways were from her own, right up until the point she could not ignore it any more.
“You must have been furious.”
“I thought you had been killed,” Serene breathed, and kissed him.
They were kissing, they were finally kissing again, and this time Elliot was not too stunned to participate. He curled his fingers around her braid and drew her closer against him, kissed her and kissed her again.
He kissed her until they were both breathless, then he whispered breathlessly against her mouth: “No. Nope, I’m awesome.”
She kissed him again, pressing him against the threshold of the door. Her mouth was warm, searching, burning-sweet, and her body against his was lithe, strong, and urgent. Elliot realized her hold on his arms had changed: that she was tugging him downward. He kissed her throat and felt a spike of nerves in his own throat, as if he had swallowed a tiny shark of panic and could feel its fin scraping on the way down. He felt the warm beat of her pulse against his mouth and opened his lips to kiss her again, taste her skin, and to say he didn’t know what he was doing.
There was a sound, low and startled: Serene turned to it and let go of Elliot, though he reached out a hand to keep her.
His hand fell by his side when he looked where she was looking, and saw Luke. It was truly terrible luck that both Serene and Luke should make for the library as soon as the battle was over.
Luke had stopped and was staring at them, blue eyes very wide.
“I didn’t—” Luke began. “I’ll go. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
He turned around, boots cutting furrows in the mud with the force of his turn, and left. He had hardly been there for more than an instant.
“I should—” Serene began, blinking as if she was dazed.
She wasn’t looking at Luke’s retreating back. She was looking toward the commander’s tower. Elliot filled in the rest of the sentence for her: after years at the Border camp, he knew a soldier’s duty.
“You should go,” said Elliot. “Show that note to the commander. We can talk later.”
He stood in the doorway of the library for a long time, dazed himself, until it occurred to Elliot that he was in over his head, and he needed to find out more about women and how to please them immediately. Fortunately, he knew where he needed to go in order to obtain knowledge.
He was still dedicated to being tactful, so he waited an hour and half so that everyone could put out the fires before he sidled back into the library.
“I need some books full of elven lore,” said Elliot urgently.
Bright-Eyes-Gladden-the-Hearts-of-Women gave him a very suspicious look. “What kind of elven lore?”
Elliot gave up on subterfuge, clung to the counter, and said, “All right, you got me. I need some books full of specific elven instructions on how to please an elven lady.” Bright stared at Elliot, and Elliot wondered if he had perhaps misunderstood. “Sexually please her, I mean,” he clarified. “Very specific instructions, please. Do you know of a book like that?”
Bright drew in a deep breath. “How dare you?”
“The library is meant to be a place of learning, not of judgment,” said Elliot.
“I suppose you think that just because I am unmarried and in employment I am no better than a hussy peddling pornographic literature!”
“What?” Elliot said. “No. What?”
“I’ll have you know, I am dedicated to my passion for the written word,” Bright raged. “And one day, my true elven knight will come, and she will understand my love of literature and why I felt called to promote said love among human children. Moreover, I will come pure to my marriage bed, as all true gentlemen should aspire to do!”
Elliot took a moment to assimilate this new information. It was only a moment.
“Okay, cool, good for you,” said Elliot. “But what if . . . just for instance. . . a guy didn’t aspire to come pure to his marriage bed? Like, if he was no true gentleman, but a hussy? Is there any advice for hussies in this library? I need advice for hussies.”
Bright-Eyes-Gladden-the-Hearts-of-Women made it clear the only thing hussies were going to get in his library was detention.
Elliot gave up. There were other avenues to find out these kind of things, he’d heard: you were meant to learn all you needed to know through something called “bro time.” What he needed was a little help from his friends.
It was well after dinner, but the tables were crowded with people talking about the attack on the library. Elliot did hear a few people speculating on who had ordered Border guards to go after their own people: some familiar names were being thrown around. Captain Whiteleaf was nowhere to be found, though he had not been sent out on any missions, and all messages sent to Colonel Whiteleaf’s fortress received no response.
And yet nobody had come out in open rebellion against Commander Woodsinger.
They could not be sure the Whiteleafs were the ones in mutiny, any more than they could be sure who else was on their side.
They could not tell what side those who had been killed had taken. Nobody alive who had remained in the camp would admit they had fought against the commander. Nobody’s accusations of others, or defence of themselves, could be trusted. They all wore the same uniform. They were all supposed to be on the same side.
The commander had given no statement, and no new orders. Elliot did not know if ignoring unrest would make it go away.
Elliot heard Commander Woodsinger’s name being spoken, in sympathetic and critical tones, and took note of who was truly on her side and who was not.
On the other hand, there were also idiots busy congratulating each other on their first skirmish or describing it as a “good little fight.” Elliot gave up on eavesdropping and surged forward. It was the work of a few moments for Elliot to cut through the crowds, elbowing people judiciously, and separate Dale Wavechaser from the throng.
Dale grinned at him when Elliot grabbed his elbow and forcibly turned him around.