“Fortunately, I have a solution! You have to spend lots of time one on one with Luke and assure him of your continued platonic affection,” Elliot told her. “He just needs bro time.”
Serene regarded him with eyes that shone with what Elliot thought was tenderness. She shook her head. “I would never have realized all that. Masculine intuition is a wonderful thing.”
“I am pretty intuitive,” Elliot said, with beautiful simplicity. “And sensitive. And New Age.”
Serene leaned in, the light of admiration still in her eyes, and kissed him. Her mouth was soft and cool, and he felt warm all over.
“I’ll go now,” she whispered. “But I’ll see you tonight.”
Elliot’s brilliance thus left him alone at his lunch table. Many occupants of the room were staring. He sat smugly radiant until Peter cautiously approached.
“Whoa, you tamed an elf, good job, buddy,” said Peter.
Elliot eyed him with disfavor. “I didn’t tame her. She’s not a pet.”
“Oh, so she tamed you? I heard elves were into that.”
Myra was definitely Elliot’s favorite forever. “Nobody is anybody’s pet.”
“Um, I’m probably saying the wrong thing. Sorry, man,” said Peter. He put down his tray with a glum little thunk. “I don’t have much luck with girls myself. My dad says it runs in our family.”
“Er . . . how does he explain your mother?” Elliot asked.
“To tell you the truth, I think he means my mother. My mum’s family is from the Borderlands—generation of Waterwrits after generation—and you know my dad is from the world outside. It’s an adjustment, of course . . . you’d know . . . but my dad couldn’t go back, after the Border camp. Things are always a bit strained at home.”
“I’m sorry,” said Elliot after a moment, and forced out: “I know what that’s like.”
Elliot put down Peter’s view of his romance to his bad home life, but to his surprise, he found most people had a similar reaction: they either wanted to congratulate him or were condescending in his direction.
He was the significant other of an elf, but he hadn’t expected to be made into The Significant Other rather than being Elliot. He hadn’t thought he enjoyed it when people looked at him with exasperation, but it was infinitely better than being looked past.
Not that people had stopped looking at him with exasperation. That was made very clear a few days later, when the dust of battle had settled in the camp, and the bloodstains in the dust had faded until you might think they were something else, unless you knew better.
One of Elliot’s dorm mates, Benjamin Rainfall, had died in the battle. Elliot remembered how he had always begged Elliot to blow out his candle, stop reading, and let him sleep. Elliot wished he had let him sleep now.
Elliot was walking from the library to his cabin, wearing an illicit hoodie against the winter chill and all alone because Luke and Serene were spending bro time together, when he saw Delia Winterchild going for Richard Plantgrown’s throat.
“Uh,” said Elliot, catching her wrist so she did not stab Richard. “Maybe we could indulge in some cutting repartee instead?”
“He was fighting on Whiteleaf’s side, you know,” Delia snapped. “I saw him kill Ben.”
Elliot was tempted to drop Delia’s wrist and walk away, but Whiteleaf and Woodsinger had a truce now. That meant they all had to have a truce as well.
“Fight’s over,” he said, and held on.
“And the wrong side won,” Richard snapped. “Because you sneaked around and made it happen. Don’t think I don’t know.”
Richard lifted his hand. Elliot didn’t want to let go of Delia, so he couldn’t shield himself. Elliot braced himself to be hit.
“Hey,” said Luke, swooping down on them. Elliot didn’t even know where he’d come from, he’d moved that fast. “Cadets shouldn’t fight each other. And they certainly shouldn’t put a council-training cadet in the middle of a fight!”
“He put himself in the middle,” Richard protested.
“Sorry,” said Luke, calmly scathing. “Are you telling me you’re having problems handling a council-training cadet?”
Luke regarded Richard with lofty Sunborn disdain until Richard growled something like a negative and slunk away.
“We didn’t need your help,” Delia barked at him, and stalked off. Luke watched her go with raised eyebrows.
“That girl,” he began.
“Delia Winterchild,” Elliot supplied.
“She’s always bad-tempered,” Luke remarked. “Now she’s starting fights and dragging you into them?”
She’s not bad-tempered, Elliot thought, remembering taking Delia’s hand in his when she came back from the wars and her brother did not. She just doesn’t like you. He thought Luke might have trouble understanding the concept.
He also felt an impulse to explain why Delia and Richard were fighting, but what was the point? Then there would be even more cadets who hated and mistrusted each other.
Elliot shrugged. “I guess she’s bad-tempered.”
“Oh,” said Luke, with a small grin, always pleased when Elliot agreed with him. “So you were standing up for her because you two have a lot in common.”
“That’s it,” said Elliot, and grinned back at him.
“Stop wearing contraband,” said Luke, flipping Elliot’s hood over his hair. Elliot had barely seen Luke in three days, but possibly Luke had now had enough bro time and was ready to stop sulking.
“I’m a rebel without a cloak,” said Elliot. “I know Delia, actually. I like her.”
“Really,” said Luke, his voice colder.
“What?” Elliot snapped.
“You haven’t even been dating Serene a week,” said Luke, and stomped off.
Now Luke was being protective of Serene, as if Elliot would ever hurt her? Maybe that was what always happened, when you dated someone’s best friend. Maybe they would always see you as a potential enemy, always be ready to take their friend’s side against you, just in case.
Elliot thought about being on different sides, and those loyal to Commander Woodsinger and those loyal to Colonel Whiteleaf. In his books about magic lands, the evildoers had horns, or at least had the decency to wear outfits composed entirely of black leather. Sometimes there was one traitor on the good side, but he didn’t remember any stories about teams who wore the same uniform splitting up and turning against each other. Usually the traitor was banished, too. People did not have to learn how to live with each other again, after trust was broken between them.
Elliot stood staring down the dark paths to the many cabins where the cadets slept. Every year, he thought, things got more complicated, and there were so many ways to lose.
The next day Commander Woodsinger left word for Elliot to come to her office. He found Luke and Serene already there, both standing to attention. Their offensively military posture shamed Elliot into a half-hearted salute.
“Hey, Commander,” he said. “Is this about getting medals? Because it’s not necessary, really, it was our pleas—”
Luke coughed pointedly.
“Shh, my dear,” said Serene, and put her hand on Elliot’s arm.