“Wait, I’m confused,” said Luke. Before Elliot could express how unsurprised he was, Luke went on, deadpan: “There’s something you haven’t read? How is that possible?”
“Ha ha, shut your loser face,” said Elliot, pleased that Luke seemed to be on a more even keel than he had been on the first day.
Luke looked out the window, where the sun was setting and light was brimming against dark hills, like a vast candle burned down almost to the wick. “When we get word back about Serene,” he said softly, “I’m going to—”
There were running footsteps outside the door. Elliot’s heart turned with the door handle. The door creaked open and Elliot’s ex-student Cyril Leigh came tiptoeing in.
“I, uh, brought you the letter as soon as it came,” he offered. “I was watching just like you said.”
“Thank you.” Elliot accepted the letter graciously.
Cyril lingered at the table, doing a small humble tap dance.
“You did say . . .,” he said at last.
“Oh, right. Luke, pay the man,” commanded Elliot.
“You’re unbelievable,” said Luke, reaching for his money pouch.
Elliot found this hurtful. He wasn’t paid for going to magic school, and his father obviously could not give him pocket money in the Borderlands’ legal tender. He found it hurtful that Luke would think he was so unimaginative that he’d promise the kid money.
Cyril held out the one-page newspaper called the Border Daily, with Luke’s picture emblazoned on the front. Luke recoiled like a vampire faced with a cross.
“Would you sign it?” asked Cyril.
“Sign it,” Elliot said.
Luke opened his mouth to either protest or vehemently refuse, but then he was caught in the depths of Cyril’s powerful puppy eyes. He sighed heavily, gave Elliot a filthy look, and signed the paper.
“Thank you so much, Luke,” said Cyril, blushing and leaving.
At any other time, Elliot would have teased Luke unmercifully and at length, but as soon as Cyril was outside the door he was ripping open the letter. Luke was up and standing behind his chair, reading over his shoulder.
It was Swift who had come through and written with news. Elliot’s careful letter had paid off: he had not let himself betray how serious the situation was, only expressed masculine flutterings. Swift, simple soldier that she was, had in her attempts to soothe his delicate feelings let slip several pieces of information about the elves that Elliot was sure the elves didn’t want them to know. She had also said several terrible things about Elliot’s stained virtue and presumed availability. She had also mentioned that Serene was in the eastern woods, alive and unhurt, and in fact much admired by the gentle elven nurses on the battlefield for her valor.
“She’s okay,” Elliot burst out, in case Luke hadn’t got to that part yet.
“Yeah,” said Luke. “And we know where she is. I’m going to find her.”
Elliot twisted around in his chair. “No you are not. Because doing so would be an act of war.”
Luke spluttered. “Oh, like you haven’t stowed away or sneaked along on every single mission—”
“When did I not stow away?” Elliot asked. “Oh right, when there was an actual war.”
“Of course not,” Luke snapped. “You’d have been killed. But I’m not like you—I can actually help.”
“Really?” Elliot asked. “So you go in, and you get killed, and the Border guard come in to avenge you. Then the elves are fighting a war on two fronts. Or Serene tries to help you, and gets executed for treason. Which of those scenarios is actually helpful for Serene, in your mind?”
“I can fight!”
“I know you can fight!” said Elliot. “The point is, they won’t let you. It’s not fair. There’s got to be a long-term solution. I’ve got twelve books on elven customs in my room that I need to consult on the matter, but right now you and Serene both signed on to be soldiers, and that means you signed on to obey the rules of warfare. If you’ve decided to quit being a soldier, then I’m more delighted than I can say. Have you?”
Luke looked away, toward the window, where there was almost no light left. His jaw worked for a moment, then he shook his head. “All right. But the second I can go after her, I will go after her.”
Elliot sighed. “For now, get used to being useless.”
Elliot felt useless, even now when he was limp with relief. It was a horrible anticlimax to have information and not be able to use it, no matter how glad you were to have it. Now that he knew Serene was all right, he had to learn how to live his life in the Border camp without Serene and thus without Luke. He had his plans: getting to know Myra better, doing this play. He was even looking forward to it, but it did feel very strange.
“Well . . .,” Elliot said. “See you later.”
“Uh, okay,” said Luke. “See you later.”
Elliot put the plan for his new life into action the moment he entered the lunchroom, and swooped down on the table where Peter, Myra, and various other council trainees were eating. “Hello, Myra. You look very pretty today. Is this seat taken?”
Myra beamed at him. “No, please sit. Where’s Luke?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Elliot. “Can you pinpoint the location of every random classmate we have?”
“Hey,” said Luke, and sat down beside Elliot. He got some serious side-eye from the girl sitting on his other side, Carla Summersong, but he didn’t seem to notice because he was giving Elliot some side-eye of his own.
Elliot despaired.
“There you are!” said Myra.
Elliot double despaired.
“Guys, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re in the middle of talking about our play,” said Carla. She turned to Luke and adopted a kindly, patronizing air. “Do you even know what Radiant and Jewel is?”
Luke blinked. “A genre-defining classic tale of elven love and tragedy, possibly the most influential fictional romance of all time?”
There was a silence. Elliot was surprised, because he would have thought the sound of every atom in his body exploding with indignation might make some noise.
“Oh, wow.” Myra looked impressed. “I had no idea you were a theatre buff, Luke!”
“That’s so cool,” said Carla. “I wish my boyfriend was interested in the arts.”
Another girl, this one from the year below, leaned forward and made a grab for one of Luke’s hands. Carla and Myra were already holding onto a forearm each.
“Luke,” said the new girl. “Do you think the play is too challenging for us to produce? Be honest. I truly value your input.”
“Um, no,” said Luke. “I think it’ll be . . . interesting to see what approach a human production takes to not only the dialogue but the costumes and setting.”
“I so agree,” said Carla Summersong.
“I agree more,” said the new girl.
“I’m plotting your death,” said Elliot.
“Um,” Luke said. “If you think about it, this is a real opportunity to present a balanced middle ground for both species through art.”