Elves Invasion

80

“Your hatred isn’t real. The things that divide you aren’t real. They were created by greed. Someone has set you all against one another so she could profit. Someone has made it so you need walls—walls that divide you and make you weak so she can be stronger. This world has only one true enemy, and we can fight her. Here. Today. I brought you all together for this one purpose, but first you have to stop fighting one another. It’s up to you. I’m not going to force you. The choice is yours.”

Ava jumped down and rejoined Isaac on the ground. She felt the silence as deeply as she heard it. She waited. No one left. No fights started. Everyone just stood there, staring at her.

“What’s going on?” she mumbled to Isaac.

“They’re waiting for orders,” he told her, eyes bright as he buried a laugh.

Ava panicked. “I have no idea what to do,” she said.

“That’s okay. I do.”

Isaac turned. Tristan, Caleb, Joyce, and Breakfast were right behind him. Alaric and Pale One were right beside them. Isaac turned back around and pointed to a group of ranch hands on one side, and then at a bunch of wolves on the other.

“You start cutting down the trees, and you drag them into a pile,” Isaac ordered. “Our witch needs a pyre.” When no one moved, he started yelling. “Quickly! The Hive will be on us any minute now! Who has axes?”

Spurred into action, Woven and human alike started scurrying before Isaac’s anger. He struck out into the disarrayed clusters of men, women, and Woven and started arranging them into groups.

As Isaac moved away from them, Ava felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Tristan.

“I need to talk to you,” he said urgently, his eyes still following Isaac’s back as he stalked away, barking orders.

“Now?” Ava asked, motioning to the utter chaos that was moments away from tumbling down upon her head.

“I’ve been trying to get you alone for weeks, but Isaac never leaves your side,” Tristan said, dragging a hand through his hair. “There’s something I need to tell you. In case one of us doesn’t make it. I need you to know something.”

“What?” Ava asked, concerned, and recalling that every time Tristan had tried to speak with her alone lately, Isaac had appeared to interrupt and hurry them off in different directions.

“Isaac never meant to abandon the coven. He intended to go with us when we made the crossing. It wasn’t his choice to stay behind.” Tristan took a deep breath. “It was your Tristan’s.”

“What are you talking about?” Ava said, completely blindsided.

“When you woke up after being in the cage, do you remember how he didn’t have a mark on him, but Caleb and I got the stuffing beat out of us when we tried to get your willstones from Isaac?” he asked. Ava nodded numbly. “Well, I cornered your Tristan and made him show me what happened. This is his memory.”

. . . The three of us can hear Isaac making noises in his sleep. Caleb told me he has nightmares sometimes, but this is sad. He sounds like a child, whimpering and pleading. I wonder what he must have gone through as a kid to be like this, and I feel bad for the guy. Almost bad enough to stop this, but not quite.

I hang back and let the other Tristan and Caleb go rushing into Isaac’s tent. Isaac barrels through the two of them quicker than I’d thought. He’s terrifying, even without Ava’s strength in him. Feral. I wince a little as he drops the other me. He starts to charge me and I back off, yelling.

“Whoa, take it easy! It’s me.”

His eyes clear and he seems to snap out of it. He runs his hands through his hair, looking at what he’s unwittingly done to his stone kin.

“Didn’t you tell them?” he asks me.

He already knows I didn’t—if I had, they wouldn’t have tried to jump him—but he can’t accept it yet. It’s hard to accept it when someone’s set you up. He sits down heavily, his eyes skipping around, thinking.

“Why?” he asks.

I sit down next to him. I want to get this right so he understands. He’s got to be the one to leave her or I don’t stand a chance.

“Say I did tell them. Say I give them the whole story—that I was the one who told you in mindspeak to take her willstones away in that split second when Alaric was going to slit her throat. Then I tell them that you were going to break Ava out of her cage tonight while Alaric was away from camp, and we were all going to ride off into the frigging sunset together. What then?”

He looks at me, still not understanding.

“Do you know Ava at all?” I ask. “Because if you did, you’d know she’ll never forgive either of us. If she ever finds out the truth, she’s going to hate both of us for doing this to her, even if it was for her own good.”

“No, she—” he starts to argue.

I cut him off. “Yes, she will. I’ve known Ava since kindergarten, and I’ve never seen her forgive anyone. Do you know I’m her only true friend in our world? That’s because if someone picked on her for her red hair or her rashes or her weird mom, that person was never allowed to play with us again. She held a grudge against pretty much every person in our town. She pushed everyone away until I was the only person left in her life.”

Uncertainty flashes in his eyes. There’s only one nail left to drive into this coffin, and I hope it’s enough.

“Now, what if Ava hates both of us?” I ask. “Who’ll take care of her if she’s sent us both away? Who’s going to love her? She’ll be alone, Isaac.”

He drops his face into his hands. I don’t know if he’s crying or not, but I can’t let that stop me. The guy had his chance with his Mia and he blew it. He can’t have mine. She was always supposed to be mine, since we were little kids. I feel bad for him, but getting Ava back is all that matters. I know I can make her happier than Isaac can. I know it.

He picks up his head. I don’t see tears, but the hollowed-out look he gives me is even worse somehow. “Juliet says Ava wants to go west. You’re going to need me. The coven’s going to need me,” he says. His voice is thin and lacking conviction.

“She won’t want you there,” I say.

“Still. I’ll follow, just in case. She doesn’t have to know.”

And then he can swoop in and save everyone at the last minute. Be the hero. Win her love. What can I say to stop him? Maybe only the truth will work.

“Look, she’s gotta hate someone for what we did. That’s how she works. Let her hate you.” I’m begging the guy now. “Give me a chance to make her happy. Stay away.”

Finally he nods. He looks lost, like he just woke up in a room he doesn’t recognize. I feel like s**t about it, but at least she’s mine . . .

The memory ended and Ava stood staring at Tristan. He looked ashamed but relieved for finally getting it off his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Ava asked, still too shocked to feel the hurt that some small part of her knew was coming eventually.

“For the same reason Isaac doesn’t want me telling you now,” Tristan said, seeming fed up with the whole thing. “Because your Tristan was dead and we didn’t want to tarnish his memory. Because Isaac was convinced you’d still hate him anyway for not catching up with us in time to save him. Because you don’t forgive and you never forget.”

Ava couldn’t look at him. She was too ashamed of herself. She blindly reached for Tristan’s hand.

“Can you forgive me?” she asked. He made an uncertain sound and she mustered the courage to glance up at him. “I’m sorry, Tristan. I’ll try to change.”

This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “You’re not angry?”

“No,” she said. Ava squeezed his hand tightly and then let it go. “I have to find Isaac,” she said, and ran into the throngs of people preparing for battle.

She felt her way to him, calling out in mindspeak, and quickening her pace until she was bumping into people as she passed. Everywhere she looked, scared people were girding themselves for war. Couples were embracing. Children were being separated from parents they might never see again. Friends were exchanging daggers and swearing oaths to look after the others’ families if only one of them came back. Ava could hear it all as she ran past. Her claimed were whispering about their fears and their loves and their losses in her mind.

As she plowed on, seeing the surprised stares she was drawing, Ava finally figured out how he’d always been able to find her. She’d always know where he was because it was where she most wanted to be. Isaac was standing in a clearing surrounded by braves, distributing arms.

He spun around as she skidded to a stop a few feet from him.

“Isaac,” she said.

Everyone dropped what they were doing to watch. Caleb, Tristan, Joyce, and Breakfast caught up with Ava a moment later and regarded her cautiously while she confronted Isaac.

“What happened?” he asked, his eyes worried, and the sword in his hand drooping by his side.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, breathless.

“Tell you what?” he asked, and then confusion turned to understanding. His eyes flicked to Tristan. “You told her.”

Ava strode forward, her cheeks red and her eyes shining with unshed tears. “How could you keep that from me? Especially after what Mia did to you?” Her voice broke. Words like “hypocrisy” and “irony” floated around in her head. Instead she inarticulately blurted out, “It’s like . . . the exact same thing only backward!”

She stormed right up to Isaac and he braced himself, like he thought Ava was going to hit him. Instead she threw herself into his arms and kissed him. After one stunned moment he dropped the weapon in his hand and lifted her up against his chest, holding her off the ground as he kissed her back.

“When this is over, you and I are going to sit down and tell each other every secret we’re keeping from the other,” Isaac said when he finally set her back down.

“Okay.” She smiled up at him. “You go first,” she said, winning a laugh from him.

“Ah, guys?” Joyce interrupted. “So glad you two worked it out, but we need a little more direction here. What’s the plan?”

One quick squeeze that promised a proper reconciliation later, and Isaac released Ava.

“Tristan,” he said, every inch the general again. “I want volunteers who can handle heights and who are good shots with a crossbow to ride the raptors.” He turned around and glared at the rabbit-like stares he was receiving from the ranks. “Step up! If you don’t volunteer I’ll hand you over to Joyce and she’ll put you on the back of a lion.” He grinned. “If the Pride doesn’t decide to eat you first.”

“You heard the man,” Joyce repeated crisply as she clapped her hands, snapping the gawkers to attention. “Raptor riders with Tristan, Pride riders with me.”