Vann clicks his tongue. “You already told me we were alone in this section of the dungeon.”
I can practically feel Thorne roll his eyes. “Despite what you might believe, I have helped her since the moment she left that island.”
Vann scoffs.
“Laugh all you’d like, troll, but you have no idea what it is to be me. I found acceptance in Mrath’s court, but I am still a half-blood. Do you know what that means?” Thorne says, his voice low.
“You might experience some unkindness, but you seem to have lived a life well enough.”
“Wrong. I grew up in a labor camp—something that replaced the prisoner camps after the war. Half-bloods have no place in elven society, just like humans. How many others like me have you known?” he demands.
Vann goes quiet. I certainly didn’t know any others like Thorne.
“I imagine the answer is ‘none’ because most of us die before we have a chance to be let free.”
“Did you escape?” Vann asks.
“Mrath came to the camp and took me and my sister,” Thorne says.
Shock ripples through me. A sister? I didn’t know Thorne had any kin.
Vann doesn’t say anything, but I crack one eye open in the darkness to look at Thorne. He’s never been so open before, not even when I’d asked him direct questions in my rooms.
“And what happened to her?”
“She’s dead.” Thorne stops talking for a long moment, arranging instruments and herbs in his kit. He avoids my gaze. So much time passes that I think he is done speaking.
And then he says, “She was exceptionally powerful and talented, and beautiful on top of all that. The gods blessed her. When the time of the choosing was starting, Mrath wanted to make sure that she was the only logical option. I helped her. Arion, at that time, was running another kind of experiment, though I doubt he knew how much Mrath had done to influence his choice. Now, he seeks a human to give him an heir, as it was back then. His throne has been a constant struggle for a very long time.”
“Can half-bloods reproduce?”
Thorne shrugs. “There were reports that said yes, but my sister wasn’t able to.”
“Wait—was she in a program of some sort?”
Thorne looks up at the wall. Then meets my eyes.
“My sister was the last consort before Arlet. They gave her six months, and then she was executed.”
My heart skips a beat, and the conversation in my room comes back to me.
She was a half-blood…More elf than human, everyone said. As if that made a difference.
It takes earnest effort not to wake up now, but I don’t want either of them to stop talking.
“After he killed her, I believe that is when Arion pledged himself to Abhartach, to help stabilize his reign.”
Vann is quiet for a long time, then says, “It seems your story is more complex than I originally gave you credit for.”
“When I knew what Arion was planning, that he was going to try this again, I went to him. He didn’t know me—didn’t recognize that I share features with my sister. He just saw a defector from his own kin, and welcomed me after an…arduous vetting.”
Torture, I imagine.
“I knew that sooner or later, Arlet would be here, and I saw my chance to make this union mean something.”
“Like what?”
“When Arlet bound herself to Arion and became the consort, a law went into effect. Humans andPeredhelsare to be released from labor camps and given rights.”