Page 121 of Forged in Fading

He looked down at her hand, his eyes dull. “I will do what I have to. I always do.”

“You don’t have to do this. Rav or anyone else could do it.” Actually, Rav was the only elf who came to mind who possessed the wherewithal to commit such atrocities. “I can’t watch you add more lives to your conscience. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

His fingers brushed against hers. “I accepted that fact a long time ago.” The buzzing in her gut turned to stones. “I have the most experience with…this, and I won’t force anyone else to go through with it. It has to be me. Enjoy the festival, I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.”

“Boden.” She reached up and turned his face toward her. She wanted to make him look her in the eye while he made this choice. “This isn’t you.”

His breath hitched, and her muscles relaxed just a fraction. Maybe he had changed his mind. “I truly wish it wasn’t.” He removed her hand, severing the connection with his warm skin. The gentle nature of his movements made the impending violence all the more difficult to stomach. “But any information we can gather on his forces and plans could change everything. I’ll see you at the festival.”

Boden disappeared into the darkness, and she left before the screams began.

Chapter Forty-Two

She wasn’t even angry, not really. This feeling, it was sorrow—the part of her heart that tore itself apart when she glimpsed into Boden’s mind and saw how little he valued himself. How he would continue to sacrifice slivers of his soul for others, until there was nothing left.

Responsibilities be damned, Alvara needed to get as drunk as…well, herself three years ago.

The humans she passed on her way to the sleeping halls all donned bright, cheerful colors, and the street hummed with a vibrancy that reminded her too much of Jolval. Alvara’s wardrobe options for the festival included her current sweaty beige shirt and brown pants, stained with what she was fairly sure was last night’s dinner, or another similarly dreary set of clothes, peppered with Vigi’s dirty pawprints that refused to come out, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

It didn’t matter. There would be no one there she wanted to impress.

She spotted Kat inside, who was securing a few twists of her curls with a silver hairpin composed of woven knots. Her dress was breathtaking—shimmering white fabric with deep purple flowers embroidered down each side of her chest, leaving the delicate Nyrian tattoos on her sternum exposed while sheer lilac material flowed down her arms to her wrists.

How she had managed to find such a dress was beyond Alvara, but Kat deserved that and so much more for all of the tireless hours she spent each day scouting and putting herself in danger for others.

“How do you feel about getting drunk out of our minds tonight?” Alvara asked as she settled herself on top of Kat’s sleeping hide.

“Yes!” Lilja ran up to them and sat next to Alvara. She wore a simple yellow dress with white flowers, and Alvara wove a few small braids down the back of her hair as she spoke.

“I meant Kat, Lilja. But you should join us, just maybe with water instead.”

Lilja pouted. “None of you ever let me have any fun.”

“To answer your question, I am more than ready to drink my weight in ale,” Kat said. “Aurilena never wants to do anything remotely interesting.” She pointed to a package lying next to Alvara. “Also, Boden dropped off something for you. No idea what it is, but if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”

“Ooh,” Lilja said, sharing one of those looks with Kat.

Alvara rolled her eyes and picked up the present. Boden. That was who she needed to forget, at least for tonight. And possibly the impending war and destruction too. Forgetting that didn’t sound too bad either. Alvara’s fingers hovered above the folded note on top of the paper-wrapped package. Gods, just open it.

Happy Elafestir. Enjoy yourself tonight, goose. I hope the gods deem me lucky enough to have the chance to see you in this before the night is over.

The inked letters flowed and curved, almost as perfect as its creator. Alvara tossed the paper aside—she needed ale, and quick.

What had that madman bought her? She unwrapped the package and gasped. The dress. The one she had admired so many weeks ago at the market, but instead of red, it was made from an exquisite pale blue fabric, even softer than Vigi’s fur. Her favorite color.

Kat admired the dress alongside Lilja. “At least he puts his blood money to good use, buying us gifts for the holiday.”

“Gifts?” Alvara asked.

“For Elafestir,” Kat said. “It’s a human tradition. They give each other gifts to celebrate the arrival of ela. Most demi-elves don’t even celebrate it, except you-know-who. He’s normally the only one of us who does. I’m still surprised I got a hair pin out of it.”

Oh. He had bought presents for all of them…the dress, the note—it didn’t hold a deeper meaning. Not that it mattered, least of all to Alvara. Intentions aside, it was a lovely thing, and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

“It’s so pretty!” Lilja lifted the dress up and twirled it. “I’m definitely going to guilt him into buying me one.”

It fit like it had been made especially for Alvara. Even the shoulders didn’t squeeze the life out of her, and every movement and swish made the white vines and flowers on the outer and inner skirt come to life. She braided the sides of her hair back, leaving the rest unbound, and tugged out a few gray tendrils to frame her face.

“Stunning,” Kat said as she linked arms with her. “I have something I want to show you. Lilja, we’ll meet you at the chief’s meeting hall?” She patted Alvara’s arm as they exited the sleeping hall. “If you hate it, you can drink enough ale for ten men and forget it for eternity.”