Page 67 of A Fractured Song

Azai made an angry noise in his throat. “So now you’re wiser and more knowledgeable than Father, are you?”

“I didn’t say that.” Zev frowned at him. “But none of us know everything. Father is wise enough to know that.”

“I am,” the older man acknowledged. He rested one fist lightly on the decorative top of the nearest chair. “But my judgment isn’t affected the way yours is in this instance, Zev.”

“No, it’s affected in other ways,” Zev challenged.

“Enough of this.” Azai pushed away from the counter, impatient. “What have you told Marieke, Zev? Did you tell her who we are?”

“No, I didn’t.” Zev scowled. “You know I didn’t.”

“How could we know?” Azai challenged. “I don’t even know if I believe you.”

“Your brother is no liar,” said their mother sternly. “I believe him. Marieke clearly didn’t understand why we all disapprove so much of her being a singer. If she knew our full history, she would understand.”

Zev turned to his mother, frowning. “About that, Mother, you spoke out of turn.”

“I believe I was doing her a kindness.” Narelle shrugged. “Pretending things are different from how they are won’t help anyone.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Zev said, beginning to feel agitated. Part of him wanted to make clear to his family just how real were his feelings for Marieke, but it would only make them angrier. Besides which it was none of their business.

“Then why did you bring her here?” Azai demanded.

“Because she needed help, and we were close by!” Zev kepthis voice from becoming a shout with difficulty. None of them wanted Marieke to overhear this conversion from her room. “This is my home, too, Azai. We’d barely escaped in one piece, we were both exhausted, and we were quite possibly still in danger. Where should I have taken her?”

“Let her go to her own people for help,” Azai insisted. “It’s too dangerous to keep dragging us into it.”

“What are you suggesting, Azai?” Zev demanded. “That I just left her by the side of the road, like you wanted to the first time we met her? Even though this time she could barely walk from the energy she’d spent saving my life as well as hers?”

Azai just shrugged, obviously having no real answer.

“Let me make one thing very clear.” Zev’s voice quavered slightly with tension. “I haven’t ever forgotten my loyalty to this family, and I never will. That loyalty made me walk away from Marieke before, even though I hated myself for doing it. But that was when she was safe and in her own country. No loyalty will make me turn my back on her and desert her when she’s alone, injured, and inourland. Where would my honor be?”

“Relax, Zev, no one is actually saying you should have abandoned her by the highway,” his father said. “But you have to agree that the whole situation is regrettable.”

“I don’t have to agree anything.” Zev could hear the surly note in his voice.

“Let’s stop arguing about things that are already done,” his mother interjected. “Why don’t you tell us what happened while you were gone? You made it into Sundering Canyon, I take it?”

Zev deflated, flopping back in his chair in a gesture of defeat. “Yes,” he said. “We did.”

“Marieke said things got strange,” his mother prompted.

Zev nodded slowly, still struggling to believe all they’d seen. “That’s an understatement. And the monarchists were the least of it.”

He told them everything he and Marieke had experienced, from the elves to Svetlana’s attempt to hold them captive, to their impossible escape up the cliff face. He had the satisfaction of seeing the anger fade from even Azai’s eyes, all three of his listeners too astonished by the tale to maintain disapproval.

“The worst of it is,” he finished, shoving a slice of apple into his mouth, “they destroyed my best sword.”

“I wonder what exactly happened with the magic of the canyon,” his father mused. “It troubles me that these elves seemed to take an interest in you as well as Marieke.”

“Hold on,” protested Azai. “Back up. I’m still caught on the fact that elves are real! They were really like the miniature men from the fables?”

“They were miniature,” Zev said. “But they weren’t much like the stories otherwise. Except for the bargaining thing. That seemed to be true.” He studied his father’s face. “You truly didn’t know they were real?”

“Of course not,” his father said, looking slightly hurt. “Everything I know, I’ve told you.”

“But how could we have such a big hole in our knowledge of the past?” Zev pressed.

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