The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,53
You realize that, right?”
“Mellianne, enough.”
“Did you tell him?” Mellianne countered, turned toward their boss. “Did you tell him what happened to the last person partnered with Elluvian?”
“Enough.” The word sounded gentle.
Mellianne shut her mouth. Audibly. She didn’t wait to be dismissed. She left the desk and the office, the heaviness of her step belying her size.
Silence descended. It took effort to overlook Mellianne’s comments—but not much of it. Elluvian was Barrani. If his duties involved the Barrani, normal humans—even those trained as Wolves—didn’t stand much of a chance.
“No questions?”
Severn shook his head.
“You don’t want to know?”
“I don’t need to know. Unless Mellianne’s implying that Elluvian killed him.”
“Not directly, no.”
“You send Elluvian after Barrani.”
“The Emperor does, yes. Look at me, boy.”
Severn did.
“I don’t need—or want—suicidal Wolves. Value your own life; this isn’t meant to be a method for throwing it away that absolves you of responsibility for your own survival.” These words were harsher.
“I don’t intend to die in the line of duty,” Severn replied. Then, briefly, “Rosen already gave me the lecture.” She’d waited until he was eating, assuming there’d be less chance of interruption. It happened she was right.
The Wolflord grinned. “You’ll do. Darrell allowed himself to believe that he was Elluvian’s equal.”
“And I won’t?”
“You understand the advantages the Barrani enjoy. You don’t appear to resent them.”
“Would it change anything?”
“Resentment is seldom subject to practical considerations of that nature.”
“Is it?” Severn bent his head. Lifted it. “I understand wanting to be stronger,” he finally said. “I wanted to be stronger. But Elluvian is—the Barrani are—faster, stronger, Immortal. Resenting that I’m not would be like resenting the rain.”
“You’d rather find an umbrella?”
“I’d rather find shelter.” Umbrellas had been no part of that shelter. Severn didn’t feel up to explaining his life to a man who had never lived it.
“Good. I am uncertain that this probationary period is going to be either comfortable or safe.”
“For me?”
“For either of you. Elluvian isn’t usually this cagey, and when he is, it implies a depth of politics that the Wolves are unsuited to navigate. You will have to take your lead from him—but I see, by your clothing, that you’re doing just that.”
“Was Darrell hunting Barrani?”
“Yes.” The Wolflord exhaled. “He was considered the most promising of the young Wolves; he was quick, clever, focused. There is always a danger when hunting Barrani, but none of us expected his death. Mellianne, as you have seen, has still not forgiven Elluvian for it. She believes that if Elluvian had desired it, Darrell would have survived.”
“Do you?”
“He is not the only Wolf we have lost in training.” The Wolflord rose from his desk, a signal that this meeting was over. “Not many of the Wolves retire in old age. We are Imperial Executioners—but it is seldom that those who have been condemned accept the Imperial edict with grace.”
* * *
Mellianne was sitting on the edge of Rosen’s desk when Severn left the Wolflord’s office. She didn’t look friendly, but Severn didn’t expect friendliness from strangers; her lack of welcome made him more comfortable, not less.
She pushed herself off the desk, and behind her back, Rosen rolled her eyes. She offered Severn no warning, but her expression—resigned, weary—made it clear that Mellianne was always prickly; there was no surprise in it.
“You always dress like that?” Mellianne asked, giving the clothing Elluvian had purchased a much more thorough once-over.
“Only at work.”
“What do you wear when you’re on your own time?”
“What you’re wearing.”
Rosen coughed. Mellianne turned instantly to look at the older woman, but Rosen didn’t seem intimidated by the expression Severn couldn’t see.
“Where do you call home, then?”
Home? It wasn’t a question the Wolflord had asked. Nor was it a question Elluvian or Rosen had asked. Severn shrugged. “I don’t.”
“You don’t have a home?”
“Not anymore.”
This seemed to give Mellianne pause. A pause, however, wasn’t a full stop. “You lost your family?”
And this was not something Severn wanted to discuss with a stranger. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with anyone. He offered a fief shrug instead of an answer; it was a closed door.
Mellianne didn’t appear to appreciate closed doors, and she didn’t let this one stop her. “You an orphan?”
He shut the windows as well. “Unless it’s relevant to my duties as a Wolf, I don’t see any point in discussing it.”
Her brows folded inward. “You understand what we do here, right?”
He nodded.
“Don’t give yourself airs. We’re assassins. We go where the Emperor tells us to go, and we kill who the Emperor tells us to kill.”