"How did it get here?" she asks.

Good question. I decide to keep my answer vague.

"Some girl."

"I've never really seen a tree." Enturi announces, moving between Lynae and me to examine it. We watch him run his hand up the rough bark of the trunk, the color variations barely visible in the dim light, and then along the branches to the needles and berries.

"Don't touch those berries," I warn. "They're poisonous."

"Poor tree." Enturi says softly, a needle branch pressed lightly between his two hands. "She's dying."

"Good," I say.

Lynae looks at me like I'm a monster.

"How can you say that?" she asks. "This is a sacred tree. It can't be left to wither. That's just wrong. The girl who brought it here made a mistake. Of course it's dying. There can't be enough light in here. It needs more sunlight."

"She needs more sunlight," Enturi corrects gently.

"The tree should be dug up and replanted outside." Lynae announces.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that."

Lynae gives me that look again. "What is wrong with you, Arq? You sound like you hate this little tree."

"I don't hate it." Well, actually I do. But I am not explaining what happened with Calmorien's little bait girl to her or Enturi. It doesn't make any sense anyway. "Listen, I don't care about the tree. It'll die in here. But if you take it outside, it'll die there too. Chopped up for kindling or switches. Berries picked off for poison. Needled branches picked off for brooms." I feel myself getting angrier again. "Yeah, it's a beautiful tree. But that beauty doesn't mean anything. It's just something to be picked clean and used up like every other damn thing that has the bad luck to land here."

"It is the only tree I've seen in Elftown," Lynae protests. "We can't just leave it here to die. Maybe Nana Milya could keep it safe. I could ask."

"I don't care what you do with it. But some things are better off dead."

"Goddess! Don't you care about anything or anyone beside yourself?" She spits her question out like she took a drink from a pisspot. She's angry now. Her eyes flash in the dimness.

No, I want to yell back. No, I don't give a shit about anyone! But I can't. Because it's just not true. I cared about Nana Romina. And Alvar. I'm just not very good at it. I try to avoid it. Because caring leads to disappointment at best, and can get you killed. So I just stare back at her stonily, until she averts her eyes.

I realize I might be starting to care for these two as well, since I bothered to bring them here instead of just dumping them and making my own way forward after Jet's fall. No, that's not right. I don't even like Enturi. And I remember how Lynae abandoned me in the hallway to the human guards at Calmorien's apartment. Fact is, it's just in my best interest to keep them alive and close. They are the only ones who know I survived the red tide. I'd kinda like to keep it that way. I don't want someone ratting me out to the human guards for a few coppers. And maybe together we have a better chance of surviving the next few days.

"Arq?" Lynae's eyes have shifted away from my face to the wall to my left. Great. Now she's seen the painting. "What's that?"

I sigh. Maybe coming here wasn't such a great idea after all. The spirits of Alvar and his friends seem to permeate the place.

"It's a painting." This information is enough to divert Enturi's interest away from the tree.

"A painting? Where?" he asks. And then he sees it. "Oh."

"Arquë, did you paint this?" the elf-girl asks carefully.

"No. Some other elves did."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter. They're dead." Her eyebrows arch in alarm.

"You killed them," she states.

"No," I say. Suddenly I am tired. "I didn't kill them. I tried to save them. But it was too late. I didn't do what I should have when it would have mattered."

Lynae seems embarrassed by her accusation now. Good. She reaches out and clasps my hand.

"You can't save everyone," she says gently. It's meant kindly, I know. But I am too bitter to accept kindness. My vow of vengeance remains somehow unfulfilled, and it won't permit it. I look away from her kind eyes, into the dirt. I pull away from her hand and speak through gritted teeth.

"I didn't want to save everyone."

She doesn't have anything to say to that. I see her looking at the painting and shaking her head sadly.

"Killed for a painting," she whispers quietly to herself. "What a horrible place."