The Sky that Nobody Sees

Where They Fall

Thranduil was out the next night at an awards ceremony for which several of his artists had been nominated. Months ago he had invited Inladris to accompany him, but as she typically did now that the events were televised, she had turned him down. Arwen, on the other hand, was thrilled to be invited.

Before he left, Thranduil's gaze fell upon where Inladris lay collapsed across the couch, and he raised an eyebrow. "What were you and Elrohir up to today?"

Inladris groaned. "Elrohir made me go to the shooting range again, then we came back here for lunch, and he brought by a yoga instructor and made me do yoga."

Thranduil wrapped his dark, pine-colored scarf. "For what reason?"

"He says there's no reason for me to still be moving so stiffly and that it's not good for my injury or the rest of my body to not be using it the way it's meant to be used and that more than being unhealthy it's also unsafe because what if I'm attacked again but I'm still stiff as a turnip and I don't dodge well enough or something." She heaved a sigh.

"And I take it," he replied, tucking in the ends of his scarf. "That you do not feel any more limber?"

"The yoga person says that's normal." She rolled over so she lay face-down.

"I would order you a massage, but as I understand it the aftereffects are much the same."

"Then why do people do these things?" she complained.

"Because people are all peculiar in their own unique ways." He leaned over the couch to kiss the back of her head. "Don't stay up waiting for us."

"Fully grown adult, Thranduil."

"Yes and one who sometimes makes questionable decisions."

"Make good choices while you're out."

"If that's your stipulation for my evening adventures then what's the point of even going?"

The door closed and locked behind him, and Inladris dragged her phone out from underneath the couch cushion. "Elrohir, tell me what you and Thranduil were talking about."

He sighed. "We've no ideas for how to draw Miss Dziedzik out. It's likely she'd recognize all of us on sight—Aragorn as well, and probably Miss Polzin, since she'd likely have heard us using both their names from the bug in your purse—so approaching her would be difficult without involving others, which we're not willing to do. We could shoot her from a distance and kill her, but we'd rather not kill someone who may be acting only under duress. If we wounded her from a distance she might make it to the hospital where Elrond could keep an eye on her. But if she has enough authority to be commanding others in this orchestration, it's entirely likely she's also being watched by those above her, and will be put down if they believe she's about to be captured."

"We can't just call her or send a letter?"

"Her phone may be monitored. Aragorn suggested the letter, but.... There's no way to effectively gauge her veracity without meeting her in person."

"So the only way to make contact with her is to get her to come to us."

"So it would seem, yes." His voice was somber....disconnected.

Inladris breathed. "If her target's been hiding for the last month, do you believe she would risk coming to a place where all of us were present?"

"It's possible. But consider as well that it must appear genuine. You're naturally someone who avoids attention. If you suddenly start dancing across the cathedral roofs she'll know we're waiting for her to come dance with you. If you go out with only us, she's unlikely to come close, preferring a distance attack."