Erthoron asked questions, which she answered, telling them of the missives Prince Handir meant to use to discredit Band’orán. As they spoke, Llyniel’s eyes wandered to the elf beside Erthoron. A distant memory of a village far north. This was Lorthil, she realised, and so the Ari’atór was Narosén. But the woman in the corner she did not recognise until Miren turned to her and smiled.
“You must be overjoyed at the return of your son, lady.”
Amareth’s smile was sparing. “I am. There hasn’t been much time to talk. Their journey has been a difficult one.”
“Well, yes, judging by the state Llyniel here was in when they arrived. She journeyed with them, you see.”
Amareth nodded slowly, and Llyniel couldn’t find it within herself to be cross with Miren.
“You must have many adventures to tell,” said Amareth, curious eyes resting on Llyniel, on her Bonding Braid.
“I do. Your son is an extraordinary elf, lady.”
Amareth’s smile was wider now, but Llyniel had seen the conflict in her gaze, knew a little of Fel’annár’s upbringing. And the Gods knew she had her own family issues to resolve. The thought of her mother as a coward suddenly seemed absurd to her now as she looked about the tent. The maps and the plans, all hanging on her words. And then she realised that her father must surely know about it. Miren loved Aradan far too much to deceive him like this. How long had they been helping the Silvan people this way?
Miren finished her report, and Amareth extended an invitation for them to stay for the evening meal. Miren accepted, but Llyniel politely declined, much to the surprise of her mother. She just wanted to see Fel’annár, be with The Company again. She had become one of them, had shared so many events with them.
She missed them, even Pan’assár.
Erthoron directed her to the tent beside theirs, and with a humble bow, she left with Miren on her heels.
“Will you not dine with our leaders?”
“I have friends here, Mother.”
“Oh,” she said, following Llyniel to the tent. She watched as her daughter spoke with the guard.
“I want to see The Company.”
The Silvan guard looked down at her. “Who?”
A head appeared through the half-open flap. “Us. The Company. Llyniel!”
“Ramien!”
It felt like a decade since she had last seen the Wall of Stone, and Miren watched keenly as Llyniel disappeared, wrapped in a mountain of muscle. Ramien stepped back, nodded and pulled her in. He spared a calculating glance at Miren as he disappeared inside.
She followed.
And then she faltered, mid-step, mid-thought. There, before her, standing tall, was Or’Talán, returned from battle victorious, not dead. The mighty king held out his arms, drew Llyniel to him and kissed her fiercely, arms entwined, hands roving.
She backed away, out of the tent, and returned to the command tent. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t. Miren was speechless for the first time in her immortal life.
“What is it?” asked Amareth.
“Your son and my daughter …”
“What about them?”
“They … they know each other.”
“Of course they … do.” Understanding hit just before finishing her sentence. Erthoron’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, and Narosén’s mouth was a perfect circle.
Fel’annár slept like a bear in winter. Turning onto his back, he realised he couldn’t feel one arm, having slept with it over his head for so long. He lowered it to his side with the other, waiting for the pins and needles to pass. Sitting up with a groan, he found Tensári staring back at him, cross-legged on the floor.
“Have you slept at all?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen Llyniel?”
“Yes.”
He scowled, frustrated at her monosyllabic responses. “Is that it?”
“Yes.”
He rolled his eyes and got up, stretching and wincing. He pulled on his shirt and tunic, then collected two twisted locks from either side of his crown and tied off the rest in a high tail. They stuck up on either side, making him look more like an Ari than he ever had. Lainon would like that, he grinned to himself as he undid the clip Gor’sadén had gifted him with and fumbled with his Heliaré. He startled when Tensári smiled. It was, perhaps, the second time he had seen the gesture. He shook his head, in case he had imagined it. “I need to speak to Llyniel before we leave.”
Slipping out of the tent, they passed Farón and three others who sat around a fire. They nodded as the two passed, watched as they made for Lady Amareth’s tent where he knew Llyniel and Miren had spent the night.
Inside, Amareth sat cross-legged before the fire, a mug of steaming tea between her hands. She stood and walked over to Fel’annár. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you.”
“Will you walk with me?”
He glanced at Llyniel, who approached. “Can it wait?”
“It is important, Fel’annár.”
He pursed his lips and glanced once more at Llyniel. She nodded, and he turned back to Amareth. “Of course.”
“I will wait for you with The Company,” said Llyniel. Fel’annár smiled at her and then left with Amareth.
They made for the tree line, past the last tents until they were alone. Tensári stood a respectful distance behind. Fel’annár felt the presence of another, too. It was Farón, charged with his security, and he did not mind, so long as he stayed far enough away. He gestured to the base of an oak, and they sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Fel’annár bent his knees, rested his elbows on them while Amareth’s simple brown boots peeked out from under the hem of her dress.
“My father was Ari’atór. Perhaps he still is, across the veil.” Amareth only half turned to Fel’annár, enough to know that he was not shocked as she thought he would be.
“Zéndar is alive, yes.”
She shifted, faced him, eyes wide, brows furrowed.
“I spoke to Commander Hobin. I know what he was, who he served and how he died,” explained Fel’annár.
She pursed her lips, tried to relax her shoulders. “I would have told you, that you have a grandmother and an uncle in Abiren’á.”
“But you didn’t. Not even when I was old enough to understand.”
“No.” She breathed deeply, collected her thoughts. “You were always a warrior. I always knew you were Ari, like your grandfather. But you see, it was clear to me that Aria wished to hide it. It made sense to assume there was a reason for that. I believe that, had I made it known, you would have been forced to travel to Araria with the other Ari children. That is their destiny. But it was never yours, Fel’annár.”
“But you could have told me.”
“I could have, but then you would have accepted that destiny. You would have gone to Araria. Tell me I’m wrong.” Her honey eyes stared hard at him, challenged him to contradict her.
He said nothing.
“My mother, your grandmother, Alei, and her son —your uncle Bulan—had much to say of my decision. It has cost me their regard. But Lássira charged me with your life, Fel’annár, not them. It was my decision to make. I, not they, had seen Band’orán’s malice. I watched as the face of a child slowly changed into the face of a king. It was too dangerous. Band’orán would have found you.”