“You have lived in fear of Band’orán all my life.”
She frowned. “You make it sound frivolous, cowardly. But there was nothing cowardly about what I did. It broke my heart every time you asked me where your mother was, who your father was. Every time you pleaded, I …”
She turned away, and Fel’annár watched her. He still didn’t understand. If it wasn’t cowardice, then what was it? “Did you think I couldn’t keep that secret? That I wouldn’t understand?”
“Yes. That is what I thought. You always wanted to know about your family, Fel’annár. It was your one wish, to know about your mother, about your father. I knew that, had I told you of them, you would have insisted on meeting them, and I couldn’t allow that. You may think me overly careful, but Band’orán has many eyes in the forest, always has. He found Lássira. He would have found you.”
“Even in Abiren’á? Or in Ea Nanú amongst the Giants? Would he have found me there?”
“That is what I thought. What I still think.”
Fel’annár turned away from her. He breathed deeply and looked up into the boughs. “Am I a total stranger to them?”
“No. I managed to keep them away with the promise that I would speak to you of them when the time was right, and that I would keep them informed of your life. Our relationship suffered for it. My mother didn’t agree with my silence, thought it unnecessary. She said the Ari of Abiren’á would protect you. I disagreed.”
“And Bulan?”
“My brother is a warrior, was a captain who refused Pan’assár’s call to duty. He serves in Abiren’á as a weapons master.”
Fel’annár nodded slowly. “Master of what?”
Amareth smiled, turned back to the forest. “You and your weapons. I saw your bands, Fel’annár. Swords and the bow. And I see a Heliaré … messy, though.”
Fel’annár’s lips twitched, but he held her gaze, wanted to know about Bulan.
“He is a Spears Master, not that he has many pupils now. It is a dying skill.”
“Spears!” He turned away from her, mind reeling at the possibilities. “It runs in both sides of my family then,” he murmured.
“So many things. My father’s line is graced with many Ari’atór, while my mother’s line is of the House of the White Oak. You are a great warrior, just like Zéndar and Bulan. Your eyes are your mother’s, but your face …” She huffed, shook her head. “It kindles love, garners hatred. It inspires loyalty.” She smiled, but in her eyes was a plea. “Band’orán would have found you, and then he would have killed you, just as he did Lássira.”
Fel’annár heard the words, let them settle. “How do you know that?”
She tried to comfort him with a look before she spoke the words, words she knew would unsettle him. “What do you know of Or’Talán? How much do you know of what happened?”
“Until recently, I thought him a monster. I thought he had forbidden my mother and father to wed, that he had broken their hearts because he was more concerned with the Alpine Purists than he was with his own son. But then, we found something. I am not sure of the details, but it seems that Or’Talán met Lássira at some point.” He watched Amareth, searched for the signs that it was indeed so. He found them.
“He did. They met many times. He told her that Band’orán had threatened to kill her if she continued to see Thargodén. He told her that his prohibition was nothing more than a lie to a madman. He told her that he could not tell Thargodén this because Band’orán would realise. He knew it would cost his relationship with his son for a short time, but his life was more important. And then he told her to wait, to have faith. That he would fix it.”
“But he was called to war.”
“Yes.
“Dear Gods. I don’t understand why he didn’t tell his son the truth. He believes that his father betrayed him.”
“He does. But until Band’orán is gone, he cannot know.”
“He would kill him.”
“Yes. Yes, he would, whatever the consequences, perhaps even his own execution.”
“I spent so many nights damning my grandfather. Hating my own face because it was his. I hated it every time I was called Aren Or’Talán in Tar’eastór.”
“He was a good king, Fel’annár. A good father and a great friend to Lássira. I hope that one day you will be proud to bear that name.”
Fel’annár said nothing. Whatever he had thought to discover from Amareth, it was not this. His gaze drifted upwards, to the slowly lightening sky. “And now, his son is sitting in some prison, captive of that madman who killed my mother.”
“You must bear this knowledge carefully, Fel’annár. This story, your story, will soon play out. No more secrets, no more hiding. Perhaps it is your purpose—to save the king, save our forest from war.”
Was that all he was to her? A child she had promised to protect? An elf with a purpose, a duty to others?
“My purpose …” He turned to her, looked at her. “Did you ever love me, Amareth? As a mother does a son? Or was it all for duty?”
Her eyes filled, but the tears would not come. He saw the hurt, and he saw resolve. He saw her steely defences and the spark of doubt in her eyes. But there was love there, too.
“When Lássira died, and I held you in my arms as your mother for the first time, I knew there was something special about you. Something I could not grasp. Just yesterday, a powerful Ari’atór revealed to me just what it was that I had always sensed, something just beyond my grasp. You see, I felt something, something I could never explain. Erthoron said it was because I was the daughter of an Ari’atór, the daughter of a Ber’ator … that it made me more sensitive to the ways of Aria.”
“What … did Narosén say?” asked Fel’annár, head turned to her, watching.
“He says you are Ber’anor.”
A breeze rustled the leaves, a sigh of relief.
“Do you believe that?”
“It makes sense, yes. You once told me you dreamt of a lady in the trees. You asked me if she was your mother. I knew that she wasn’t because you said her eyes were blue. That was your Dream of Revelation, Fel’annár.”
“Dream of Revelation?”
“For Zéndar, she was always upon the riverbank, hands raking through the sand. When he was old enough to travel to Araria for training, he met Hobin.”
“His Ber’anor.”
She startled. “Yes.” She turned away, pursed her lips. “Tensári is your Ber’ator?”
“Yes.”
“Does anyone know about this?”
“The Company, Gor’sadén, my Connate.”
“Llyniel?” She chanced a smile, latched onto the brief twitch of his lips.
“But no one else, Amareth. That is for me to reveal, if I ever do. I must be seen to be doing this for the forest, not for Aria. They need to trust me, not fear or revere me.”