She snorted. Leave it to the warmongering elves to turn weapons and uniforms into works of art.
Growing up at the convent with her sisters, Sorcha had been the one who excelled in doing illustrations for the books that the nuns transcribed. Drawing and painting were her specialties, but she had great admiration for all sorts of craftsmanship. Even though it irked her now, she grudgingly had to admit that the elves were truly talented when it came to making beautiful things.
As their horses passed through the front gate, she leaned forward for a closer view of the castle keep. The ground floor was thick and formidable, no doubt for defense purposes, but as her gaze lifted to the higher floors and towers, she spotted exquisitely carved windows and balconies. It was the most beautiful castle she’d ever seen. Whereas Draven Castle had always struck her as stark and prosaic, this place was bright and whimsical.
When they came to a stop, the Woodsman slid neatly off the horse, then stood by while Sorcha dismounted.
“Thank—” She stopped talking to the Woodsman when she spotted Aleksi leaning precariously to the side, about to tumble off the horse. “Aleksi!” She dashed toward him.
Liz and Father Kit caught him and helped him dismount.
“I’ll take him to the healer.” Father Kit wrapped an arm around the dragon shifter and led him toward a stone building next to the stable.
The building’s door flew open and two women hurried toward them—an older elfin woman with silver hair and a younger woman, who looked like Liz with her sandy-blond hair and blue eyes.
The Woodsman motioned to the older woman. “Sorcha, this is Morghen,” he said in Eberoni.
Morghen gave the Woodsman a quick perusal as she approached them. “I’m glad to see you’re all right. You had us all worried when you didn’t arrive with the others.” She stopped in front of them and spoke quietly in Eberoni to Sorcha. “I’m pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”
“Please call me Sorcha.” She extended a hand.
Morghen clasped it in both of hers and gave Sorcha an assessing look. “You have strength about you, an inner fire that burns brightly.”
“Oh?” Sorcha glanced at the Woodsman with surprise. Had he told this woman about her gift of fire?
His mouth curled up. “Morghen can sense things that the normal person cannot.”
“Aye.” With a smile, Morghen squeezed Sorcha’s hand. “You’ll do. You’ll do quite nicely.”
“Do what?” Sorcha asked.
“Now don’t you worry, dear. I’ll take good care of your friend.” Morghen dashed back to the building, where Father Kit was dragging a stumbling Aleksi through the doorway.
For an older woman, she was certainly full of energy, Sorcha thought. “What did she mean that I’ll do?”
The Woodsman shrugged. “Morghen has a way of seeing the future sometimes, but she never explains what she sees.”
“Hal!” The younger woman’s shout drew Sorcha’s attention. “I was so worried about you!”
“I’m fine, Hallie.” Liz gave her a hug. “You know I would never get captured, right?”
She swatted his chest. “That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”
Liz grinned, then turned to Sorcha. “This is my sister, Hallie.”
Sorcha smiled at the young woman. “I figured as much. Ye resemble each other quite a bit.”
She nodded. “That’s because we’re twins.”
“Oh.” Sorcha looked the two of them over. Since Liz was Embraced, then his sister had to be, too. Did she have the same gift that he had, or was hers different?
Sorcha also knew from her eldest sister, Luciana, that not long ago, it had been dangerous to be born a twin in Eberon. Traditionally, the mainland countries had always worshipped the Light, and any worship of the twin moon goddesses had been strictly forbidden and punishable by death. Since it was believed that the twin moons caused the birth of twins, those infants were considered evil.
Being born Embraced was also deemed evil, since it only happened when the twin moons embraced. If a child was born both a twin and Embraced, then he or she was twice as dangerous and quickly condemned to death.
Luckily, now that Luciana and Leo were ruling Eberon, those old practices were no longer allowed. But Liz and his sister, Hallie, looked about eighteen years old. When they were born, the old ways had flourished. Lord Morris had been head priest then, and Sorcha shuddered at the thought of how many innocent children had died because of him.
“It must have been dangerous for you in Eberon,” she told the twins.
Liz nodded. “That’s why Father Kit brought us here.”
Hallie leaned closer and whispered, “Is it true? The injured man is a dragon?” When Sorcha nodded, she pressed a hand to her chest. “That is so amazing. Well, I’d better go. Nice to meet you!” She ran inside and shut the door behind her.
Liz smiled at her proudly. “She’s learning how to be a physician. Morghen says she has talent.”
“That’s wonderful.” Sorcha’s attention was drawn to a conversation the Woodsman was having with Marius next to the horses.
“Hide these weapons in the catacombs with the other ones,” the Woodsman ordered in Elfish.
“Aye, my lord.” Marius called some soldiers over, and they began unloading the weapons.
“Are these for the rebellion?” one of the soldiers whispered and Marius hushed him.
Rebellion? Sorcha narrowed her eyes on the Woodsman. What was he up to? And why had Marius referred to him as a lord?
“There you are!” a woman’s voice called from the keep.
“Bronnie.” The Woodsman strode toward the keep, where an elfin woman and little girl were descending the stairs.
Sorcha’s breath caught. The woman was as beautiful as Gwennore. Tall, slim, and elegant, she rushed toward the Woodsman, but didn’t appear hurried since her every move was so graceful. Her hair was the rich reddish-brown of the Wood Elves, her skin flawless. The little girl was so pretty, Sorcha suspected she was the woman’s daughter.
“That’s Lady Bronwen and her daughter, Helen,” Liz explained.
Sorcha’s mouth fell open when the Woodsman gathered the woman in his arms for a hug. Good goddesses, were they married? Was that why the soldier had called the Woodsman a lord? Her heart plummeted at the thought. No, surely not. Surely, he wouldn’t have touched her lips or whispered in her ear if he was a married man.
Had she imagined the attraction between her and the Woodsman? No, it was real. At least on her part. Her heart sank even more when he picked up the little girl. Without hesitation, the girl flung her arms around the Woodsman’s neck. Was she his daughter? “They—they seem very close.”
“Well, they’re family,” Liz said. “The Woodsman and Lady Bronwen are cousins.”
“They’re not married?”
Liz snorted. “That’s Lady Bronwen’s husband there. Lord Aiden.” He pointed at an elfin man descending the steps from the keep. “Well, I’m starving. See you later.” He dashed off to the kitchen.
Not married. Sorcha pressed a hand to her chest as she exhaled with relief. The Woodsman was not married. But wait . . . if the Woodsman was a cousin to an elfin woman . . .