55
“Are you serious?” Araton shrieked as he hurried across a footbridge over a narrow stream, lit by a dim lantern that made the coppery embroidery on his lead-grey tunic glisten. “Have you completely lost your mind, Sister?”
I lifted my skirt to climb a few steps carved into the ground between two large trees and met him halfway, fixing him in my feral gaze. “I have never been more clear-headed in my entire life.”
Closely followed by my brother, who did nothing but scream at me about how reckless I was, I went back to the main palace buildings, now bathed in a fairy-like glow as evening fell and stars appeared.
Believing our parents were waiting in their private dining room, where we used to gather when there were no sumptuous banquets with our relatives or nobles, I headed directly for the entrance to their wing.
“My children.”
I stopped so brusquely that Araton nearly stumbled clean into me.
The King of the Elves was in the garden to our left, standing beside one of the small braziers, almost as if he needed the warmth of the dancing flames to soothe a sudden chill, despite it being summer.
Once we approached him, he gestured for the guard beneath the small archway and those stationed at the palace entrance to leave. He then turned to Araton. “Was she where you suspected?”
“Yes, Father,” my brother answered tartly.
I was about to speak, but the king raised his hand to stop me. His admonishing gaze made it difficult for me to meet his eyes.
“Keep your voice down, daughter,” he said sternly, “for I do not wish to cause any more trouble for your mother today.” His eyes turned to the large, pointed windows with wrought-iron floral decorations on the first floor, where he had left his mate.
I also didn’t want to cause her more pain, especially after watching her cry while I’d told my story. So, I tried to channel the urge to yell at my father, but I refused to hide the anger bubbling in my gut.
“You made him believe you had arranged accommodations for him,” I hissed. “You made me believe it. Instead, you threw him in prison.”
He didn’t bat an eye. “Yes.”
“He is the King of Men!” I said in indignation.
“A king,” Father snapped sharply, “who did not hesitate to attack us after I refused to let him use Calien’s Crystal.”
“He just wants to heal the infected lands of his kingdom,” I retorted vehemently.
“Yes,” my brother said, in a nipping tone. “And he was willing to shed the blood of Aegel’s citizens just to reach the Crystal.”
“I’m well aware, Araton,” I growled.
He made a nearly nauseated face. “Then how can you defend him?”
“I’m not defending his actions or decisions,” I clarified, then turned my furious gaze to our father. “But I demand that he be treated with respect.”
“You demand?” The king, simultaneously angered and stunned, advanced threateningly toward me. “And who are you to make demands?”
Fire flashed in my eyes. “I’m his—”
I suddenly clammed up, shocked.
It was pointless, as Father immediately guessed what I was about to say, and rage contorted his stern face.
I took a moment to steady myself, then, with resoluteness, I said, “I am your heir. And he’s half elf.” I glared at Araton. “Whether you like it or not.” I looked back at the king. “He’s one of us.”
“No, he’s not,” Araton bit back.
“Yes, he is.” I glowered at him before turning away to step closer to our father with a determined look. “Prove it to him.”
He responded with a single, startled breath, gazing at me as if I had asked him to commit an atrocity.
“He’s hated you all his life because of what you have done to his mother.
He hates all elves.” My voice faltered slightly at the thought that, despite everything, Amlach might hate me as well.
I swallowed hard and pressed on with greater urgency.
“Prove to him that the decision you made was a terrible mistake. Show him the kindness of our race. Show him who we truly are.” I paused meaningfully, staring at him intently.
“Don’t let resentment overpower you again, Father. ”
He stayed absolutely silent, weighing my words with a haughtiness that made me feel uneasy.
My brother burst into a contemptuous half-laughter. “You’re unbelievable, Nauriel . . . Are you really asking our father to let that scoundrel go with a pat on the back? And all because you’ve grown fond of the half-blood?”
“ Shut up, Araton,” I hissed fiercely.
“Because you consider him . . . what?” he continued with increasing disdain. “Some kind of friend?”
“He’s far more than that!” I shouted before I could stop myself.
“How dare you say such a thing!” my brother yelled back, bewildered.
I decided to ignore his presence once more and refocused on the king, more determined than ever. “Father. Get Amlach out of that cell. Meet him and talk.”
“They have talked already!” Araton snapped. “Did that bastard take your memory, as well as your reason?”
“He took nothing,” I snarled.
“He clearly did,” Father said with solemn seriousness.
He watched me so closely that I felt the need to step back. No, I suddenly realized. Not the need to step back.
The need to attack.
“There is something different about you,” the king said slowly. “Something I don’t like. Something that upsets me.”
I hid the fear that whatever was stirring angrily inside me was injecting me, then moved closer to my father to take his hand. “I beg you. Give him another chance. Prove to him we’re not monsters.”
“Our father has nothing to prove!” Araton cried out, beside himself. “Neither to that rat nor to humans.”
I released the king’s hand and, on impulse, turned toward my brother. “So you would really let a feud erupt between our peoples, risking a terrible war?”
“The feud is already raging, Sister.”
I moved toward him in a belligerent manner. “What if the disease affecting the men’s fields also spreads to the Forest of Witches, and they decide to ally with humans to get the Crystal?”
“Witches have their own magic. They certainly don’t need ours,” Araton replied bitterly.
“No power can surpass Calien’s, except for Mornon’s,” I stated in a voice so dark that, for a moment, I did not recognize it.
I did not recognize myself.
Hearing the name of our ancient enemy slip so easily from my lips, my father and Araton froze.
“That’s enough,” the king declared, looking at me with much severity. “You have both voiced your concerns. I will think it over tonight. You will have my decision tomorrow.”
“Father—” my brother and I tried to say at the same time.
“Go,” he ordered peremptorily, turning to the brazier to cut us off from his thoughts.
Without hesitation, Araton stormed angrily toward his wing of the palace.
I cast one last rageful glance at the king’s back, then chased my brother.