31 Elowen
31 Elowen
Over breakfast, Elowen wore a huge smile on her face, and frankly, she expected some fanfare because of it. When was the last
time any of them woke up to the sight of her beaming ? But Clare seemed determined to outdo her in terms of cheer. He was unusually chipper, even for him.
For one, he could not stop humming one of the songs that had been written about him, a love ballad called “The Grandest Heart”
that spoke of his yearning to give his heart to someone as grand as him. That would not have been odd alone. Clare always
appreciated the art made about him in a very genuine way.
The odd thing was he would not—no, could not—stop patting people on the back. When Elowen salted her plate of dawnjay eggs?
A pat on the back. Vandra bent over to relace her boots? A hearty pat on the back, and a “Those are great boots” from him.
All Beatrice did was walk into the room, and Clare not only patted Hugh on the back for it, he whistled, as if the very sight
of her was worth celebrating. Elowen had assumed the perfume of love she’d picked up on that morning was her own. Love could
tunnel your vision in such ways, she’d learned. Make you ignorant to your own surroundings. Which may have been why no one
else noticed her cheer. They were in their own respective tunnels.
“Good morn, my beautiful questmates. I bring you fantastic news,” Clare announced once Beatrice had completed their assembly around the breakfast table. “Thanks to Beatrice’s incredible, magnificent, ingenious detective work, we know the resurrection will be held at a revel the Order is throwing at the Night Dragon tonight.”
“And I have figured out how to disable the weapon,” Elowen said, interrupting. Stealing Clare Grandhart’s thunder was not
easy to execute, and it amused her to be the one capable of doing it. She appreciated that while the moment took him by surprise,
she sensed no bitterness or resentment on him.
“How?” he asked, his curiosity overriding the initial shock.
As she explained her idea to absorb the pain inside the Sword of Souls, Clare and Beatrice grew so stunned, they stopped eating.
Vandra did, too, but only to give Elowen her full attention and support. The only oblivious party was Hugh, who did not quite
grasp how notable it was that Elowen was not only commanding the breakfast chatter, she was offering solutions. He savored
his meal, even letting out small sighs of delight as Elowen spoke.
“That’s marvelous,” Clare said when Elowen finished. “I can’t believe none of us thought of this earlier. How did it occur
to you?”
Elowen’s cheeks warmed. “It came to me when my girlfriend and I were watching the latest episode of Desires of the Night .”
It was Vandra’s turn to beam. She tucked her chin into her shoulder and gave a coy little wink like Who, me?
Hugh, once again just a bit tapped out of the whole situation, swallowed his last bite of stoneflour loaf and said, “Forgive
me for not knowing this, but who is your girlfriend?”
The table laughed again, though not with the same verve, for Hugh did not deserve to be anyone’s target. The question itself
was just too innocently amusing.
“Vandra,” Elowen told him. “As of last night.”
“Congratulations.” It was Beatrice who offered this. Elowen gave her a small nod in return. “And not to dampen the mood, but
last night, Clare was jumped by the Order.”
“That does dampen the mood,” Vandra confirmed.
Beatrice gave her a wry glance before continuing. “They want to kill one of the Four with the sword as their final sacrifice
before reviving Todrick. It will be a very dangerous affair to be caught at that banquet.”
“I know,” Elowen said. “Especially since I’m thinking that Vandra can pretend to turn me over to the Order so that I can get
close enough to the sword to drain it.”
Vandra clapped her hands. “I am so good at pretending to be the bad guy. Many have told me my work is convincingly excellent
every time I have done it. Just ask the queen herself!”
“That’s how I met Vandra,” Hugh offered. “She was pretending to threaten me. Turns out it was a test of my honor from Thessia.
After everything she has been through, she can never be too careful.” He laughed it off. “Lucky for me, I passed.”
“You were great,” Vandra said. “Even when I started plucking your eyebrows.” She leaned in closer to him. “They’ve grown in
quite nicely since.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Beatrice was frowning, Elowen noticed. Elowen had been so distracted by displaying her own competence that she nearly missed
the fact that Beatrice was worried about her.
“We can pull it off,” Elowen said. The we she used was intentional. Uniting. They were on the same side for this. “Together.”
“How?” Beatrice asked, her concern growing. “We can’t exactly follow you into a Fraternal Order revel without being instantly
recognized.”
“Worry not!” Clare said. He picked up a large satchel he’d tucked beneath his feet, and he stepped away from the table to open it. “Today is a very special day, for today is the day you tap into the Grandhart within.”
He reached into the satchel and pulled out what appeared to be a costume, tossing it into Beatrice’s lap.
“You and I will join the army of Clares invited to entertain at the revel. They don’t yet know they’ve been hired to work
for the Fraternal Order. We can safely infiltrate the event, and no one will be any the wiser,” Clare said.
“What about me?” Hugh asked. He made no effort to mask his devastation at the exclusion.
“Hugh, my good sir,” Clare said softly. “You are about to be the king. We cannot risk your safety in such a way.”
Hugh straightened up. “I insist you do.” He looked around the table, making pleading eye contact with each person. “You are
the greatest heroes Mythria has ever known, and I have no bigger dream than to assist you in this quest.”
“Ghosts, he’s good,” Vandra said quietly.
Grinning, Clare tossed Hugh a costume. It was very easy to charm Clare Grandhart into agreeing. Hugh ended up with a crumpled
Clare outfit that Elowen recognized instantly from Clare’s guest spot on As the Realm Spins , a different shadow play that she sometimes watched. The ensemble came complete with a small patch of blond ready to be affixed
to Hugh’s chin, and a rather floofy yellow wig to cover his dark curls.
For one stunning moment, there was complete silence. And then in a collective, loud and sudden as a flock of birds fleeing
a tree, the group laughed. No, they roared . Tears spilled from Elowen’s eyes, she laughed so hard. Vandra had to grab her stomach, for she’d developed a stitch. Beatrice started clapping in delight. Even Hugh could not contain himself.
Clare, for his part, remained good-natured as ever. “Whatever do you find so amusing? Is it not a thrill to step into the
expertly waxed boots of our realm’s most renowned mouthpaste sponsor? Have you never wondered what the tunic of a man who
has modeled scandalous undergarments made of faux-grawk skin feels like?”
His comments were kindling to the fire, reigniting the laughter when it threatened to die out. Every single person at the
table was united in their amusement. Somewhere beyond the joy Elowen felt, she ached with longing, like she was so fond of
this moment she already missed it somehow, even though she was living it. It reminded her of all the past joys she’d had to
hoard like precious rations, keeping her amused up in the trees when nothing else did. She let out a deep breath, her laughter
renewing. She wanted to savor this unity as long as possible without letting her mind wander to what it would be like to lose
it.
“Thank you, Clare. I look forward to seeing Hugh help save the realm in a goatee and neck scarf,” Elowen offered.
Everyone’s laughter died, spotlighting the kindness of Elowen’s words, trying to find the catch within them.
“I’m serious,” she said. Beneath the table, Vandra squeezed her thigh, boosting Elowen’s courage. “This is a wonderful idea,
and I am very glad you’ve thought of it.”
In the same way he’d reacted when Elowen told him he’d aged well, Clare clasped his hand to his heart. “That means so much,”
he said.
The table quieted again, considering the plan in full. It was highly dangerous. Yet so was everything else they’d ever done. There were surely reasons it shouldn’t happen, but saying them aloud seemed redundant. Everyone knew it was the best shot they had at defeating the Order for good.
Elowen would become the full hero this time, just like her brother had before her. But she wouldn’t let anyone misrepresent
her as they often did with Galwell. She would write this story on her own terms, and she would live to tell the tale herself.