“That’s nothing compared to my belly.”
“That’s quite enough, Galdith, Carodel,” interrupted Galadan. “We should find Sontúr and then get to breakfast. Commander Pan’assár will soon call for our return, and there is plenty I would do before we leave this place.”
“The last time we made plans like that, we ended up fighting a battle with an elven Deviant,” pointed out Galdith. “Perhaps we should stay indoors.”
“The Nim’uán is gone. One less threat at least,” said Galadan.
There was a tentative knock on the door. Galdith rose and opened it, coming face to face with a young guard. He smiled, then remembered that he shouldn’t and schooled his face, embarrassed.
“A message, sir. From Prince Handir for The Company.”
Galdith nodded, took the note and waited for the guard to leave.
“We have a message from the prince.”
“Sontúr?” asked Galadan.
“No. Handir.”
“Read it,” said Idernon, turning from the fire.
Galdith opened the note and then looked up to the expectant Company.
“We are summoned to Prince Handir’s quarters immediately.”
Idernon glanced at Galadan and then at the rest. “I told you. Time to return. I wager they are giving us a week.”
Carodel shrugged, and Idernon said nothing, but all of them smoothed down their dishevelled hair while Carodel swayed and grasped the back of a chair. And still, they said nothing as they made their way outdoors in search of Fel’annár.
They had just stepped over the threshold of the palace when they spotted him. For one moment, Idernon almost forgot the prince’s summons. His best friend’s face was glowing and at his side was a smiling Llyniel. His eyes travelled downwards to their intimately clasped hands and then upwards, to the braid each had woven in the other’s hair, at the very front. Two twisted threads wound around each other, and to seal it, the Seven Wheels. Sontúr, one brow raised high on his forehead, was versed enough in forest law to recognise the Bonding Braid. Galdith grinned, while Carodel hooted, and behind the newly wed elves, Ramien beamed like a schoolboy with a honey cake.
Galadan just smiled. Alpine that he was, he had adopted the forest as his home, and he knew as well as the rest what this meant to the Silvan people. There was no law that could separate Fel’annár and Llyniel now. Even if their parents objected and denied them the bonding ceremony, in the eyes of Aria, they were already one.
The guard at Prince Handir’s door granted them entry, and The Company were soon standing in the living area.
The prince stood at the window, his back turned, and beside him stood the two commanders. Gor’sadén turned to Fel’annár, his greeting frozen upon his tongue. His eyes strayed to Llyniel at Fel’annár’s side, watching as she moved away from him and made for the hearth.
Fel’annár crossed gazes with him, allowing his Master’s scrutiny. It was something he and Llyniel would have to endure. That and the questions that would surely come. Where is your ring? The Alpines would ask. Why didn’t you celebrate? The Silvans would ask. They would all just have to wait until there was time for a ceremony. It mattered little to him at that moment, whatever Gor’sadén might think. He had all he wanted: her love and her acceptance, in spite of her doubts. He jumped when Handir spoke.
“Please sit.” Handir turned from the window to face them, and Fel’annár’s heart lurched. Handir was not worried; he was shaken and, for the first time, dishevelled. “Every one of you here is sworn to secrecy, answerable to the crown of Ea Uaré. I want your oaths, all of you. What is discussed in this room will stay in this room.”
Fel’annár frowned and watched as one by one, the commanders, Llyniel and The Company nodded. He, too, bowed at Handir and then watched as the prince stepped forward. Fel’annár could see creases in his tunic, the messy braids, and his heart sank even further. He chanced a glance at Llyniel and saw her confusion.
“I am an early riser, and perhaps by some trick of the light, my eye was drawn to my admittedly cluttered worktable. I found these,” he said, holding up a number of parchments in one hand. “Letters from my father, from Lord Aradan, Captain Turion and Lord Erthoron. It is the correspondence we have been waiting months for.”
Handir’s audience remained utterly silent, watching as the prince stepped further towards them. “There are other missives, unfinished correspondence I believe to be from Lord Sulén. He speaks of a target not yet dealt with. A target who is a Listener. He speaks of a pledge he has given to this unknown lord he writes to, and he speaks of some item, a guarantee, should his deeds be judged insufficient.”
Pan’assár was almost as rigid as Gor’sadén, but Handir had not finished.
“Commander Gor’sadén. Can you arrange an extensive search of Lord Sulén’s residence? In answer to any questions, we must simply say he is suspected of some malpractice, nothing more. It is my hope that more papers such as these may be found, something that may show beyond the certainty of my mind that the receiver of these letters is Lord Band’orán.”
“And what of Sulén himself, Prince?” asked Gor’sadén, eyes blazing.
“He is not here, Commander. I have made some preliminary enquiries. Neither he nor his son, Silor, have been seen for many days. Lord Ras’dan is also missing. They must be aware of the theft, and I wager they are already on their way to Ea Uaré to fulfil this pledge—to Band’orán, we must assume. In any case, Sulén will be frantic, wondering who stole these documents and why. He will be concerned at not having fulfilled his part of the bargain. For not having killed Fel’annár.”
Fel’annár stared at the prince, mind struggling to piece together what he had said, the implications. He needed to ask. “Why is my death so important?”
Handir nodded slowly, walking towards Fel’annár. “During the first Forest Summit, which took place in our absence, the Silvan people brought forward two requests. One was for equal Silvan-Alpine rule on the Royal Council. The other was the reinstatement of the Warlord. They want Fel’annár to be that figure.”
Llyniel and The Company gasped, while Fel’annár stared back at him, eyes cool yet full of questions.
“Those votes are imminent. The Silvans understand that both their requests may well be denied. Lord Aradan says they linger outside the gates, that they refuse to leave until the votes are taken. Lord Band’orán realises that Fel’annár is the unifying factor, a figure who will make the Silvan people strong, give them a power Band’orán does not want them to have. This is why they want him dead. A unified Silvan front is not what Band’orán needs. And so he orders his conspirators to kill him.”
Fel’annár slowly shook his head while Idernon’s hand rose to the pommel of his longsword. Llyniel looked at her lover in concern, his own eyes latching onto hers.
Galadan spoke up. “My prince. Whoever put those missives on your desk may be able to provide us with names. Is there any indication as to who it might have been?”