5
Isigh. “I know what I am: tired. I lost dear friends today and I want to bury them. I’m not interested in games.”
He leans forward to whisper, “Then I’m sorry we will need to play one.” He leans back, speaking more loudly this time so everyone can hear. “You will notice that the other gargoyles avoid my attention.”
I glance at the Priestess. She’s unusually quiet and offers me no guidance about what I should say next. Instead, she glues her gaze to the floor like everyone else in this room except Baelen and me.
I nod. “It hasn’t escaped me.”
“Yet you yourself hide nothing.” His statement isn’t a question, but it sounds like one.
“I have nothing to hide.”
His response is quick. Accusing. “You know a secret, Marbella Mercy.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Probably. In fact, it’s likely that I know several.”
He is much more skilled than his granddaughter at hiding the invasion into my mind. I sense it like a gentle breeze, so quiet, so soft that I hardly notice it at all. But Idonotice it.
I decide not to push back.
He gives me a slow nod, indicating his quiet gratitude. He says, “You could destroy my mind in a heartbeat. Yet you choose to allow me inside your thoughts. Why?”
“Because anyone who is brave enough to look into my emotions is stronger than he looks.”
A smile breaks across Senturi’s features, transforming him so that he looks much younger. I frown at his face, his eyes, the perceptive way he assesses me. I’ve seen that look before. Why does it seem so familiar to me?
As if he doesn’t want to give me long enough to figure it out, Senturi abruptly adjusts his focus. “Priestess,” he says to her. “Would you be so kind as to call Lightsworn Lance and the other clan leaders closer. Please reassure them that I will not cast my Sight upon them. They have my word about that. All I want is what Erador needs: knowledge and peace.”
The Priestess unsticks her gaze from the floor. “I know you are true to your word, Outlier Senturi. I will bring them over.”
As the Priestess gathers the clan leaders, Senturi’s jaw ticks. “She’s right about that. I always do what I promise. And I promise you, Marbella Mercy, I already know what you are. But the trick will be convincing the clan leaders. I’m sorry this is a game you can’t avoid playing.”
Well, if he already knows the answers, then I wish he would just tell me, but it looks like nothing will be simple tonight.
Lightsworn Lance, who is the patriarch of Liliana’s clan, hobbles over to me, mumbling, “I should be too old to be frightened of Sighted Ones.” He appears to have aged even more since the last time I saw him; his skin is fragile and semi-transparent. He stops at a safe distance from me and looks me over. The other clan leaders soon join him. I recognize only some of them: the leader of the Virtuous Clan is dressed in regal robes while the leaders of the Denrock and Sunflight clans wear earthy clothing. All of them appear worse for wear after the battle today.
I return their gazes. The stones spin around me in the silence.
Senturi addresses them in a casual manner. “When you look at Lady Storm, what do you see?”
With a perplexed air, Lance says, “My eyes show me two things that can’t co-exist: An elf controls our ancient Queen’s heart.”
Senturi’s response is sharp and concise. “She is not an elf.”
Even I’m surprised, but maybe I shouldn’t be. The Phoenix once told me that when it looked at me, it didn’t see an elf. It said that I wassomething else.
Lance’s eyebrows draw down into a stubborn frown. “Well, she is certainly not a gargoyle. She knows nothing of our clans, our history…”
Anger rises up inside me. I will never claim to be a gargoyle but to say that I don’t know anything about them is wrong. I cut off whatever response Senturi was about to make. I am not enjoying this game. “I have fought with your people, bled with them, felt their deaths like a blade in my own heart. They are my friends, some of the best and most loyal friends I’ve ever had—and that includes my Storm Command who are like sisters to me. Do not stand there and tell me I am not a gargoyle. Do not tell me who I am.”
All of the leaders blink at my outburst, but I don’t care if I’ve surprised or offended them. My voice lowers to a growl. “Seven years ago, the storm chose me to carry her power.Yourstorm chose me. She was a gargoyle just like you.”
At the corner of my eye, the Priestess raises her hand at me for calm. The heartstones have sped up in response to my emotions and that’s probably not a good thing. I’m not sure what she thinks flapping her hands at me will achieve. I try to rein in my emotions as Senturi appraises me.
I have the sense he approves of my reaction.
He says, “The Storm has everything to do with this. Please, Lady Storm, would you be so kind as to tell everyone what you know about our beloved Storm.”
