“Thank you, Jasper.”
I leave him and Baelen outside the cabin and follow the river upstream several hundred paces to the place where the waterfall crashes. Elyria sits on a wooden bench at the side, far enough away from the spray, but close enough that the roar is deafening. Her long lashes blink gently across her deep brown eyes, her hair washes down one side to her hips, and one of her long legs is tucked neatly beneath her bottom. She looks completely relaxed. Even her broken wing flutters in the breeze without tension.
She says, “This is the only place I can hear myself think.”
Despite the roar, I can hear her clearly. I suspect there is some sort of spell cast over this spot, but I can’t be sure whether Elyria herself cast it.
She turns to me as I sit on the chair beside her. She says, “Everywhere else—even the cabin—is full of noisy possibilities. But here, I can make sense of things.”
“Jasper said you’re having visions.”
She gives a short nod. “I know it must seem impossible. Visionaries are elves, not gargoyles. But Jasper helped me see that I am a bit of both now.” She smiles, a gentle lifting of her lips. “Like you.”
“Jasper is taking good care of you?”
Her eyes light up as she talks about him. “He helps me understand what is real and what is not. At first I was sure I was having waking nightmares—that the things I saw were really happening. Now I can tell when I’m having a vision.” She reaches for my hand. “I’m glad you came to see me, Marbella. You have a difficult path ahead of you.”
I gasp at the warmth in her hand. Whenever she touched me before, she felt transparent—there butnotthere. Now, her touch is as normal, as solid and real, as any other gargoyle’s.
I nod. “There’s a war coming.”
Her hand squeezes mine, but her brown eyes demand my attention, suddenly so deeply sad that I nearly drown in them. She says, “You don’t want to kill him, but you must.”
I blink at her, keeping my question careful. “Who?”
“Grayson Glory.”
The day suddenly seems very cold, the waterfall much too loud. She’s talking about killing Grayson, but I won’t do that unless I’m forced to. I speak very carefully. “I will defeat Grayson Glory. I will make him surrender.”
“You have to kill him.”
My question is sharper than I intended. “Why?”
She doesn’t blink. “Because I see only two futures: one in which he succeeds and we all die. The other in which he falls and we all live.”
“But killing him? He is not my real enemy. The Elven Command is my enemy. They are the ones who have plotted and killed for their own ends.”
She inclines her head. “Yes, but Grayson is thetruethreat.”
I can’t deny that what she says is correct. The Elven Command will draw as much power as they can from sorcery for the fight, but it is Grayson who could turn the battle in their favor.
She persists, “You are conflicted because he has been misled. The forces in his life have taken him down a bad path—a path he might not have walked if not for them. You see the possibility of redemption for him. That he will learn the truth and change his mind.”
I remove my hand from hers. “Grayson has been lied to his whole life. If I was him and I believed that the elf who raised me was a good person and someone murdered them, I’d want revenge too…”
She glances upward at my forehead and I can only guess she’s assessing my glowing Virtuous heartstone. “You feel pity for him.”
“Irelateto him. I lived a life caged from everyone too, not being able to touch anyone for fear of killing them. But I was lucky enough to have my Storm Command, my friends, to keep me grounded. He has nothing but those twisted old bastards telling him lies all his life.”
She studies her hands, remaining calm. “You aren’t wrong to feel the way you feel. In fact… you wouldn’t be who you are if you didn’t.” She bites her lip, studies the stunning blue sky and the sparkling waterfall. “Did you ever wonder why I chose you?”
I laugh but it’s wry. “All the time.”
“When you stood on that cliff top… No… Let me go back… When I raged through Erawind after first becoming the storm, I completely lost myself in grief. My brother and mother were murdered before my eyes and I wanted to kill every elf… But when that first Storm Princess, that tiny, fragile little girl ran into the Storm Vault and stood in front of her mother—stood between me and the one she loved—she reminded me ofme. She was willing to give up everything to protect her mother just like I gave up everything to avenge mine. I let her take my power into her body, absorb it, and calm me.”
I hesitate to ask, “And me?”
“You stood between a lightning bolt and Baelen Rath. You gave your life willingly for his. You were worthy of my power. Which is why I know how hard this is to hear right now. I know you don’t want to kill Grayson.”
