A pair of familiar eyes met hers, and Cora realized there wasn’t onlyoneperson this figure could be.
She extended her senses beyond the thin walls of her temporary shields. The energy that pulsed back was as familiar as those dark irises. Her body was unrecognizable aside from the shape of her eyes, the kind expression in them. Gone were the crow’s feet that once lined them, the wrinkles that had dug deep furrows in the woman’s face. Gone was her hunched posture, her aged frame.
Salinda seemed to realize the same thing. She took a step toward the woman. Her voice was strangled as she uttered the name. “Nalia?”
It shouldn’t have been possible. Nalia was supposed to be dying. She was supposed to be the oldest woman in the tribe, not the tall and youthful beauty who strode toward them now, drawing the eyes of the frightened and confused spectators. But this woman bore the High Elder’s energy. Despite outward appearances, this was her.
The woman stopped before Cora and Salinda. She gave the latter a sad smile, which revealed the ghost of the wrinkles that used to frame her eyes. “Yes,” Nalia said. “It’s me.”
But that wasn’t her only moniker. It struck Cora that the answer had been here all along. Hidden in the High Elder’s name itself. She spoke it out loud, reversing the letters, and marked this woman as the one she’d needed to find.
“Ailan.”
The woman with two names released a heavy sigh and met Cora’s eyes. “Yes. I am she.”
27
Whispers broke out from those nearby.
“Who is she?”
“Did she say she’s Nalia?”
“Did she just speak to the dragons?”
“Is that…Cora?”
“Who is the stranger beside her?”
Cora’s skin prickled as several sets of eyes fixed on her and Mareleau. Mareleau edged closer and Noah let out a small cry, drawing more eyes their way.
Ailan—or Nalia, or whatever the hell Cora was supposed to call her—whirled toward them. Voice low, she said, “Go to my wagon. I know the two of you have questions.”
“They aren’t the only ones with questions,” Salinda said, marching up beside Ailan. “You owe us all an explanation. The elders especially.”
“I know. And I will give them one. First, let us get our guests some privacy while we set everyone at ease.”
“We?” Salinda pulled her head back. Their argument was drawing even more nearby spectators. “You want me to help you put everyone’s minds at ease? I don’t even know if theyshouldbe at ease. I don’t know who you are?—”
“You know me.” Her words were firm yet kind and sounded so much like the High Elder. “Please, take my side for now. Once I’ve spoken with our guests, then with the elders, you can make your own decision.”
Salinda’s jaw shifted side to side. “Fine.”
Ailan gave her a tight smile, then faced Cora and Mareleau again. “Go to my wagon. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Cora was happy enough to oblige. With her mind still reeling, she could use a few quiet moments to collect her thoughts. Cora led Mareleau to the center of camp toward the High Elder’s wagon. In the winter months, Nalia spent her nights in an enclosed living wagon as opposed to a tent like most of the others. Cora kept her head down, and Mareleau shuffled close at her side, but most of the commune was too distracted to pay them much heed, especially under the blanket of night.
Soon they reached the wagon and climbed up the short steps to the ornate door, painted in a green, yellow, and red floral motif. The inside glowed with lantern light, illuminating the rounded ceiling, the brightly painted walls, the ornate blankets, the cramped furniture. The tiny space somehow managed to host a bed built atop a cabinet, a small nightstand, two long benches, and even a stove and countertop. More of Bernice’s herbs clouded the air, so it must be true that the witch had been tending to the High Elder. But why? The woman hadn’t been dying like everyone thought.
Cora and Mareleau sat on one of the cushioned benches. Noah hadn’t stopped fussing since he’d let out his attention-drawing cry, so Mareleau set about undoing the top of her nursing gown to feed him. Cora nestled into the corner of the bench and drew her knees to her chest. That was when she realized she was still clutching the collar. Thanks to whatever Ailan had said to the dragons, she no longer needed to use it on Mareleau. For now, at least. She stuffed it back in her pocket.
“Well, this certainly could have gone better,” Mareleau said. Her dry tone gave Cora some sense of normalcy to cling to. “You truly had no idea?”
“That our High Elder, who we all assumed was a Faeryn descendent, was living a double life as a legendary Elvyn royal? Not a clue.”
Mareleau huffed a cold laugh. “I can’t tell if the whole name reversal is utter brilliance or the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Cora heartily agreed.
