“Oh, um…” His response was drowned by the women instantly bickered over who should have the sale. He quietly slipped away.
A flash of yellow flitted past the edge of his vision. Instantly, he thought of Princess Keena, but when Rawn looked, his eyes locked on another standing a few feet away from him.
He recognized the elf’s cornflower eyes and long, acorn brown hair, but his mind was slow to understand. Because it couldn’t be possible. He had not seen this face in over twenty-five years. Two small Elven boys with dark brown curls clung to each of the male’s hands.
“Pardon…” Rawn took a step forward, a part of him waiting for the illusion to vanish. His throat tightened when it didn’t. “Sy?”
The male gasped and spun around, confused at first by the stranger he appeared to be, until his gaze settled on Rawn’s eyes. Recognition flashed through him.
Rawn peeled off the glamor and whispered. “Sylar?”
As if the sound of Rawn’s voice struck him, his old friend flinched back. He snatched up the boys in his arms—and ran.
“Sylar!” Rawn called in confusion. “Wait, Sy!”
He sprinted after him. But trying to maneuver the thick crowd with Fair made it difficult to keep up. Rawn soon lost sight of him. He couldn’t have disappeared that quickly.
Rawn spotted him darting into an alley, and he followed him inside. “Sy?”
Sylar whipped around, and his eyes went wide. “Rawn…” Fear marinated his name. He clutched the boys tightly to his chest. “Whatever my fate, I accept it. But please, do not harm them.”
Rawn’s brow furrowed further at the plea. “I—” He stilled at the cold press of a dagger at his throat.
“It’s unwise to follow another into an alley alone, Lord Norrlen. Many dangerous folk about.” It was a voice he had heard only a handful of times, but Rawn recognized Elon all the same.
He stilled merely out of further utter confusion to find them together. He didn’t understand what was happening or why Sylar was terrified of him.
Rawn held out his hands in surrender. “I am not here to hurt you.”
Sylar’s wide eyes flickered from him to Elon, then to the boys. They couldn’t have been more than four years old. They whimpered, their teary eyes warm brown.
Red Elves.
“Who is he, papa?” one asked Sylar.
Rawn’s mouth parted with a shallow inhale. “They are yours?”
“They are,” Elon said icily in his ear. “So you understand why I cannot let you live.”
The possessiveness behind the claim answered Rawn’s questions all at once, while striking him with new ones.
A containment dome slammed down around Sylar and the boys. They cried out and Elon hissed. Lucenna appeared from the other end of the alley, with Klyde at her side.
From behind Rawn, footsteps idly approached, followed by a feral growl.
“I’m afraid I cannot allow that,” came Dyna’s cool voice, and he felt Elon stiffen. “Step away my Guidelander, Lieutenant. I will not ask twice.”
Elon slowly lifted the blade from Rawn’s neck and moved back. He wore a dark heavy cloak over his armor. His amber eyes fixed on Dyna, surprised to see her as well.
She came up beside Rawn on his right and nodded at Lucenna. The containment dome trapping Sylar disappeared. “I have never seen you as my enemy, Elon. Am I wrong?”
The spy didn’t answer.
Nor did he reach for the sword at his hip, but Rawn felt the tension of his magic gathering in the air as he backed toward Sylar and the boys, keeping them within his sights. Lucenna and Klyde moved to join Dyna’s side. Zev growled steadily on Rawn’s left.
“How did you find me?” Sylar asked shakily. He stepped closer to the Lieutenant. One of the Elvin boys reached for Elon, and he took him in his arms without taking his eyes off them.
As Rawn studied them together, he finally understood.
