They were a family.
It was no wonder Sylar ran and why Elon was ready to slaughter him. The union between a red elf and a green elf was forbidden in the Vale of the Elves.
Rawn sighed, offering Sylar a faint, confused smile. “By chance, Sy. I never expected to see you again. I thought … I thought you were dead.”
Sylar lowered his gaze.
“God of Urn as my witness, I give you my oath that I mean you nor your family any harm.”
There was a pause as Elon and Sylar exchanged a look. The violent energy in the air slowly faded. Sylar took a breath and closed his eyes. An elf’s word was his bond. They both knew that.
“Then what is your business here?” Elon demanded.
Dyna’s smirk grew as she crossed her arms. “I’m here to kill Tarn.”
They couldn’t beout in the open. A group gathered would draw the eye, and when Lucenna mentioned seeing Red Highland soldiers arrive at the station, Elon wanted to leave immediately. Rawn knew it was best to hide too, but he had questions that only Sylar could answer.
His old friend reluctantly brought them to their home in a more secluded rural area on the edge of the city. It was a hovel, really. A place to lie low.
Rawn sat with Sylar at their small table. Elon stood beside his mate like a sentinel. Both held onto the boys, sleeping in their arms. Zev, Lucenna, and Klyde had gone out to stake the area in case they were followed. Dyna stayed with him. She leaned against the wall beside the door with her arms crossed, looking out the window. It was too dark to see anything except what the moonlight allowed.
The long silence was awkward, neither of them knowing where to start. Rawn let his eyes wander around the small hut. He could cross it in ten strides. There wasn’t much but a sturdy bed of straw in the corner, a wardrobe for clothing, a threadbare couch by the hearth, and the kitchen where they sat now.
The small kettle bubbling over the fire broke the quiet with a low whistle of steam. Sylar poured them both a cup of tea, and the scent of nettle and honey warmed the chilly air.
“Thank you.” Rawn accepted the cup as they met each other’s gazes across the table. “It’s good to see you.”
Sylar’s expression softened, though it was shadowed by remorse. “It is good to see you as well. How … how is my father?”
“I have not seen Eldred in some time, but I believe he is well.” Rawn hoped he was.
Sylar nodded, and they fell into another lapse of silence.
“What happened?” he finally asked. “Why didn’t you come back?”
“How could I? I gave you my word that I would return with your sister, and I couldn’t keep it.” Sylar looked down at his son, and his eyes welled. “By the time I arrived, it was too late. They had already … what they did to Nisa…” His misted eyes met his. “I heard your screams when you found her, Rawn. I felt your pain as they dragged me away. Even if I had not been caught, I didn’t have the courage to face you.”
Rawn shut his eyes with the horrid memories of the day he found her.
The rage he felt, the sorrow. It was like something had taken over him. He had hunted down any remaining red elves that he could find and … slaughtered them all.
A tear rolled down Sy’s cheek. “If we ever met again, I was sure you would…”
“Kill you for it?” Rawn guessed. He had been so lost after his sister died, drunk on the bloodshed, perhaps he might have. His gaze sweptover the sleeping boys Sylar held, then to Elon standing guard over them. “It was more than guilt that kept you away.”
Sylar’s throat bobbed. Elon laid a hand on his shoulder. Both a silent claim and a warning. His hard amber eyes held his.
Eyes—Rawn finally realized—he had seen before. “I understand now where you have heard of me. You and I, we have met before, haven’t we, Elon? The day outside of Willow’s Grove was not the first time we crossed swords.”
“What?” Dyna straightened. “You have met him before.”
“He is a Force Sentry,” Rawn said. “Elite Red Highland soldiers specially trained to conduct secretive operations for the crown.” He clenched the cup of tea in his hand, feeling it burn against his palm. “You were there in Erendor, when your prince came for my princess.”
Elon remained silent and completely still. But if Rawn knew anything, the elf had already calculated all the ways to kill him if he made any move he deemed threatening.
“He no longer serves King Altham,” Sylar said quickly. “He took no part in your sister’s torture … only mine.” That broke the stark tension in the small room. Emotion at last crossed Elon’s face as he looked down at Sy. It was hardly visible. They spoke no words, but Sylar’s eyes saddened at whatever was communicated between them. “I was held in the dungeons beneath the Blood Keep for weeks.”
Rawn’s stomach pitched. He had heard stories of the torture captured elves endured there. All prayed for a quick death, and most didn’t find it.
