I blinked at the female who entered. I’d seen with my eyes when Elora stepped through the rift from Baylaur to Eilean Gayl. But I had not seen with my heart.
She was clean, no doubt thanks to the hospitality of Lady Elayne, but a bath could not disguise the fatigue of living through the trauma Gwen had just described. Elora’s dark brown skin was duller than usual, and deep purple bruises beneath her eyes spoke to weeks without enough sleep.
“Elora,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice steady. “I am glad to see you here. Guinevere has told us of your efforts to protect Baylaur. We are in your debt.”
She bowed deeply. “It is nothing more than my duty, Majesties.”
Exhaustion was not the only change the months had wrought. A sort of preternatural stillness had settled over her. A calm and self-assurance that had not existed before, in her mother’s shadow.
“I want to debrief with you in detail. Report to the Great Hall after breakfast tomorrow. Osheen and Gwen, you will join us,” Arran said, clear and concise.
“Of course.” Elora nodded. “But that is not my reason for coming. One of my guards reported something strange to me at the evening meal. I thought it best you hear for yourself.”
She stepped back towards the open doorway, motioning in someone from the corridor beyond.
I nearly stopped breathing at the sight of her. The female who entered wore little more than rags. What had once been a draped gown was in shreds, the edges darkened with black droplets, as if… as if the succubus had torn and clawed at her. As she stepped through the door, her legs became visible, as did the sharp red gouges that marred them.
She was an adolescent, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. I opened my mouth to ask where her parents were—and shut it.
If they weren’t with her now, it was not by choice. Ancestors.
“Y... Your Majesties,” the girl trembled, attempting a bow that sent her stumbling. Lyrena rushed forward, catching her arm to keep her from falling face first onto the flagstones.
“Rise and be welcome,” I said. My heart twisted at the sight of her legs quaking beneath her. “What do you have to tell us?”
“Well, it could be nothing.” She glanced wildly around the room, her eyes lingering on Osheen and Arran. Terrestrials—she’d probably never left the goldstone palace in her entire life, and now she was in a strange land, surrounded by strangely powerful fae, alone.
I caught Cyara’s eye. A tilt of my head, and she understood my meaning, pulling out a chair and helping Lyrena ease the girl into it. Osheen and Arran both stepped back toward the opposite wall, giving her as much space as the room would allow.
“Tell us,” Cyara urged with more gentleness than I ever could.
“It could be nothing,” the girl said again. “But I was with the injured, and the healer had us near the balcony so we could get fresh air.” She paused, taking in a few rapid breaths. “It may have been the herbs she gave me, truly. It could be nothing…”
I sank down to one knee before her. I could think of nothing else to do, other than that I was tall and wide and imposing, even in a dressing gown. I did not know her; not even her name. But I knew about trauma. I understood a child whose entire world was ripped away from them, layer by layer, until nothing but pain remained.
I took her hand.
She still could not bring her gaze to meet mine, instead focusing on where our hands joined on her knee.
“Fires, Your Majesty,” she said. “We saw fires in the mountains.”
Feeling flooded my chest. For a moment, I longed for the sweet oblivion where I’d dwelled after Arthur’s death. Numbness was so much easier than caring.
But I did care. And that feeling that flooded my chest? It was hope.
I turned to look at Elora. “The elemental troops you sent away?”
Elora shook her head. “They know better than to light fires and risk alerting the enemy to their presence. It must be civilians.”
That dastardly hope flared brighter.
“Come,” Cyara said, replacing my hand with hers. “I will take you back to your lodgings and find you something clean to wear.” She led the girl out of the sitting room, closing the door firmly behind them.
My words were a heartbeat behind. “We have to rescue them.”
Arran’s eyes darkened. “We do not know if that is viable.”
“They may have already met up with our troops in the mountains,” Elora reasoned. As she spoke, she produced a map, smoothing it out on the rectangular wooden table. It was worn from the heavy use it had seen since the siege of Baylaur, but I recognized the Effren Valley instantly.
