“And what do you have to tell us, Lord Thorne?” Estela asks.
An awkward silence follows. No half-elf would ever receive such a title. Perhaps that’s why his perfectly straight back straightens a bit more, and he preens under her respect.
Interesting.
“Mrath had every intention of killing you all the night that you came to the enclave. She’s still not totally convinced that she shouldn’t, and I doubt she will be convinced until the greater artifact is returned to its rightful owner. She has sent me as insurance that you don’t forget about your deal—and she wants the Faefurt assassins to stay with me until the mission is completed,” Thorne reports.
I nod at the very open, presumably honest information he shares. But I can’t say I am pleased to have a man who is looking to kill us in my caves, even if he seems friendly toward Estela. “And what do you know of Arion’s alliance with the giants? If my time in your enclave taught me anything, it’s that you all are swimming in subterfuge and espionage,” I say.
“We’ve heard rumors. He wants access to the humans, not just this…Arletyou spoke of. It seems that humans are indeed able to be mated to elves. Before you congratulate yourself for giving him that idea, know that he has been experimenting for some time. Some strays showed up in his city—though, I suppose that could be counted as your fault.” Thorne smiles.
My tail flicks out irritatedly as he uncovers the first lie I was told by Mrath. The slaves we freed did indeed make it to Shvathemar.
“I had no other options. If we hadn’t sent Lothar to speak with him, we wouldn’t have known your group existed. Give us time to right our mistake,” I say.
Thorne purses his lips, and Lothar nods approvingly.
“I believe we already are being generous with our forgiveness,” Thorne says.
“Onto the subject of the humans,” Fira interrupts, after quietly observing. “How many are there?”
Estela doesn’t hesitate. “Thirty-three.”
The lady of weaving, Fira, nods approvingly. “Well done. I hope they are grateful.”
Estela has a strange look on her face. “They don’t owe me anything. Freedom is their right, not a gift.”
Liana smiles. “Spoken like a true queen. Are they all staying in the under mountain?”
Estela considers the question, and I absentmindedly stroke her hair.
“I believe about twenty-six want to stay. Three want to riskthe winter wilds after they finish healing, and Ayla promised a few more that they could go with her to become assassins.” Estela speaks with pride. “Ulla and I took care of most of their infections, cuts, and bruises, but four are with child.”
Fira nods. “Arlet had a feeling that you might return with some friends. We are prepared with cloth.”
Estela’s smile is mixed with something that conveys just how touched she is.
“In the morning, we will offer the twenty-six a chance to perform thedual’moraan,” Liana says with finality. “I will prepare the hammers.”
The First Cut is the rite of passage all Enduares take to receive their Fuegorra. It symbolizes their time before and after receiving the light of their gods. At that point, each person will choose their path in the court.
“Excellent plan,” I say. “Is there anything more that should be discussed?” I meet each eye, from Ra'Salore to Lothar. They all shake their heads, and I nod wearily.
“Then our meeting is finished.”
Everyone bows.
Ra'Salore begins to head out first. “I will check on the humans.”
Thorne saunters over behind him.
“I’d love to join. Ulla, will you come too? Perhaps we could continue our conversation from earlier?” he practically purrs.
She frowns. “Later. I have a few things to discuss with the queen.”
He exits, though I could’ve sworn that his smile is just a touch dimmer.
Soon, Ulla, Estela, Vann, and I are the only ones left in the room. I look at my blood brother and best friend, still standing paces away from Ulla.
