After a brief recap of our time in Elowen, I present the shard to Riggs, but his reaction surprises me. I thought for sure his curiosity would overtake him and he'd snatch the glass, rattling on and on about the historical significance. Instead, he stareswide-eyed, his mouth twisting into a grimace. He doesn’t even attempt to touch it.
Nyx and I exchange a bewildered look. Good. It's not just me who finds Riggs' behavior odd.
"Professor – "
"Do you know what that is?" His interruption throws me.
"It’s a shard of the portal to Orabelle," I confirm. "My kin, we went to the Northern Crest to find evidence of the portal and this is what we found."
"You went to the Northern Crest?" He looks up at me over his glasses, wide-eyed.
That's what garners his interest. Not the literal piece of glass in my palm that could possibly be used to reforge the portal.
"Ye-es," I nod, side-eyeing Nyx. "My mother remembered where the portal used to be and – "
"Why search for the portal?" He once again interrupts me, and my nerves are starting to burn in aggravation.
"Can the portal be reforged?" I blurt my question before he can redirect the conversation.
Riggs takes a long moment to wipe his glasses clean, clearly digesting my line of thought. "In theory," he draws out his words, "I suppose you could reconstruct the portal if you had all the pieces. But…"
"My father shattered the portal to Malvolio from this side of the realm. The pieces are on the mortal side. So that’s why Bastian is able to rebuild their portal. But my father broke the portal to Orabelle on the Celestial side, so all that’s left is this piece. We’re lucky this even remains."
His eyes are heavy. "Bastian will need your blood to truly reforge the portal."
"I’m aware," I huff flippantly. "Inyour opinion, is there a way we can rebuild a new portal to Orabelle with this as the base?"
"The only people who could possibly come close would be the crafters in Durne. The Dwarves forged the original portals, granted they did so by happenstance," a dark chuckle escapes his lips before a sorrow overtakes him. "They were attempting to make transports to different kingdoms. They didn’t anticipate opening doorways to new realms entirely."
My brow furrows. "Why have they not attempted to rebuild them?"
"Why would they have need to? Enver Sol destroyed them, sealed them to protect our realm. Up until recently, the threat of Drogon actually being released was non-existent. I’m not sure they’d know how to craft a portal. They were built one thousand years ago and destroyed."
"But you are saying there’s a possibility the Dwarves could take this shard," I lift it between my index finger and thumb for emphasis, "and try to reconstruct it. With my blood to open it, we could open the gateway to Orabelle again?"
"In theory it’s possible, but that doesn’t mean it’s plausible," he resituates the blanket over his legs. "And then there’s the issue with convincing the Dwarves to go along with your plan. They’ve sworn off any portal construction, fearing what they might unwittingly unleash. All their research to my knowledge was also destroyed after the Great War."
Despair threatens to tear my heart in two. My mother's face flashes in my mind, and there's no way in hell I'm giving up this easily. "Professor, I need your help."
I see a reluctance flood his face, but suddenly, as quickly as it appeared, it disappears. He smiles, though it isn't the full, lively one I'm used to. "Ask away."
Nyx nods in encouragement when I glance up at him. I inhale and then blurt, "The Dwarven delegation will be arriving for Prince Ronan’s nuptials in a few weeks. Would you be willing to help me convince them to try? If there’s a chance at defeatingDrogon, should he be unleashed, we’ll need my father and the Celestials."
Riggs chokes on a bewildered laugh. "Princess, I’m flattered you hold my sway in such high regard, but I’m afraid the Dwarves won’t listen to someone like me. I’m just a professor."
I grab his hand. "You are a scholar, and the most intelligent man I've ever known. If they'll listen to anyone, it'd be you."
"Again, you’re being very generous -"
"Please," it comes out a broken plea. "I won’t be able to convince them on my own. I have enough weight on my shoulders to prove to the other kingdoms I am who I say I am when I don’t quite yet believe it myself. In a matter of weeks, we will ask them to join us in preparing for battle when war is all but a whisper and rumor. I cannot do this alone. I need help." I scooch my chair closer to him. "I need your help, Professor."
A softness warms his face. "My dear girl, you are not alone," he pats my hand still clutched in his. "Never will be."
"So you will help me?" Hope swells in my chest.
He sighs, fully giving in to my request. "I will help you as best as I can. I will need some time to scour Calmara and my own records of how the portal was formed to formulate a compelling argument. Dwarves are quite stubborn you know." His eyes finally brighten for the first time today.
I smile. "I haven’t the pleasure of meeting many Dwarves I’m afraid. I’ve only been in contact with one and that’s the Master of Literature at Calmara. Perhaps, Penelope can help us as well?"
