I hope Raef and Daegan don’t find it foolish.
“Gaethri, your people are weapons masters…”
“Aye,” he grunts, his very thick blonde eyebrows furrowed.
“What do you know about… ancient swords?”
I feel Raef’s gaze on me, but I don’t look at him. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Daegan looking at Gaethri with interest, so maybe he’s not hating my idea.
“What kind?” he answers gruffly, though his sagacious gaze tells me not to underestimate him.
“I don’t know… do you know of any that have survived a long time, have a lot of history, that sort of thing?”
“You’d have to be even more specific, dear. I know plenty like that. Especially if they’re Dothronite-made. Those’ll stand the test of time.”
“Okay…” I trail off, trying to choose my words carefully. Rhydra has been eyeing me with curiosity, but if they don’t know a thing about how the curse was cast or how to reverse it, they couldn’t possibly know why I’m really asking about this. “What about…” I glance at Daegan, who’s listening intently. He gives me a small nod of encouragement. “Dragon made?”
Gaethri takes a moment, assessing me in silence. Thinking. “There’s legend in my homeland of a dragon made sword… that allegedly slayed one of its own.”
My heart skips a beat and my jaw drops just slightly. Nothing too dramatic, thankfully. But inside my pulse is racing.
“And?” I press.
“None alive have seen it, but there are tales that speak of a dragon-made sword hiding within our mountains that go back…. at least a thousand years. We don’t touch it. It’s cursed. Legends say there’s darkness surrounding it, and anyone who attempts to reach it will perish.”
My mouth hangs fully open.
Could that be it?
I risk a glance at Daegan, who returns it with a look of fierce determination that he’s barely masking.
“It’s in Dothron?” Daegan asks. I know him enough now to know that he’s stifling the very eager beast that’s sitting beneath the surface.
“Aye. Just outside of it,” he nods. “But as I said, no one touches it. Don’t even go near it. It’s a cursed thing.”
The room falls silent. I don’t know about the rest of them, but my mind is spinning with this information.
Meela is next to speak, not realizing how vital that bit of information that was just dropped on us is. “So, Gaethri. What brings you here? Do you have any family back home?”
His face falls, and I know. The sadness in his eyes is the mark of a man that holds deep sorrow.
“Used to,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry. What happened to them?” she asks softly.
His eyes shift to me, and I don’t do him the disrespect of looking away. I know, somehow, my people are responsible. My stomach sours, but I offer him a sympathetic nod. It means nothing to him I’m sure, but I won’t pretend to be oblivious either.
“It’s a long story,” he grumbles, closing off the topic.
Meela makes eye contact with me from across the table and I’m not sure what’s in her expression. “Well, if I’m to host the most epic gathering tonight,I better start on preparations.” She stands, ready to leave, then stops and looks back. “You’re all invited. Even you, Raef.”
“Smart elf,” he says with a smirk. “It would be a total bore without me.”
She rolls her eyes and leaves without another word.
“I think I’m going to leave also, if that’s okay?” I glance at Rhydra and Gaethri.
“You’re the princess, you don’t have to ask for permission. We leave when you say,” she says, and I’m not sure what to make of her tone.
