"We have no choice but to let him go," Saphir said with infuriating calm. "But that doesn't mean the prophecy was wrong."
"How?"
"This chain of events might serve a purpose we haven't yet recognized." Saphir steepled his fingers. "A prophecy is not a blueprint, General. It's a current. It carries things where they need to go, often through convoluted routes that look like detours."
"That's philosophy, Saphir. It's not strategy."
"The two are not as different as military men like to believe."
I sat very still, grateful that this argument between the two most powerful men in Elucia meant neither expected me to contribute. Being caught between a furious general and an unrepentant shaman was like standing between two dragons mid-disagreement. The safest strategy was to remain motionless and hope they forgot I was there.
"I went out on a limb for you, Saphir," Lesten said, and for the first time I heard something beneath the anger. Disappointment. "I trusted your judgment. And now I have toexplain to the president why we harbored a foreign prince under a false identity for months."
"The president was also informed," Saphir said mildly.
Lesten blinked. "Noveron knows?"
"He's known for some time. He agreed with me that the potential benefits outweighed the risks." Saphir spread his hands. "I may be old, General, but I am not reckless. The fact that a formal demand is now forcing our hand doesn't invalidate the decision to let Alar stay as long as we could."
Some of the fury drained from Lesten's expression, replaced by resignation.
"Be that as it may," he said stiffly, "the boy goes home."
I resented being called a boy, but that was the least of my problems right now. My life was unraveling, and I didn't know how to stop it.
"Alar goes home," Saphir agreed. "But I would ask that the terms of his release include the possibility of return after the situation with his father resolves itself one way or another." He cast me a sympathetic glance before returning his gaze to Lesten. "Alar is not the heir, so even if his father dies, there is no reason for him to remain in Catonia beyond the mourning period."
Should I tell them that I suspected my father wasn't dying?
I couldn't do that. These Elucians valued truth above all, and to accuse my mother of lying would put both her and me in a very bad light.
"You'll need to take it up with the diplomats," Lesten said.
"I intend to." Saphir turned to me with that infuriating twinkle. "Your part in this is not over, Alar. It is simply changing venue."
Lesten ignored Saphir and turned back to me, his expression hardening. "Prince Alaranthus. You will be met by Elucian ground forces in Skywatcher's Point and escorted to the port of entry. A platoon of Elurian Federation soldiers will be waitingon the other side with an armored transport vehicle for you. The transfer will take place tomorrow evening. You will leave the Citadel after breakfast."
That was less than eighteen hours away.
"My dragon—" I started. "Will she wait for me? Is the bond going to hold across such a great distance?"
The thought of leaving Veynathei behind was painful. That golden thread connecting us would be stretched to its limit, and I was afraid it was going to snap because it hadn't had time to solidify.
"Frankly, I don't know," Lesten said. "It has never been done before. The bond gets severed with the rider's or dragon's death." He waved his hand. "You are dismissed. Use the remaining time to settle your affairs and say your goodbyes."
"Yes, sir."
I rose, saluted, turned, and walked out of the office on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else. The corridor outside was empty, the tapestries depicting triumphant riders and soaring dragons suddenly feeling like a gallery of everything I was about to lose.
Saphir caught up with me at the stairwell, moving with a speed that belied his age.
"Walk with me," he said.
"I'd rather be alone."
"I know. Walk with me anyway."
We walked in silence for a few moments.
