Page 64 of The Truth

“It’s in the inside pocket,” he said as he ignored Alvira and threw the cloak around her shoulders. “The games will end shortly. I will come with you.”

“I would appreciate that. Is she willing to stand before a tribunal?”

“She is.”

“Good.” Alvira patted her hand against the outside of the cloak, feeling the envelope within. She looked to Tarast, deep into his eyes and wrapped her arms around him. “You will never know what your faith in me means. Thank you, Tarast.”

“My blade is yours, Alvira. And thank you for trusting me with this.”

Alvira pulled away. “Let us find Councillor Kalas.” Resting a hand on Vyldrar’s scales, she said, “Wait for us here. We will not be long.”

The dragon pushed his snout into her chest, shaking the rain from his head. He puffed a warm breath of defiance.

“Watch from the sky then. But do not intervene unless there is no other choice. Tarast and I can handle ourselves.”

Again the dragon pushed his snout into Alvira. The world had always been a dangerous place, but it had grown darker of late, and confronting Thoren Kalas in this way carried greater risk than Vyldrar wished to take. He wanted her to confront Kalas in the open, where his flames could reach.

“We need situation we can control. We’ve spoken of this.” Alvira pushed his snout away. “Go.”

As Alvira and Tarast walked through the rain towards the arena, the pair of the dragons took the sky, the rain swirling in their wingbeats.

Rapturous applause broke out from within the arena’s bounds.

“Not long,” Alvira said, looking up at the enormous statues of past champions that ringed the structure’s exterior.

They moved quickly, inclining their heads to the guards who stood at the main gates, the sight of Vyldrar and Antala enough to mark them as Draleid. The primary thoroughfare was devoid of faces, only a few solitary souls leaving early, some drunk, some in a hurry. They made their way into the outer corridors, then up through the stairwells towards where Alvira knew Thoren Kalas’s viewing box was situated. Another cheer rang out, and the whole structure shook from the sound of stomping feet.

Six Highguard in full plate stood outside the double doors to Thoren’s box, every one of them straightening at the sight of Alvira and Tarast, likely as much at Alvira’s saturated clothes and hair as anything else.

“Archon.” The captain pressed a closed fist to his chest before also inclining his head to Tarast.

“Councillor Kalas is inside?”

“He is Archon, but⁠—”

The man cut off his own sentence as Alvira made to push through the door.

“Archon, Councillor Kalas is not taking an audience right now…” His voice trailed off at Alvira’s stare.

Alvira inclined her head and moved past the Highguard, Tarast at her back.

Councillor Kalas was already standing and preparing to leave when Alvira entered. The look of shock on his face was one she savoured. The two Highguard who stood on either side of him stood to attention.

“Give us and the Councillor a few moments alone, Danila, would you?”

The Highguard on the Councillor’s left gave a short nod. “As you wish, Archon.”

“You are to stay at your post,” Thoren snapped, grabbing Danila’s shoulder.

Danila looked to Alvira, who inclined her head towards the door.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thoren held out his arms as the two Highguard left the box and closed the door behind them.

“You wouldn’t want them to hear what is about to be said.”

The councillor backed towards the balcony of his box as Alvira moved closer, Tarast keeping watch at the door. “Whatever you have been told, it is a lie.”

“That seems broad.” Alvira tilted her head, looking over the elf’s face, seeing the worry in his eyes. “Surely you are guilty of something.”