Chapter 18: A Boy & A Girl

“And that’s about all of it,” Smythe finished with a sigh. He’d just told Aran, Elaina and Amina about the recent events at the Chapel, including the darkspawn attack and the timely arrival of Solovir.

Aran whistled softly. “Sounds like you had a close call, there.” His eyes reflected the concern Smythe could feel in him. “It’s fortunate that this Solovir appeared when he did.”

“You could say that,” Smythe replied brusquely, shrugging off the memory of being squashed beneath the Troll’s foot. “But I’ve had worse.” They didn’t need to worry themselves over him. Not really.

“The ulunn will be searching for Maloth,” Aran said. “They will roam north, drawn by him. Expect more attacks as they awaken. I also fear for the Sorral Plain. The people there have been through enough.”

“Perhaps the ulunn and the Heralds will wipe one another out,” Elaina suggested, sounding half serious and half wishful. “And do us all a big favour.”

“With the world as it is,” Amina began. “I am not surprised that the Alda’rendi have made themselves known to us. You must take care with them, Henley. Their goals may not align with our own.” With Aran present, the perpetual clouds over this world had opened in a wide ring, allowing sunlight to bathe the four arohim. Amina’s long golden hair shimmered as it shifted gently in the breeze.

“I had that very same feeling,” Smythe agreed. “Especially when I couldn’t read him. There were depths to him my vala could not touch.” Concentrating, he conjured an image of Solovir off to one side, so that the others could see him. He tried to get every detail accurate, from the shade of the eyes and hair to the shape of his figure to his clothing.

Amina shook her head. “I do not recognise him. I met an Alda’rendi many years ago, but this is not him.” She studied the Elf for a time, looking him over. The replica of Solovir just stared blankly into the distance, unblinking, almost like an incredibly realistic mannequin in a tailor’s shop. This one is old, I think. Perhaps old enough to have known the world before the car’mori.”

“You say Induin and Liaren trust him?” Aran asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Aye,” Smythe answered. “They seemed to just about worship the man.”

“Then I say we trust the wisdom of the Elves, for now,” the younger man said. Elaina nodded, as did Amina as she turned from her study of Solovir.

“She’s having a boy, by the way,” Smythe added. “Induin. According to Solovir, anyway. He has some ability to see beyond ordinary eyes.”

Aran’s face lit up. “And Liaren?”

“A girl.” Solovir hadn’t immediately disclosed the sex of Liaren’s babe, but Smythe had asked him about it later. Aran looked happier than Smythe had ever seen him. Elaina went to her amatharn and put her arms around his neck. She whispered something in his ear as they hugged, and Aran laughed and thanked her. When Elaina was done, Amina offered her own congratulations in a similar fashion. Once the hugs were finished, though, a more somber mood settled in.

“Now, more than ever,” Aran said, looking at them all in turn. “Our success is paramount.”

“What did you find at the Eastern Gates?” Elaina asked him. Smythe listened intently as Aran talked about the two Oron’noroth guarding the gates, and Maharad’s growing presence in their hearts. Smythe was relieved to hear that the dark force was chased away, this time, at least. On a happier note; from what Aran said about the village of Atlos, it sounded like a place Smythe wanted to visit sometime.

Aran finished his tale by saying that he planned on convincing the Elder Giants to prepare their people to fight. “An army of Noroth would be something, indeed,” Smythe mused. “Do you think they will come?”

“They have to,” Aran replied simply. There was a certainty in his gaze that put Smythe’s doubts to rest. If anyone could do it, Aran could. The man had a way of getting people to follow him.

It was Elaina’s turn next, and Smythe grimaced at hearing about her near-death by Herald blade – no doubt a Maharagi blade – not more than an hour after Aran had left the city. And then the miraculous appearance of a helpful stranger. Aran placed a hand on her shoulder, and while he did not seem happy about the news, he smiled and said, “You are a hard woman to kill, Elaina Fairborn.”

Elaina hardly seemed buoyed by Aran’s faith. “I couldn’t sense him. Had it not been for Noah, I would not be here.”

“Then we owe this Noah a great debt,” Amina said gently. “Do not be hard on yourself, child. The Nameless are shrouded from our eyes. It is the dark gift they receive from the heavy price they pay.”

“Perhaps I should not have left,” Aran began, but Elaina cut him off with a shake of her head.

“No,” she said firmly. “You cannot protect us all the time. There is enough on your shoulders already, my love. I will just have to grow eyes in the back of my head.” After a moment, she added with a sly grin, “Or perhaps enlist Noah as my bodyguard. He is a well put-together man.”

Aran chuckled. “That may not be a bad idea. You say that he is a friend?”

Elaina nodded. “I read him. He is honest, and his heart is in the right place.”

“Aros provides as required,” Amina said. “Often in ways we do not understand, at first.” Something in her voice made Smythe curious as to what she meant, but she answered his question before he asked it. “Sara has left the Temple,” the Priestess announced quietly. “Without my permission. I would have gone after her, but for the par’vali under my charge. Ayla and Tavish cannot be left alone. Especially not now.”

Aran cocked his head, frowning. “Why especially now?”

Amina pursed her lips in irritation, though it wasn’t directed at Aran. “Because not only did Sara leave without permission; she has apparently manifested an ability I have not seen since before the car’mori. The girl has awoken Ayla’s full potential.”

It was Smythe’s turn to whistle softly. “Normally this would be a blessing, of sorts,” Amina continued. “But for Sara to do this now, and then vanish, leaves me unable to pursue her. I cannot leave an untrained par’vala alone with all the power of a full Paladin.”

Smythe understood the predicament, and Elaina nodded gravely. Aran, however, was beaming as if he’d just heard terrific news. “She’s a Val’lthaniel!” He exclaimed excitedly. Elaina looked at him, bemused, and Smythe knew the same expression was on his own face. “A Starkindler!” Aran fixed a shining blue-eyed stare on Amina. “How long since we’ve seen a Val’lthaniel, Priestess? Twelve hundred years? They were rare even back then. I only recall there ever being one in all of Caer’maralonnia.”

Amina nodded slowly, and she eyed Aran curiously. Smythe and Elaina were doing the same. Aran was talking, but it was like someone else’s words were escaping his mouth. Even his accent changed sometimes. Smythe refused to feel unsettled, but it was still strange.

“I would think more,” she said in answer to Aran’s question. “The Val’lthaniel was indeed an uncommon gift.” She shifted her stance, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “I think I see what you are pleased about, Aran, though it presents its own dangers.”

“What’s a Starkindler?” Elaina asked. Smythe thought he already knew the answer. Amina confirmed his suspicions as she told Elaina about the ability that Sara had manifested, drawing out Ayla’s full power in moments, rather than over years of training. “Amazing,” Elaina breathed. A light of excitement shone in her own eyes as she considered the possibilities. “We could have new Paladins in a fraction of the time!”

“It is much more difficult,” Amina warned, “To train a par’vala with access to that much power. What it saves us in time we would make up for in work.” Smythe had to agree. He imagined what it would have been like training Aran if the man had turned up at his door wielding the power he could hold today. It would have been a disaster. Kedron and Ostin, however, were not likely to be near as powerful as Aran, so perhaps there was hope, there.

“Either way,” Amina continued. “Sara is gone, and I am left with Ayla, though I will handle her. Where Sara is headed, I haven’t the faintest clue. She left no trace of her intentions behind.”

“She will be well,” Aran said confidently. “Wherever she is going, it’s for a good reason.”

They talked about Sara some more, and touched again on the various pieces of news given here and there, and for a short time, they enjoyed being in each other’s company again, even for so brief a time. Amina, Aran and Elaina were Smythe’s family. The four arohim ended their meeting with a short but passionate interval of lovemaking right there on the lush grass behind the Chapel before one by one, they vanished from amathani and rejoined the waking world, but not before a sudden statement from Amina, delivered as if she’d just seen something right in front of her fine nose.

“You have a meldin, now,” the Priestess said suddenly, despite Smythe having left that part out. He hadn’t meant to keep it from them, but with the attack on the Chapel and all, he’d forgotten. How did Amina know?

“Aye,” he confirmed with a smile. “Elsa. She is a good woman.” His friends all beamed at the news, and Amina and Elaina hugged him one last time before they disappeared.

“Cause and effect,” Smythe thought he heard Aran whisper right before he vanished, though he didn’t see the man’s lips move. With Aran gone, the clouds began to encroach again, rolling over the Chapel to cover the sun and plunge the Chapel grounds back into deep shade.

“I’ll be bloody glad when this is all over,” Smythe muttered as he took one last look at the leaden sky before returning to his body.

CHAPTER 18.2: Elaina the Woman

Elaina sat up in the bed she’d been sharing with Aran until earlier today. The massive stone construct with its thick square pillars at each corner was far too big even for two people, and by herself it had felt like she was floating alone in a sea of soft feather mattress. As such, beside her, Liddea stirred softly before turning over onto her back. The silk sheet had fallen down almost to the Dwarf’s waist, revealing massive, pale breasts that defied logic, but then, that was Dwarves for you. The women were like walking stacks of curves.

Her mind still spun with Amina’s news of Sara missing, and that remarkable power! She hoped the girl was well, wherever she was. She chose not to dwell too much on Henley’s brush with death, as she hoped he was not doing with hers. Theirs was a life of danger, and it must be accepted.

She didn’t know what time it was; there was no sunlight this far down inside the mountain, but she thought it was late evening. Ignoring the urge to cuddle up to the comely Dwarf, Elaina slipped from the bed and crossed the room to the stone wardrobe, stopping to light a couple of the lamps standing around the room. She didn’t need the light, but she liked the ambience it created.

She planned on visiting Burin and wanted to dress appropriately. What would he most appreciate? A few of the noblewomen in the city had been most generous with gifts of dresses and such, as a token of their good will toward arohim being in the city once again. Arohim were well regarded, here in Dun’Arghol, where Edellein Sura had helped pull the city out of the dust of the Purge.

Aran and Elaina’s coming had the city bubbling with excitement, for the most part. Especially the way Aran had announced his presence. She let her fingers trail over some of the gowns, many of which were low in the neckline; a fashion that Dwarves favoured. A shimmering black piece all in silk caught her eye, but when she pulled it out, she saw it had a split up the outside of one thigh which would leave her leg bare to the hip, and an oval cutout in the bosom which would put the inside curves of her breasts on display. She liked it, but it was wrong for the occasion; she didn’t want Burin to think she was there to seduce him. If she did sleep with him, it needed to be his idea alone.

“What are you doing?” Liddea asked sleepily from the bed. Elaina turned to see the Dwarf watching her, leaning back on her hands. The position did wonderful things to Liddea’s chest, a fact that Elaina was sure the arondur was aware of. Her red curls were tousled from sleep, though it made her even more alluring, to Elaina’s eyes.

“I’m going to see Burin,” she told Liddea as she replaced the black dress and pulled out a crimson one which had no back, just a tie at the neck. She was quite sure that once on the tops of her buttocks would be visible. In front, two tapering strips would contain her breasts, leaving the outsides bare, as well as plenty of cleavage. Again, she liked it, but not for now. “And I’m trying to find the right dress.”

“You look good in anything,” Liddea scoffed gently. “Or nothing,” she added slyly.

Elaina chuckled. “If I listen to you, I’ll end up visiting him in just that: Nothing.”

“And the problem with that is?” Liddea queried. “What man is going to refuse you clad in your skin?”

“That’s just the thing,” Elaina explained. “This is not a seduction. Burin must decide to fight on his own. I merely want to have the conversation with him. I cannot have him think he’s being manipulated. If anything, I want to dress down for this.”

Liddea remained silent for a time as Elaina continued to peruse the dresses. It seemed like each one was more scandalous than the last. “You cannot go to him from a position of weakness,” the Dwarf said finally. “Nor can you present too strongly.” Elaina turned to regard her lover, wondering where she was going with this. “He must see you as flesh and blood, as a real woman. Not as one of the revered arohim with powers he does not understand.”

Liddea exited the big bed and came to stand before Elaina, looking up at her intently. “He needs to see Elaina Fairborn the woman, not Elaina Fairborn the slayer of Trolls and object of mens’ desires.” She finished with a cheeky grin to take the sting off the words. Elaina saw the sense in what she was saying.

“Alongside everything else that you are,” Liddea added. “You are a woman in love with a man who is carrying the world on his shoulders. Burin will understand this. That’s how you’ll reach him.”

Elaina eyed Liddea in pleased surprise. “Your wisdom is deep, Liddea bu kin,” she said, borrowing a term she’d heard Aran use in Liddea’s native tongue. “Thank you.” She bent to kiss her softly. “I think I know what to do now.”

The next dress she pulled out was exactly what she was looking for. All in simple white unembroidered linen, with full length sleeves, it fell all the way to the floor and fit her curves well without hugging them too tightly. Liddea helped her into it, and a short time later she was studying herself in the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe, smoothing the fabric over her hips. The neckline was the most modest she’d seen, only showing maybe an inch of cleavage.

“Elaina the woman, ey?” Elaina mused as she eyed herself critically.

“Elaina the woman,” Liddea repeated firmly as she adjusted the dress here and there, tugging at this bit and then that to get it sitting right. Liddea found her some slippers to wear, and then made her sit on the bed while she fussed with her hair, getting it just so.

An hour later, Elaina was standing outside Burin’s private quarters before a tall, bronze door flanked by a pair of stout guards on each side, all armoured in full plate. The door was carved elaborately, displaying the tiger that was Burin’s sigil. Elaina made to announce herself, but one of them slipped inside as she approached; they already knew who she was. The guard came back out a minute later.

“The King will see you, Elaina arohim,” he said formally. His fellows stepped aside to allow her through as he pushed the door open. Offering thanks, Elaina stepped inside into a spacious antechamber. A wide, red carpet ran the length of the room, which was unfurnished bar a few lit standing lamps along the walls. There was an archway on the left and right walls, and a larger one at the other end.

“He’s in the bath chamber,” one of the guards said from the doorway behind her. “On the right.” Elaina thought she heard splashing and feminine giggling coming from that direction, but she resisted the urge to use her vala to see what it was. I’m doing this the way you wanted, Aran. You had better be right.

Walking to the archway, she saw a wide set of stairs leading up. She began to ascend, not quite having to duck her head as the passed under the arch; high ceilings were not required in the king’s chambers. Rich, masculine laughter echoed down the stairs as she climbed, followed by squeals and more splashing. What was she walking into? It sounded like Burin was bathing with his concubines and having a fine time of it!

The air grew heavy with heat and steam as she climbed, and firelight played in the opening above. Once at the top of the stairs, she walked into Burin’s bath chamber, a massive, square room that wasn’t unlike her own back at the Chapel, except it was about four times larger. The source of the cavorting was apparent as her eyes fell on the enormous pool in the centre of the room. Burin was indeed not alone; four pretty Dwarves were with him, laughing gaily as they played in the water. The king was leaning back against the side of the bath, directly opposite Elaina, watching the women play as he sipped a mug of ale. Beads of water shone where they clung to the dense jungle of hair on his thick chest.

As Elaina entered, his eyes came up to regard her. The roaring fire in the wide hearth behind him gave Burin something of an orange halo, and Elaina couldn’t decide if he looked attractive, or ominous. “Elaina arohim!” He cried, grinning from ear to ear as he smacked his empty mug down on the edge of the bath. One of the women immediately scrambled out of the water and rushed to grab his mug. Elaina’s eyes followed the beauty – she had the darkest skin Elaina had ever seen on a Dwarf; a very deep brown – as she took the mug to a big barrel in the corner and refilled it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Burin asked as the mug was placed back in his hand. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Elaina.

“I was hoping to speak with you, your Highness,” Elaina answered. The dark Dwarf girl dived back into the water smoothly and resumed cavorting with the others.

“Yes,” the king said flatly. “I was wondering when you’d come.” The smile, which had not touched his eyes, evaporated from his face. There was a slight drawl to his words, too; as if he was already a few ales in. “Will you join me? The water is rather pleasant.” There was just a hint of menace to his tone, almost imperceptible. Elaina thought the room grew a little colder, though with the fires blazing, that was impossible. She wished she’d brought Shatter; something was off about Burin, tonight. More so than earlier.

Elaina shook her head. “If it’s all the same, your Highness, I will not. I have bathed already.”

“Ha!” Burin barked suddenly. His sudden changes of mood were making Elaina’s skin crawl. Gods, how she wanted to use her vala. “An arohim that wants to keep her clothes on! You must be the first of your kind!” Draining his mug with one long pull, he put it down and levered himself out of the bath smoothly, easily lifting his wide, muscular body from the water until he was sitting on the edge. His body was decorated with half a dozen scars, crossing his skin this way and that; Burin was no stranger to battle.

He opened his legs, brazenly displaying his nudity to her. His cock stood hard, reaching past his navel to the tip of his silver-banded beard. He clicked his fingers, and two concubines waded over to tend him with their hands and mouths.

Elaina ignored the display. She folded her hands at her waist and stayed focused on his eyes, trying to decipher what lay behind them. Something was different about him, alright. The Burin from yesterday had been stubborn, angry and frustrated, but he had not been rude, nor had he looked at her with borderline animosity.

“How do you think he fares?” Burin asked derisively as his servants pleasured him. “The Sunblade.” He invested Aran’s name with scorn.

Anger flared in Elaina, but she contained it. “He is through the gates safely. He is a capable man.”

“As you say,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He held up his mug for another refill. “Though I hesitate to believe you. He is probably dead, by now.”

Elaina wanted to hit Burin. Her idea to approach him from a position of vulnerability vanished, replaced by anger. “I know for a fact he is not,” she told him, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “Though the gatekeepers were in fact corrupted by Maharad, or near enough to it. Aran has lifted the shadow from their eyes, at least for now.”

Burin’s chest began to heave up and down, and a wheezing laugh echoed around the chamber. “He believes he is the saviour, but he truly cannot see. If he is not dead yet, then he soon will be.” The wheezing cut off suddenly, and his face was all stony planes once again. Elaina wondered if the man had finally gone completely mad. Despite her promise, she drew on her vala just a fraction, as an assurance against any nasty surprises. Burin grunted, then, as his arousal peaked, and he bucked slightly as he emptied himself into one of his servants’ mouths. Satisfied, he rudely pushed them off and stood, facing Elaina across the water.

“It sounds almost like you expected him to die,” Elaina suggested flatly. She deliberately left any honorifics out of her speech. Burin would get no more respect from her until he offered some back. “Or is that what you hoped?”

The king sneered. Despite the fire behind him, a shadow seemed to darken his end of the room. It was not Elaina’s imagination; something was very wrong here. The concubines seemed to sense it, too, and they clambered out of the bath and hurried from the chamber, not even bothering to take towels.

“I am everywhere,” Burin growled, and suddenly, Elaina knew she was not speaking to Burin anymore, but Maharad. A worm of fear wriggled in her belly. How was she going to fight a God? She didn’t have Aran’s power! Aros protect me and guide me through this darkness. “The Sunblade can have the Giants,” he said as he began to circle the edge of the bath toward her. “I need them not. I have found something far more valuable.” A light shone in his dark eyes as he looked her over, leaving no question as to what he meant; her.

Elaina set her feet and pulled on her full power. Something pushed against it, dark and cold. Burin was before her in a heartbeat, his foreboding stare boring into her. The skin beneath his eyes had darkened. It reminded her of the Herald that had attacked her today.

“Don’t give in!” She urged Burin, speaking to the man she knew was still in there. “Fight it!” The darkness surged against her, stronger, and she pushed back with all her strength. She could hold him, like this, but for how long?

Suddenly the guards from outside burst in, swords out. They must have seen the girls rushing out. “My King!” One of them cried. Elaina chanced a look to see confused expressions on their faces. To them, it would simply appear that Burin and Elaina were standing close together and staring at one another intensely.

“Get away!” Elaina shouted as she flung out a hand to halt them right before Burin struck her across the face with the back of his hand. The force of the blow pushed her face to the side, but she weathered it otherwise. She glared at him hotly as she felt warm blood trickle from the corner of her mouth.

“Ignore her!” Burin bellowed. “She is bewitching us as I knew she would!” Frowning, the guards made to move towards Elaina, their faces set and their fingers flexing on the hilts of their weapons.

Desperate, Elaina quickly enveloped them in her vala and touched her heart to theirs, showing them her true intent. They halted as one and looked uncertainly between her and their king. Elaina needed to do something, and quickly. If Maharad already had Burin so far in his grasp, then this could all end very badly. Why hadn’t Aran sensed Maharad in Burin before?

With a whip-quick motion, Burin’s arm shot up and his hand closed around her throat. He pressed his face closer until she could smell the ale on his breath. “You and I are going to have much fun, arohim. Let me in, and I will show you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever known.” He squeezed, and Elaina’s throat tightened. She gripped Burin’s wrist, but made herself relax, slowing her heart and delaying the need to breathe. Discreetly, her other hand went to the small of her back.

“He will feel everything I do to you,” Burin growled. “Your fates are tied, and when I snap your thread, his will unravel.” He was talking about Aran.

“My King?” One of the guards asked uncertainly. “Are you ... well?”

Burin’s head whipped around and he fixed the Dwarf with a stare that could chip diamonds. “OUT!” He roared. The guards swallowed, and they went pale to a man. Their feet shifted, but they seemed reluctant to leave Elaina.

Burin’s - Maharad’s - energy pushed harder against Elaina’s vala, and she felt her strength giving. How was he so strong! What would happen to her if she crumbled under his assault? What would happen to Aran? Using all her considerable strength, she tried to pull Burin’s wrist away from her throat, but it moved no more than an iron bar would.

“You ... can’t ... have ... me,” she rasped as her fingers dug beneath the wide sash of her dress. “Or Aran.” With a tug, she pulled free the Maharagi blade and plunged it into Burin’s side. His eyes widened as he felt the knife go in, and he gasped at the shock. Elaina held hilt firmly. She’d carefully wrapped it in cloth before securing it behind her sash, ensuring no part of the weapon would touch her skin.

Burin released her throat and stumbled back. Elaina stepped forward with him and seized a handful of his hair at the nape of his neck, keeping him upright. His expression was still one of surprised shock, but as she watched, he smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered. The shadow around him evaporated, then, rising like dark steam from his body and vanishing in the air. He sagged limply in her grip as his legs gave.

Lowering him gently to the ground, Elaina shouted at the guards to get help. One of them scrambled away, bellowing for a healer. The others remained standing inside the archway, dumbstruck; they no doubt had seen the shadow leaving their king. Carefully, she pulled the knife free and placed it on the ground beside her. The blade had only entered muscle and flesh; she had deliberately missed any vital organs. The bone-hilted dagger began to disintegrate, then, until it was no more than a pile of grey ash on the stone.

“I fought him ... for so long,” Burin said softly as he looked up at her. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye. He winced then, as Elaina placed a hand over the wound in his side. “By the Stonelord, that hurts.”

Elaina smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t see another way to free you.”

Burin shook his head. “Do not apologise, fagr arohim. You did what must be done. I am free of him, now.” His brow furrowed in pain. “I owe you and Sunblade a great debt. If I survive, I will see it paid.”

“We will talk of debts later, if ever,” Elaina replied. “And rest easy; I did not strike you with a killing blow. You will be fine.”

Burin nodded gratefully at that, but his eyes turned sad. “I almost wish you hadn’t,” he told her. “I sent him to his death, Elaina. If he is truly the Anarion, then I would have doomed the world.”

“Perhaps,” Elaina said. “But we arohim are difficult to kill. Aran much more so than the rest of us.” Elaina was surprised when Burin reached up to brush her cheek with his finger.

“He used my body, my words, to order your death,” he breathed in almost a whisper. “I couldn’t stop him.” He meant Maharad had taken control, and Burin had had no choice but to witness it like a passenger in his own body. That explained how the Herald had gotten into the city.

“It was not you,” Elaina assured him. “I know your heart, my King. He used your grief for your sister against you, and for that you cannot be blamed.” Burin said nothing in response, but Elaina saw in his eyes that he’d heard her.

“How did you survive?” He asked, stifling a groan. “He was so sure ... that you wouldn’t see him coming.”

“Like I said,” Elaina answered. “We are hard to kill.” She decided not to tell him about Noah. Why, she couldn’t say, but something stayed her tongue.

“Is she really ... Could she really be alive?” Burin asked. “Glinda? I dared not allow the light of hope into my heart, for the pain was already too great.” He made as if to sit up, but Elaina gently pushed him back down. One of the guards moved further into the room and fetched a dry towel from near the fireplace. He brought it back to Elaina so she could tuck it beneath Burins’ head.

“We believe so,” she confirmed. “I have seen her with my own eyes, in a fashion. She is a remarkably beautiful woman.”

Burin coughed a rough laugh. “Ha! Half my time was spent chasing off suitors who could not do her justice. The other half was convincing her to marry someone who could, but she wanted none of them.” A fond smile broke his pained expression. “She was never meant for a royal life, my sister. I never should have driven her away.”