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Galodir and Fyralin stepped forward to greet them.
“Welcome to the Halls of Jewels.” Galodir grasped the hands of both travelers.
“You must be weary. Please have a seat.” Fyralin pointed to the empty chairs around the expansive table.
The female scout made her way to Eldrion first, grasping his elbow. “It is good to see you, Eldrion,” she said, her eyes showing a genuine warmth that momentarily offset her fatigued appearance.
“Lyra, it has been far too long,” Eldrion’s voice carried a note of affection that was hard to ignore. Anthea’s eyes lingered on the pair for a moment, noting the fondness that emanated from their brief interaction. Were they close friends? Lovers? Her mind flitted through a dozen possibilities. She pressed her lips together, wondering why she cared. Her musings were cut short when Eldrion’s eyes shifted toward her. Caught staring, an unwanted blush crept up her neck. She quickly averted her gaze to Galodir and the other scout sitting on the opposite side of the table.
Elodir, who had taken the seat next to her, leaned in. “They have come from the Golden City,” he said, “bringing news.”
The Golden City—the capital of the Obsidian court.
Anthea’s mind whirred as she considered the implications. She gave Elodir a thankful nod. In the short time since she’d been invited to these council meetings, Elodir had unexpectedly become a somewhat reliable ally, or at the very least, a source of much needed extra information. She had come to appreciate his dry wit and side commentary.
“Do we know if Taranath has any doubts remaining about the Crimson court’s alliance, Hemlion?” Galodir leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he addressed the male scout.
Hemlion shook his head. “If there are any doubts, they aren’t being spoken of openly. The fact the Crimson court has taken a human slave,” he paused, his eyes shifting toward Anthea, “has quelled some of the reservations, My King. But there’s more—Icarion has proposed another marriage. His daughter, Vanda. He has plans to marry her to Prince Aegonar.”
Anthea threw a quick glance at Kaelan, who looked as if he’d just bitten into something sour. Their eyes locked for a split second, but the warrior only shook his head and turned his attention back to the scouts.
“That is Icarion for you,” Vaelor spat. “Always seeking a way to solidify his power. And Vanda . . .” he paused, his face contorted with clear distaste, “if she sees a chance to strengthen her position through this union, she’ll grab it with both hands.”
“That is . . . worrying. It suggests the Obsidian court is moving fast to ensure their influence in the Crimson court.” Eldrion said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Have there been any signs of the dragons? Or the place where these beasts are being held?”
Hemlion shook his graying head. “This is a secret that only a few in the Obsidian court know. They’ve been extremely thorough in ensuring that any information about where the dragons are being held and how they’re being controlled remains a secret. Even trusted nobles within the Obsidian court are left in the dark. Taranath guards this secret well.”
“Maybe we’re lucky, and the dragons are dead. The Obsidian court has not unleashed them in over a hundred years,” Elodir said beside her.
“We cannot count on that. That’s what we thought the previous time, and it wasn’t so.” Kaelan’s voice was grave.
The atmosphere seemed to grow heavier. All eyes darkened at Kaelan’s mention of the previous time. Anthea dragged her eyes over the room. What had happened?
Fyralin’s voice broke through the somber silence. “This time, we have something we didn’t before.” Her hazel eyes locked onto Anthea’s. “We just need to find the next piece of the prophecy, and . . .” Anthea felt a weight settle on her as eyes turned in her direction. She straightened her posture, suddenly aware she was being scrutinized in a way that felt like a test. Lyra, the female scout, gave her an assessing glance that carried a hint of skepticism. It was as if she doubted that Anthea, a mere human, could be the linchpin in whatever plans they had.
“Is there any news about the symbols illustrating the prophecy?” Anthea asked, not willing to remain silent in the face of this scrutiny.
“The Crimson court has ramped up scouting missions in locations where similar markings are believed to be previously found,” Kaelan reported, the timbre of his voice sounding slightly gruffer than usual. “Our scholars are also working day and night, scouring ancient texts and records for any further references that could lead us to them.” Then, Kaelan shifted his gaze to Eldrion, catching Anthea a bit off guard. “How is her training going?” he asked, nodding subtly in her direction. Anthea felt her insides clench, her fingers curling into her palms under the table. She’d rather not have her training become the topic of conversation here. Especially when she wasn’t the one asked about it.
Eldrion’s eyes met hers for a moment, and she saw something reassuring in them—a fleeting promise of discretion. “It’s going well,” he answered simply, turning his gaze to Kaelan. Anthea didn’t miss the quick glance Lyra threw in Eldrion’s direction; a glance that carried questions Anthea couldn’t quite interpret but felt were important.
38
The moment Eldrion moved to demonstrate the hold, Anthea froze. His body against her back, his arms wrapped around, one around her waist the other gripping her neck in a firm hold—much like how he had held her when they first met. She could almost feel it, the collar around her neck, his relentless grip, the fear?—
Flashbacks of him choking her flooded her mind.
He must have felt her tense because he immediately let go and stepped away. “Anthea,” the elven warrior said softly, then he grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I won’t hurt you.” Eldrion’s eyes flickered to her neck, before rising back to hers. “You need to learn this. It is important for you to . . . I just want to make sure that the next time someone tries to take you—you can escape.”
His words, though reassuring, did little to quell the memory-induced fear coursing through her. Anthea looked up at his eyes, and nodded. This was training. He wasn’t going to choke her again. He wouldn’t do it again. And Eldrion was right. If she were ever caught again in such a situation, she needed to be able to escape. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and pressed her back against his chest. “Just, talk me through it, okay?”
“Okay. I’m going to assume the position now.” Eldrion wrapped his arms around her once more, and tightened his grip. “Use your legs and elbows,” he said, his voice a soft murmur above her ear. “Get leverage and free your hand.”
Anthea did as he said, using her elbow to push against his arm to create enough space to free her hand. She was surprised by the effectiveness of the movements, and how little strength it required when done correctly.
The moment she had her hand free, Eldrion guided it to the wooden dagger strapped to her thigh. “Reach for your weapon. Swiftly, cleanly. No hesitation.”
Her hand closed around the hilt, pulling the weapon free.
