She blinked grit from her eyes and straightened her back, grateful to be off the horse.Her skin itched.She was dirtier than she could ever remember being in her whole, entire life.Traveling had always been in carriages, or the occasional sedate promenade on horseback, not bone-jarring trots, endless hours rocking in the saddle, or sleeping on the hard earth.Her no-longer-necessary dress and underskirts had not helped much there after all.
Any illusions she had about the romance of travel were gone for good.
She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other while keeping Ritathan’s back right in front of her as she followed him inside.Their escort, human and vore, followed.
The Great Hall was dark and cold, with just a few lanterns clustered around the High Seat of the Chosen.
“So, Ritathan of Edenrich, Chained Mage, you have returned.”A woman, clearly in charge, stood beside the High Seat and greeted them with a snarl, much like the two vore that stood at her side.Her voice echoed coldly.“Bringing ill winds and ill fortune, no doubt.”
A chill rippled over Halithe’s skin.
They walked forward, escort close behind, until they stood at the base of the platform.
“That was many years past, Latarie,” Ritathan said mildly.“I’d hoped you’d grown as a person, moved past those events.Forgiven, if not forgotten.”
Halithe’s stomach clenched as one of the vore showed its teeth.Her life in the Royal Courts had taught Halithe that there were times when it was best to keep one’s head down and eyes on the floor.This was one of those times.
But she was starting to suspect that her wise, old mentor wasn’t as wise as she’d thought.
“You burned down the hay barn,” Latarie snapped.
“That wasn’t me,” Ritathan replied.
“You set the road afire as you fled,” she pressed.
Halithe looked up at that.
“Yes, well, fine, that was me,” Ritathan shrugged dismissively.“If you recall, I was being chased by farm-hands with sharpened farm implements.”He pulled himself up to his full height and stared the woman down.“I’m sorry you still carry these grudges,” he said.“I am honestly not here to cause you—or anyone—grief or pain.”He peered around, as if looking for someone.“If I could perhaps speak to the Chosen,” he said mildly, as he returned his gaze to Latarie and nodded to the empty High Seat.
Halithe blinked at his nerve.
“No,” Latarie said.“You may not.”
Ritathan cocked his head.“The Chosen has a reputation for hospitality and welcome, and a willingness to hear any who come before her.Has something changed?”
At this, their escort stirred, almost soundlessly, behind them.
The biggest of the vore next to Latarie barked and its interpreter spoke.“We will not risk our Chosen to one who wields—”
“Is there a party?”came a quivering voice.
A white-haired woman appeared from behind the High Seat, looking out at them with wide eyes and a smile.She was frail-looking and pale.Her hair, as white as the snow outside, was braided and wrapped around her head so that just the points of her ears peeked out.“It’s cold in here,” she chirped, rubbing her arms.
Halithe froze.Elven.This woman was elven.Halithe had heard of the elves, of course, heard all the old stories, but they had died out years ago.As far as she knew.
Two more women rushed in, clearly caretakers.“We just turned our backs for a moment,” one insisted.
The Chosen ignored them, settling into the High Seat as if she owned it.Well, Halithe thought, she did.“And who is this?”the elf asked, staring at Halithe.
“Halithe, my apprentice, Chosen.”Ritathan said.
“Ritathan,” the Chosen said as her wrinkles grew into a smile and she held out her hands.“Are your chores done?I’ve cookies in the oven.”
Ritathan glanced at Latarie, who shrugged and nodded.He advanced and knelt, gently taking her slender fingers in his.“They’ve been done for some time, Chosen.”
The Chosen’s face fell and it seemed to Halithe that her eyes clouded.“Oh, my lad,” she said softly as she reached up and cupped his cheek with a frail hand.“If you chose this path, you cannot stay in Athelybryght, nor ever return.Please do not do this to us.It will crush Aramal, he loves you, we love you, Rit, and we want you to be happy, but not magic, my boy.Never that.”
Tears were forming in her eyes, making them glitter like stars.Halithe was caught by her beauty, ethereal and precious, almost with a magic of its own.
