Page 94 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“Agreed,” Elara said brightly. She shot Njall a triumphant look, turned toward the racks, and began studying the weapons. Her fingers hovered just short of the hilts, as though untangling the secrets of craftsmanship.

Njall narrowed his eyes at Gavriel but said nothing.

Gavriel offered an apologetic but unrepentant shrug. Then the playfulness faded. He weighed whether to tell Njall what he had seen earlier. Keeping Astriyed and Sarvo from him felt wrong, yet he could not bring himself to break his friend’s heart tonight.

“I’ve been pondering what you told me earlier,” Gavriel said instead. “About oraivane. Oorlon’s experiments.” He looked down at his forearms, where pale scars crossed like old maps. “During the battle of Netherfen Hallows, I remember noticing how many attackers had color in their eyes. Glowing color.” He paused. “I believe that was an early trial. Oorlon isn’t collecting humans to satisfy his curiosities… he’s building an army.”

Njall raised a brow. “An army of humans? When he already commands one of fae?”

“Perhaps it’s for sport. Or he means to use humans so fae need not die for his ambitions.”

Njall considered that. “Well… it is harder to replace a fae life than a human one—” His expression twisted into horror. “Literally speaking, I mean. By manner of birth, not worth.”

Gavriel barked a laugh. “I know what you meant.”

Njall relaxed and looked back toward the yard, where Elara had reached the spear rack. She lifted a practice shaft, testing its weight. The first swing wobbled. The second found rhythm. When she noticed them watching, she gave a mock salute.

“She escaped three times,” Njall admitted quietly, almost smiling.

“Of course,” Gavriel replied. “She has the look of a hare that is secretly a fox.” He raised his voice slightly. “If you plan to steal a weapon, choose one you can hide up a sleeve.”

She grinned, unabashed. “Duly noted.”

Gavriel laughed, then glanced back at Njall. The male was still watching her with an intensity that made him pause. He almost spoke, then let the moment pass.

“I must go.” Something uncertain moved behind Njall’s eyes before he turned back. “Damlor is waiting for me.” He hesitated. “Thank you for this; I know it is a risk.”

Gavriel waved the thought aside, though unease stirred in his gut. “It’s no greater burden than being Oorlon’s captive.”

Njall gave an amused grunt of agreement. “Don’t give Pietre cause to regret this,” he said dryly to Elara before disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

“I swear to the moons I won’t run,” Elara called after him with a defiant smile as she returned to Gavriel’s side. “But I make no promises about whether you’ll wish I had.”

Gavriel laughed under his breath. “Come along, then. Best to get you hidden before the walls pick up fresh gossip.”

He led her through a narrow archway toward a small storeroom at the edge of the yard, its stone walls crowded with neglected armor, dented helms, and coils of rope. A lone lantern burned low, casting a steady pool of violet light across the floor. “You’ll stay here for now,” he said quietly. “I’ll return in the morning to see how you fare.”

Elara nodded, surveying the cramped space before turning back to him. “Will you stay a while?” she asked. Earnest brown eyes lifted to meet his. “It helps seeing another human. For a time, I thought I never would again.”

“I know the feeling.” Weariness tugged at him, but Gavriel ignored it. “I suppose I can spare a few moments for my own kind.”

She smiled, then settled on the floor. “Where are you from?”

“Duskmere.” Gavriel lowered himself beside her. “A border town. Quiet, mostly. And you?”

“Kryovarre. Up in the mountains. Not the sort of place anyone bothers to mark on a map.” She drew her knees close. “What brought you so far from home?”

Gavriel hesitated, considering his words carefully.

“My town was attacked by fae two years ago,” he said at last. “The fighting didn’t last long. I was captured.”

Her brow furrowed. “I used to think fae were stories. Moonlight tricks. Half warnings. To learn they’ve been crossing into our lands all this time…”

“They’re careful,” Gavriel said with a crooked, rueful smile. “Very good at not being noticed.”

She studied him. “If you’re a prisoner, how do you move about so freely?”

Gavriel swallowed. “I was… lord of my town,” he said. The lie felt worse speaking it to her. “That affords certain allowances.”