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“And?”

“I’d rather not say in front of everyone.”

My father’s eyes stay trained on mine as he says, “Leave.”

And it is so. All of the Elves lift their long tunics and leave. Even the servants cross the bridges to other parts of the palace, leaving just Ramona, myself, and the Lord of the Forest.

Not sure where to start, I jump right in. “We are searching for an ancient relic known as the Marfik stone. We have reason to believe that it was last seen here.”

Father leans into the arching high-backed chair, pondering.

Ramona cuts in flatly, “Well?”

“The moon stone is a familiar item.”

My lungs fill with a quick breath. This is it. All I have to do is ask. Ask my father, the oldest Elf I know, to give me something. Butterflies flutter beneath my ribs.

Elves don’t just give things willingly, not even to their own kin. All that is given is with a price. “I… I was hoping we could have it.”

The Lord of the Forest clasps his hands together on the table. “I will agree to discussing this more—”

“Great!”

“—only after you dine three times with the court.”

“But Father, we need to get back to the Watch right away! There is something terribly wrong with the moon, and—“

Lord Clayoq stands abruptly, pressing his fingers into the table. The forest goes silent save the hissing of snakes now swirling down the columns. “I will not be rushed into making decisions by my own kin!” His voice would echo through the forest if I didn’t have a solarys shield already cast around the pergola, blocking others from hearing our conversation.

My shoulders hunch forward instinctively at the raw fury in his voice. Under the table, Ramona grabs my hand. Her fingers, so small yet strong, intertwine around my own, grounding me.

“You will dine thrice with the court. At the end of the third dinner, we will talk once more about this. I have been made aware of the situation at hand, and I don’t care if the entire solar system is drifting away into endlessness. Nothing—I mean nothing—interferes with tradition.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And tradition dictates that the return of royal bloodlines after war”—he puts a hand up, likely to interject the statement on the tip of my tongue that I wasn’t at war, not really, but he continues anyway—“must be spent in celebration.”

“I understand.” Even my voice sounds hesitant. Like I’m a teenager again, trapped under the almighty ruler and authority.

Ramona squeezes my hand three times, and I feel what she is saying without words. It’s, I’m right here and here for you and I’m with you.

To everyone else, she is a human made of pointed edges and polished steel. But to me, she is Ramona, my best friend. A friend who would put my own comfort above her forgiveness.

29

Thank you

The portrait is gruesome and beautiful at the same time. Possibly why I like it so much. I run my finger along the massive wooden carving, dipping it along the waves of the river and bumps of the tree leaves. Both the River and Forest tribes are depicted in ancient glory, ears pointed, swords sharpened. They stand a foot taller than the ruddy, squat humans on the opposite side of the battlefield. It’s clear that the animosity between races during the First Wars was at its highest by the depictions of the humans, faces permanently screaming with terror.

I chuckle under my breath. Akemi would be beside herself if she was here to see the art and the stories they hold. She would ask so many questions that even the Elves known for their patience would get annoyed.

The next carving is of a beautiful elven woman. Her lips are pulled up slightly more on one side, showcasing the smallest dimple. Even preserved through wood, the woman has an ethereal, unmistaken beauty. My hand moves of its own accord, reaching toward her like a flower does the sun.

“I see you’ve met my mother,” a deep voice says from behind, causing the hairs on my neck to raise but not from fear.

“Leaf.” I turn to find him leaning against the wall, wearing a cream colored tunic with a green beaded trim. But instead of a deep, plunging neckline, the vest is wide open. One of his muscular arms is propped above his head.

Holy fucking muscles.