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We emerged into a wide corridor with higher ceilings. The distant sounds of conversations and laughter warned of nearby servants, but Piro didn’t turn toward the sounds of life. Instead, he guided me to the left.

“Light and shadow elves reside mostly in Eldarlan, though some have settled further abroad. Twilight elves, on the other hand, are far more reclusive and live within the borders of Solhelm.”

Visualizing the map on Lord Greyson’s wall, I recalled seeing an isolated nation marked with that name in the far south.

“The few twilight elves living outside of Solhelm are either traveling on official state business or are in hiding. I wasn’t able to locate any on such short notice, but I could locate a light elf.” He stopped and motioned to an open doorway to his left. “After you.”

Feeling strangely nervous, I obeyed. A muffling spell brushed over my senses like a soft breeze as I stepped across the transition from the noisy corridor into the sudden quiet of a large airy room with multiple open doors lining the sides. Despite the lack of windows, the space glowed with the appearance and warmth of indirect, natural light.

“I will be right with you,” a male voice called from down a short corridor lined with more doorways.

Neat rows of bottles, boxes, and instruments lined the shelves on the walls. Stacks of linens in neatly labeled baskets nestled in corners, and a cluster of heavily upholstered chairs filled the middle of the space in the main room.

“Ah, Lord Piro, how can I assist you?” The elven male was tall, much taller than me, but not nearly as lofty as my giant companion. Handsome in a classical sense, his features lacked the devastating effect many high fae possessed. Otherwise, he could pass for fae from his pointed ears to the smooth braid of honey-colored hair hanging over his shoulder. His blue-silver gaze passed over the pair of us with clinical scrutiny as magic brushed over my skin. “Which of you is my patient?”

“Neither of us.” Lord Piro hunkered down and nodded to me. “Lady Rue, may I introduce you to Healer Wyntermere. Wynt, this is Lady Rue, late of Launham and current companion of Master Kent.”

“Ah, the twilight elf.”

“Half,” I clarified. Considering everything I didn’t know about them, I wasn’t sure I was willing to own the heritage—yet.

He nodded. “Which explains your fae eyes.”

“What?”

“Your eyes.” He motioned to my face as he began rolling up his sleeves. “They don’t have the attributes one would usually observe in an elf, no matter the variety.”

“The mixture of colors?” I asked.

“Yes.” He narrowed his gaze as he stared disconcertingly intensely into my eyes.

Ignoring the discomfort I always felt when someone studied me, I firmed my chin and met his scrutiny. I was tired of hiding.

To my surprise, the healer smiled. “I take that back. Your eyes still possess elven changeability.” Then straightening, he placed his hands on his hips and glanced from Piro to me and back. “Now, how can I help?”

Piro jutted his chin toward me. “Answer her questions.”

The healer, Wynt, turned toward me.

“I have none. I mean—I probably do, but I can’t think of any at the moment.” My face heated. “I didn’t even know I was meeting you until now.”

Piro chuckled.

Wynt smiled. “In that case, Lady Rue, I invite you to return whenever you do think of a question. I can’t promise I will be available. Although it isn’t obvious at the moment, this place tends to be full of patients and their friends. I usually have more to do than I have resources, but I will try to make time for you if I can.”

“Thank you.” I offered him a bow.

“Any word from Eldarlan?” Piro asked, abruptly changing the topic.

Wynt’s demeanor shifted from soft warmth to open worry. “None. I only just spoke with my contact a few hours ago.” He glanced over his shoulder at a window, the only one in the room. Beyond it, the sky glowed with true natural light. “If you linger a few moments longer, you can ask the spymaster’s messenger himself. I am expecting Ruthenor any moment now.”

Then, as though answering a summons, a shadow in the far corner of the room grew, deepening and thickening as the cool sensation of magic intensified. The strength of the power set my teeth on edge as the shadow formed the shape of a man—or rather, an elf.

I shivered as he took full form before my eyes. The raw power rolling off him almost matched Kent’s moment when the crown appeared on his head. I blinked and averted my gaze, but not before I glimpsed a slight lift to the left side of the dark-skinned elf’s mouth.

“I am not Ruthenor,” the new arrival informed them with an amused tone.

“That is evident,” Lord Piro responded with slight annoyance. “What brings you here, Lord Whispier?”