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“Punishments?” She sensed a story there.
Relian sighed. “That’s for a later day.”
Cal didn’t complain at his refusal, as her mind already overflowed with all she’d learned. Who would’ve thought it would take almost getting killed to squeeze some information from him?
***
Two days later, Relian watched as his father slowly rose from his elaborately carved chair. Strolling at a leisurely pace, his father headed toward a glaring Eamon, who stood bound in chains and surrounded by soldiers. A thick bandage was wound around the accursed elf’s wrist, and his pallid complexion more than hinted he was still in pain from his injury.
All in all, the enjoyable sight made Relian smile coldly. The terror of Eamon holding a knife to Cal’s neck haunted his dreams and every waking second. Even now, a cold sweat broke out on his skin at the memory. A quick glance at Cal, who stood toward the front of the crowded room, calmed his fears. She was here—alive and well. The cuts on her neck and cheek were vanishing, thanks to elvin medicine, and the healing wound on her chest would do likewise in another week or so. As if she felt his gaze on her, she turned a sad smile on him.
Talion’s voice rang out in the throne room, drawing his attention away from Cal. “Lord Eamon, for the attempted murder of Lady Calantha, you are hereby banished.”
A jolt of satisfaction coursed through Relian as Eamon stayed sullenly quiet. Though the elf before him might be his cousin, Eamon had long severed any ties through his behavior. A quick death was too good for him. Banishment would make him suffer more than anything else he could think of.
Relian looked at Cal, and his jubilation cooled. Her already pale face drained of whatever color it’d possessed. She wasn’t used to seeing justice meted out firsthand, but as his princess, it’d be a hard lesson she’d learn by experience all too often.
“Any last words you would like to say?” Talion asked Eamon.
A sneer came to Eamon’s lips. “Only that you all will be sorry. You know not what you do to our world.”
Relian nearly snorted at Eamon’s overdramatic reply. Though precautions would have to be taken to make sure his cousin didn’t sneak back into Eria, the thought of no longer harboring the viper sweetened his mood.
Talion gave Eamon a derisive look. “I think we’ll take that chance.”
***
Trying to put the Eamon event of the last few days behind her, Cal smiled at Relian. The creeper had been banished yesterday, so there was no cause for worry anymore. She breathed in the scent that permeated the enclosed patio that housed a dizzying array of plants and flowers. To get here, Relian and Kenhel had guided her and Maggie through a dizzying number of hallways in the royal wing.
When she and Maggie had first arrived in Eria, she hadn’t realized how the paths, corridors, and courtyards interconnected everything. The many structures merged and flowed together into one big edifice. She’d never seen this section of the rambling palace before, though. As with almost anything concerning the palace area, she wasn’t disappointed by what she saw.
Maggie, probably eager to try out the new language they’d been learning, cleared her throat. “What are you exactly?” she asked slowly, but her words were clear. “I know you told us you’re all elves, but is that what you really are? Is it what you call yourselves?”
Relian and Kenhel shared a look before Relian spoke, taking care to enunciate his words. “Tuatha de Danann, the sídhe, the Fair Folk—we were called all those and more over the years. None of them are accurate but none false, either.”
Cal frowned. That was his explanation? “How so?” It couldn’t be true and false at the same time. Did he delight in giving such responses just to make her head spin?
Kenhel fielded that question, a definite gleam in his eye. “Our being, our existence, gave rise to those stories, but they don’t reflect who we are, as they aren’t true representations of us.” The seriousness of his tone belied the expression in his eyes.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “But that still doesn’t explain how you think of yourselves or what you are. Don’t even think about giving us another cryptic answer that sounds smart but tells us nothing.” She leveled a firm glare at both elves to punctuate her statement.
A voice came from the doorway that led to the adjoining study. “They wouldn’t think of such a thing, my lady.”
Talion. Oh, no. His tone of voice inferred that he wouldn’t have any such compunction in doing so and would, just to frustrate her friend.
Maggie froze and closed her eyes. Cal wished she could give her friend a shot of strength.
To Cal’s surprise, Talion merely gazed at Maggie before he spoke. “Haven’t you been learning about and observing us in our everyday tasks? Let that suffice to tell you how we think of ourselves. I believe that the answer as to what we call ourselves rests in the language you’re now speaking.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes to a slit, clearly suspicious this gentle rebuke might turn into all-out war. “Still can’t figure out the answer. However, I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
Relian slid his hand over Cal’s knee and up her thigh until he reached the hand in her lap. As her eyes met his, a smile flitted across his face. He nodded toward his father and Maggie, shaking his head in amused consternation.
“Of course.” Talion inclined his head, face impassive. “As you know, ‘eivana’ is a term we use when referring to ourselves, so we are eivana or elvin, which is the closest word that is available in English, according to our sources. ‘Eivan’ roughly means ‘elves’ in your language.”
“That does make sense,” Maggie begrudgingly admitted before her eyebrows shot up. “Sources?” She tapped her index finger to her lips. Her glare encased all three elves as she apparently remembered something that’d been niggling at her alarm-o-meter.
Cal couldn’t say she blamed her. It appeared the elves had been keeping more secrets from them. Before she could say anything, though, Maggie beat her to it. “How do you know all the different names you are called in English if you’ve never been to Earth?”
