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“Tea from Elder birch bark.” Rheih poured it down my throat until my sheets were splattered with black specks. “Clears ash from the lungs. Inhale too much and it can fatally strain your heart.” She tutted her tongue to the top of her mouth. “But I don’t think you will die in your sleep tonight. Thanks to me.”
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and swallowed another swig of the tea. A vial of clear elixir with swirls of violet shadow fell onto my lap. Rheih folded her arms, pleased with herself. “The fast talker told me you needed more of it.”
I didn’t even have time to feel relieved. I stashed the vial in my pocket and pulled myself up from the cot. We weren’t in the infirmary in Myrelinth. The room was small and bright, made entirely of wood so thick that I could see the tiny veins of water pumping through the grain.
“Where is Vrail?” I spotted my weapons belt beside the cot and put it on. “I need to speak to everyone. Now.”
Rheih clucked her tongue and shook her head of gray curls. “No one appreciates a healer.” Her yellow eyes narrowed at me. “Not even healers themselves.”
“You’re the best healer I know.” I bent down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. I only had a moment to enjoy the apparent shock on Rheih’s face before she settled back into her grumpy state.
She pointed to the door. “They’re waiting for you in the council room.”
I ran out before she could say anything more.
Sil’abar was much brighter than it had been the night of that first dinner Feron had invited me to when I’d crossed into Aralinth. The wood split along the tunnels within the massive trunk to let sunlight into the paths. There were no doors in the palace, but wider and taller splits in the grain that led to different rooms. I pressed my fingers to one and it snapped shut, leaving nothing but a thin seam of wood where the opening had been.
I raised a brow at the magic and pressed my hands to the seam again. It opened once more to display a small sitting room filled with books. I had not noticed the rooms the last time I searched through the palace. They had all been shut to keep an outsider from breaching their walls.
But I wasn’t an outsider any longer.
I ran down the hall, listening for voices I couldn’t find. I crossed over to a second hall and found a large room at the end of it decoratedwith weapons I had never seen before. Shields made of ice that did not melt. Arrows made of flowing water that held their shape, reflecting the warm light from the large faelight in the middle of the ceiling.
But that was not what drew me into the room. In the middle of the wall was a long sword. Or what once had been a sword. Now it was a collection of tiny fragments, too many to count, arranged in the shape of a long blade. Each piece of metal glowed and matched the lines of gold pressed into the white marble handle.
It was the most beautiful weapon I had ever seen.
“Faelin’s sword,” Syrra said, appearing beside me without a sound. “The only blood-bound weapon still known to us. Though obviously fractured beyond use.”
“Faelin …” I recognized the name from one of Darythir’s stories. “The first of the Fae.”
Syrra nodded. “Niinokwenar.”
Fae mother.
I lifted my hand to traced my fingers over the glass protecting the sword. “Was it made gold to match her eyes?”
Syrra shook her head. “Faelin was the last to wield it, but it belonged to the Elves long before her time. It is said it turned gold the day that she cast the spell that made the shadow sun and shattered the day she left this life. It stays here as a reminder of what Faelin did for us, how she and her kin vanquished thewaateyshirfor good.”
I shivered, remembering the shadow creatures Lash had painted with his flames and smoke. They had been the adversaries of the Elverin for eons. I drummed my fingers along the glass and felt something pulsing from the sword through it. “It has magic.” My eyes went wide with wonder.
Syrra smiled. “A mighty weapon for only the mightiest of warriors. Perhaps one day we will learn how to forge such blades again.”
She placed a hand on my shoulder and gestured to the hall. “Everyone is waiting.”
I nodded and followed her into what appeared to be the center of Sil’abar herself. I could hear the hum of voices from behind the sealed doors, more than the group I’d sailed here with.
Syrra lifted her hand to the trunk and the wood split open.
There were dozens of Elverin inside. Each one fell silent and lowered their head as we walked into the circular room.
Feron sat at the center with Darythir and Lash beside him. Syrra took a seat in one of the empty chairs and I realized what was happening.
A council had been called.
Feron raised his hand and every pair of eyes fell to him. “Keera, welcome.” I glanced around the room and saw other purple eyes mixed in with faces I recognized—Nikolai and Pirmiith, Gerarda and Elaran, and Fyrel and Myrrah too. I looked behind them and saw they weren’t the only ones from the Order in the room.
“I called a council after receiving reports of Halflings being—”
