The elven king, Ryaenon, was as beautiful as she remembered. And as intimidating.

She knelt in the throne room before the dais where the king sat in his intricately carved wooden chair. Farron was beside her, his body as rigid as stone, avoiding the king’s gaze as much as he could. Ryaenon hadn’t uttered a word since they had entered the room, but his piercing gaze said everything.

Two guards flanked him, armed and armored, accompanied by the elder elf from the last time who had read from the ancient scroll. A few more elves were scattered around the room, including the dark-haired elf that had confronted them in the forest. It was dim, the only light coming from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a few lanterns dotting the walls. Back when Claire had first seen it, she thought it was the grandest place she’d ever laid eyes on. Now, it seemed almost quaint.

Silence hung in the air for a while, so much so that Claire shifted slightly, uncomfortable. She could only imagine what they must be thinking, seeing her and the traitor again. And that they had come back of their own free will. She’d be baffled and suspicious, too.

Finally, the king spoke in his flowing tongue. Farron tensed next to her for a moment before rising to his feet. Claire looked up at him, questioning, but he held a hand up for her to stay. His jaw clenched, his shoulders squared, and an obstinate air surrounded him, his icy mask slipping into place. If he was nervous, it didn’t show as he stared down the elven king. He hadn’t lied when he’d said that Ryaenon didn’t scare him. His brother was the king of an entire country. What did this one have? When Claire thought of it that way, he didn’t seem so daunting. He was king of a forest. What power did he really hold? But, that could change if she were able to restore magic to the land. He wasn’t so almighty now, but he soon could be.

Claire remained kneeling for the time being. They still had to be diplomatic. It was his help that they sought. That they needed. These elves held the final piece of the puzzle.

King Ryaenon rose from his throne and descended the few steps, his silk robes brushing along the polished floor. Emeralds sparkled in the low light as he walked, sewn into the deep maroon fabric in a twisting, swirling design. His dark hair hung freely down past his shoulders. He approached Farron, and he was one of the few that was able to meet the tall elf’s gaze.

He spoke a few words before reaching out to touch Farron’s hair hanging over his shoulder, still dyed black, but fading. A gentle movement that didn’t match the malice in his voice.

Claire wished dearly for a translation. She didn’t like being left in the dark.

Farron reached up and snatched the king’s wrist. The guards reached for the swords at their waists and Claire tensed, her breath catching.

“Fare,” she whispered.

Time seemed to stop for several moments. Then the king laughed, a haunting sound that broke the spell. He let Farron’s hair fall from his hand and Farron released him.

The whole room seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

Farron spoke, his voice sharp, his eyes glaring.

The amusement faded from Ryaenon’s face. His gaze shifted over to her and Claire froze, gulping. Farron may not have been afraid of him, but Ryaenon still made her nervous.

Farron spoke and the king listened, surprisingly calm and attentive, and his eyebrow lifted as he looked Claire over.

King Ryaenon motioned for Claire to stand. She did a little too quickly. She needed to relax. She’d faced much greater foes than this. He said a few words and Farron translated.

“He wants to see it,” Farron said, looking at her. “The mark.”

Claire looked between him and the king and cast a quick glance around the room at the others. All eyes were on her, bringing up unpleasant memories of the last time she had been in this room. She sighed and stripped the jacket off to reveal the wild dark lines and the silver contraption. At least this time she wasn’t being held by a strange, perverted elf.

Ryaenon’s eyebrows rose slightly as his eyes traced down her arm. He reached out and touched her, his fingers light on her skin as they trailed along the mark, pausing before the scar. He whispered something.

Claire looked at Farron.

“He asked what happened,” he said.

“How much time does he have?”

Farron muttered a translation to the king and Ryaenon’s lips twitched.

Had he almost smiled? He didn’t exactly strike her as the humorous type.

The king took her wrist in his hand and lifted her arm up to inspect the damage more closely. His other hand hovered over one of the silver bands as he spoke.

“Where did you find this?” Farron translated, but instead of waiting for her to answer, he did it for her.

Surprise crossed the king’s face. He gave Farron a considering look and spoke again.

“He thought these were lost after the Great War,” Farron said. “He finds it amusing that a human is wearing one.” Farron listened as the king spoke more before continuing. “They used to put these on elven dissidents.”

Claire nodded. Of course, they would be made for elves. What better punishment than to strip away their magic, make them closer to being like the humans they so despised?

“He asks why you wear it,” Farron continued. Only this time, he waited for her to answer, a quiet warning in his eyes.

“So I can hide,” she said. He was right. She shouldn’t be telling the king about her condition. They couldn’t appear weak.

Farron translated and when Ryaenon gave him a questioning look, Farron went on. Claire trusted that he wouldn’t reveal too much, but she still wished she knew what he was saying.

Ryaenon’s face grew serious as he muttered a few words.

Farron paused before telling Claire what he had said. “There are more.” He nodded and they both looked at Claire. The king spoke again. “He thought Aeron was lying.”

Aeron had met Lianna, but even he had no clue that there were even more Star Children. Claire may have been their little hope, but she was not their only one. And she wasn’t sure if that weakened their stance or not.

The king released her arm and stood for a moment, looking down at her before turning to Farron, his expression hardening. He spoke and the beautiful words had a sharp edge to them.

“He asks why we have come,” Farron said, looking at her.

Claire nodded at him. It would be faster if he just told the king himself.

And so he did. Claire tried to look as confident as she could while she listened, but she couldn’t totally hide the worry growing inside of her. She couldn’t tamp down the feelings of betrayal, guilt. Was it too late to change her mind? Did she want to? She glanced around at the elves in the room once again. They’re attention was focused on what Farron was saying. Not that she could blame them. Their lives were so secluded, sheltered. Just like she had been for most of her life. What Farron was saying, it was like he was opening the door to the birdcage, to their freedom.

Silence fell over the room when Farron stopped. Then all eyes were on her again.

Ryaenon’s laugh pierced the air, though it wasn’t exactly happy. When it died down he spoke, a grin curling the corner of his mouth, a devious spark in his dark eyes.

Farron frowned and said, “He finds it funny that even though I betrayed him, I ended up completing the mission anyway.”

“Well, he may have a point,” she said.

Farron, however, didn’t find it as amusing. His frown only deepened.

The king spoke again, squaring his shoulders as he looked between them.

“After everything, you come to ask me for a favor?” Farron translated.

That irked Claire and she had to bite her tongue to keep from shouting. She didn’t need to make an enemy of yet another king—well, any more so. That had probably happened when she decided to steal away with the General. From the start, she had been their prisoner, and that was only after Farron had spared her life that night in the forest. It had never been her choice to go on their mission so they could use her. Their little hope. The ego of a king was truly astonishing.

“I believe that our offer will be beneficial to us both,” Claire said, trying her best to hide the anger within. She wondered if it would have been easier to just sneak in and take the piece of tablet that they needed. But then they still needed it to be translated. Surely there were other ancient elves still alive somewhere?

The king narrowed his eyes as he listened to Farron and spoke.

“What makes you think you’re in a position to bargain?” Farron translated, his body tensing. His face remained neutral, but Claire could see the gears turning in his head. He didn’t like to be threatened, not even by a king. His eyes quickly darted around the room, assessing, but he made no other move.

Claire took a deep breath. They couldn’t appear weak. So, being either brave or immensely foolish, she said, “What makes you believe you are?”

Farron looked at her for a moment, eyebrow cocked.

She nodded and he sighed before delivering her words.

The guards reached for their swords again, the dark-haired elf from the forest drawing his bow and arrow. The king just looked at them, fire in his eyes. He probably wasn’t used to being challenged. Well, there was a first time for everything.

Claire’s pulse sped up. It was probably foolish to threaten a room full of elves, but she was tired of feeling powerless when it was just the opposite. They needed her as much, or more, than she needed them.

The dark-haired elf and the guards trained their focus on Farron, but he only grinned and held up his hands.

“I’m not the one you should be afraid of,” Farron said.

Confusion twisted their faces momentarily before their attention turned to her. Claire tried to look as intimidating as possible, straightening her back, lifting her chin, but wasn’t so sure she was succeeding. But there was a way. She held her hand out, palm up, and focused on the magic in the pendant. A blue orb formed, drawing gasps from a few elves.

“We didn’t come here to fight,” Claire said, Farron relaying the words, “but we will if we have to.”

The king raised his eyebrows as he studied her, his face hard to read. Then he held his hand out to his guards and they eased back, the dark-haired elf following suit, though not looking happy about it.

Claire let the blue orb dissipate and relief filled her. She really didn’t want things to escalate. She’d like to think that they stood a chance against the elves, but she really didn’t know if they did. Not in the state they were currently in. But they didn’t have to know that.

“Now,” she said, “are we ready to talk?”

King Ryaenon smiled and spoke, spreading his arms out.

“Our Yaederrí, we would be honored to serve you,” Farron said, though he couldn’t replicate the darkness in the king’s voice.

Claire may not have been able to understand the king’s words, but she knew a snake when she saw one.

 

All five stone fragments sat on a table in front of her, assembled for the first time since the magic had disappeared. Claire ran her fingers lightly across them, her magic stirring inside of her, the bands growing warm. There was a sort of resonance that hadn’t been there before, the power that emanated from them different, more powerful, in sync, as if they knew they were together once again. Silly, she knew, but then again, most of what had happened to her would have seemed absurd a few years ago.

After speaking to the king for what seemed like hours, and then the ancient elf, her and Farron were led through the labyrinth of the palace to a room deep underground filled with artifacts and scrolls and other treasures from the past. It was only a small sampling of the riches the elves had once had. Claire had never seen so much gold and silver and precious gems in one place. With such riches, it was a mystery why they had stayed hidden for so long. They could have bought the power that they desired. But she supposed that not even money could span the gorge of hatred they had carved between elves and humans. And she didn’t think that King Ryaenon desired peace with humans so much as he desired conquering them once again.

The last stone fragment had been hidden away in an unremarkable chest deep in the vault for years, valued only by the ancient elf until Claire had shown up in the forest. The elder lit up when he discovered that Claire and Farron had the other pieces.

“You can decipher it?” Claire said, her eyes tracing the strange letters on the fragment in the warm lamplight.

Farron stood close behind her and spoke the words to the elder who was setting an armful of scrolls down on the table.

The elf nodded a little too vigorously, his dull blue eyes displaying the excitement of a child. He muttered something in his cracked voice as he leaned over the stones.

“He’s a little rusty,” Farron said. “It might take a little while to get the full translation.”

Claire nodded. It wasn’t like they had many other options.

Farron touched her shoulder. “We should get some rest,” he said softly.

She peered up at him and his eyes urged her not to argue, so she didn’t. He said something to the old elf, but the elf only nodded and waved a hand absently, already lost in his studies.

Claire took Farron’s hand as he led her back through the dim halls. She didn’t feel entirely safe in the forest palace. They had no friends here, no allies. Not even Aeron could be fully trusted. And she wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t try for Farron’s life. She wanted to keep him close, just in case.

“Do you trust him?” she asked when they were far enough away from the treasure room.

Farron shook his head. “But what choice do we have?” He slowed his pace a little and lowered his voice. “Our goals are the same,” he said, “for now. Ryaenon is so intent on restoring elves to their former glory that he will try anything, even work with a human.” He squeezed her hand. “And a traitor. As long as we are instrumental in that goal, we should be safe. We just need to be a little more, let’s say, diplomatic, in the future.” He gave her a pointed look.

“I am very diplomatic,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not my fault that kings have oversized egos.”

“Surely no match for your stubbornness,” he said, “but let’s not threaten the king again while still under his roof. No matter how satisfying it is.”

“All right,” Claire said. She had gotten pleasure in seeing King Ryaenon back down from her. It made her feel truly powerful, something that she would relish. Even with her powers, there weren’t many times when she really felt like that. It was exciting and invigorating, addicting. Now she knew where Lianna and Razi got their confidence from. “So,” she said, changing the subject, “where did you use to stay?”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I hardly doubt you want to stay the night in the guard quarters.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “I was hoping to see if they had another, less arrogant elf I could trade you for.”

He frowned. “Perhaps,” he said, “but they wouldn’t be as charming. You’re stuck with me, Claire, whether you like it or not. But I highly suspect that you do.” He leaned down close to her and jabbed a finger into her chest, his grin returning full force.

She sighed, dramatically. “Unfortunately, I do.”

“Besides,” he said, straightening, “I’m better looking than any of those fools.”

Claire rolled her eyes as he pulled her along again, though she found it hard to argue the point, no matter how conceited it was.

 

The room hadn’t changed one bit since the last time she’d seen it. And she knew every little detail after being kept inside it for what seemed like weeks. Only this time, the doors weren’t locked and there was no guard stationed right outside. They were guests, so far, and she hoped that it would stay that way.

Farron surveyed the room, slowly walking around it, inspecting everything. “It’s truly awful,” he said, nodding. “I can see why you would want to run away.”

“Try being locked up inside with nothing to do for days on end and then see where your sanity leads you,” she said, going through their packs to make sure nothing was missing.

All of their things that had been confiscated were already waiting in the room, along with food and a pitcher of wine, and a few fresh changes of clothes. She’d missed her elven made shirt and looked forward to having another; the fabric and fit were truly exceptional. And though she appreciated the treatment, she was wary of it.

Farron opened the double doors leading out to the balcony that hung over the cliff and she turned away. She still didn’t appreciate the view.

“I suppose this escape is out,” he teased. He closed the doors again.

“I’m glad you are amused by my past predicament.” She stuffed everything back in the packs. Nothing seemed to be missing.

“It’s better than the guard quarters,” he said, coming up to inspect his weapons for the third time. “But a prison is a prison.”

“Besides, did you see the attendants?” she asked, remembering the stern elves that avoided her gaze at all costs.

“How could I not?” he said. “I believe I was on the receiving end of their glares on more than one occasion.”

“Which I'm sure you deserved,” she said, smiling.

“Well,” he said, “I told you I am charming, didn’t I?”

Claire laughed and appreciated the levity. And even though she wasn’t too excited to see her old room again, it was pure luxury after being on the road for weeks. She couldn’t wait to take a bath. Rest on an actual bed. Eat warm food served on a plate. One last indulgence before what might be the end.