Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,70
from Grayson? “From whom?”
“The king.” His answer strikes fear in my heart, and I work to keep my expression blank as I wait to hear the message. “He wants you to return to Arhaven.”
“Did you sleep at all?” Vida chides as she runs her gaze over me.
Groaning, I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying in vain to push back the weariness that torments me. The answer is no, or at least it feels that way. After Grayson’s revelation, we returned to our respective groups to arrange a meeting. The tribes agreed to a conference almost immediately. The wood elves and sea elves were wary but decided to trust my judgement. If I thought they would be safe, they would go and hear what the magicians had to say. As I suspected, it was the high elves who were causing problems.
It was already late when I returned, and Eldrin had been pacing the treeline. As soon as he saw me, he was at my side, running his eyes over me, and I saw the moment he smelled Grayson on me with his enhanced fae senses. It was a good thing Grayson didn’t come back with me, because I think Eldrin would have tried to kill him, if his snarls were anything to go by. After that, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight, fighting me at every turn as I tried to organise the meeting with the high mages. Thankfully, Vaeril and Naril helped calm him down, taking him into the woods, and I was eventually able to crawl into my tent with Tor. It was a fitful sleep, and what sleep I did get was plagued with dreams of forsaken and the King of Arhaven, who laughed as he watched me crawling through puddles of blood to get to my dying mother.
“I’m fine,” I reply with a tight smile. Looking around at the group, I can’t help but feel a wave of anxiety.
The only way the mages would agree to meet with the elves was if one elf from each group attended the meeting. Speaker Hawthorn from the wood elves and Speaker Beck from the sea elves stand together, speaking in quiet voices. Beck is tall, broad shouldered, and blue skinned like all sea elves, with webbed fingers and toes, but he’s adorned with shells on his pointed ears and around his neck. His simple shift-like clothing is beaded and also covered in shells. I met him briefly before, and like the sea elves I’ve encountered previously, he seemed soft spoken and kind. Vaeril stands near them, but instead of taking part in the conversation, he’s watching me. It was agreed that, as my mate, he was the best option for the high elf representative. My aunt, as high chief, and the other eleven chiefs are here, and it was agreed that Vida, as one of the tribes’ religious advisers, could attend. There is much the magicians don’t know about the tribes, so this meeting is important if we are all to work together.
“Do you think this is going to work?” I keep my voice low, not wanting the others to overhear. We’re just waiting for the mages to arrive now, and I find the steady, no-nonsense attitude of Vida calming, so I’ve been waiting with her.
Laughing under her breath, she looks at me from the corner of her eye. “Yes, have faith, beloved.”
I groan at her use of the endearment. She’s obviously heard the elves call me that and decided to adopt the term. “You too?” She grins at me and shrugs, but I can’t help but smile, my mood lifting slightly.
The atmosphere shifts, and as I look up, I see four high mages have entered the clearing. Logs have been put out in a circular formation for us to use as benches, yet I get the feeling no one will sit. Entering the space, the mages come to a stop with Grayson in the center, his eyes immediately seeking me out.
“Greetings. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Grayson calls, pulling his gaze from me and making an effort to look at each of the representatives as he speaks. “My name is High Mage Grayson.” He turns and gestures to the three mages behind him. Merrin, the oldest of the three, is standing the closest to him and has aged a lot since I last saw him. His hair is almost completely white now. His face still looks kind, and of the