general nodded approvingly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “They begged me to let them clean up the throne room. I thought it a good idea.”
Irene suddenly fell to her knees. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” Tears ran down her face. “I know some peo-people died.” She leaned over, sobbing on the floor. “I didn’t want to hurt the animals. I didn’t want to hurt the sailors.”
Leo’s heart squeezed in his chest. This sixteen-year-old girl would have to live with a terrible burden for the rest of her life. In reality, she was another victim of the Chameleon’s bid for power. “Were you ordered to do it?”
She nodded, still sobbing. Next to her, Farah started to cry silently.
“Was there ever a time when you didn’t follow orders?” Leo asked.
Farah nodded. “If we disobeyed Kendric or Alfred, we had to stand outside in the rain all night. On the posts along the pier.”
Leo winced. If they fell off, they would land in the water.
Irene sniffled. “And we were locked in the dungeon for three days with no food.”
Leo exchanged a look with General Harden. If the Chameleon or Alfred came back to life, he’d kill them all over again.
He squatted on the floor in front of the girls. “You’ve been through some horrific ordeals. I know you will be struggling with some guilt, but I’m telling you now that we do not blame you. We will never blame you. We consider you victims, just as much as the children who lived in the village. Do you understand?”
The girls nodded.
“All right, then.” General Harden clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work.”
“Aye, General.” The girls rushed off. Irene began sweeping up glass by the windows, while Farah took her baskets to the broken glass on the dais.
Leo hefted himself to his feet. “General, could you have some servants take bread and water to the seamen outside?”
“Aye, will do.” He motioned to his men to take care of it, and they rushed off.
Leo lowered his voice. “How is Brody doing?”
General Harden sighed. “Nevis says he’s in pain and distraught.”
“And Maeve?” Leo asked.
“Yes,” Sorcha said as she strode into the room. “How is Maeve?”
General Harden shrugged. “The last I heard she was unconscious in her room.”
“Unconscious?” Sorcha asked, her eyes widening with concern.
“I believe the shock may have been too much for her,” Leo murmured.
Sorcha huffed. “That doesn’t sound like Maeve. She’s tougher than that.” She tilted her head to look at the two girls who were cleaning. “Who are they?”
“Farah and Irene,” the general replied.
Sorcha’s brows rose. “Farah’s the one with fire power?”
Leo nodded. “She’s the one by the dais.”
“Interesting.” Sorcha walked over to the dais, where Farah was rummaging through the broken glass and filling different baskets. “Ye’re sorting the glass by color? Why?”
Farah looked up at her, then bowed her head. “I can melt these to make new ornaments.”
Sorcha gasped. “Ye use yer fire power to make glass?”
Farah nodded. “I made all the glass art here.” She blinked away tears. “The queen blew it up.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sorcha kneeled down and picked up a piece of glass with different shades of green and gold running through it. “This is beautiful. I would have loved to have seen what it originally looked like.”
Farah gave her a shy look. “I have a few finished pieces in my workroom.”
“Wonderful!” Sorcha dropped the green glass into the correct basket. “I’d love to see them. And I want to see how ye do it.”
“Like this.” Farah snapped her fingers and a flame appeared.
Sorcha grinned. “I know how to do that much. It’s the glass part I don’t understand.”
“You . . . you know how . . . ?”
Sorcha nodded. “I do it the same way.” She snapped her fingers to make a flame.
Farah gasped.
Sorcha smiled at her. “I always thought I was alone, but here ye are.”
“Who . . . may I ask who you are?”
“Sorcha, princess of Norveshka and queen of Woodwyn.”
Farah’s mouth fell open.
“I’m an artist, too,” Sorcha added. “But my talent lies with drawing and painting.”
Farah continued to gape at her.
“Ye wouldn’t believe the beautiful craftsmanship in Woodwyn. We have the most fabulous wood carvers and silversmiths. The elves would love to see yer glass art.”
Farah swallowed hard. “That’s all I ever wanted to be. A glass artist.”
Sorcha smiled at her. “Then that is what ye will be. I think we could become good friends, don’t you?”
Farah nodded.
Sorcha rose to her feet, then went to talk to