ground and simply growl.
For his reaction, he received nothing but a look of contempt from the newcomer, who then, with a much more polite manner, turned to the banquet’s hosts and bowed.
“High Priestess Tyrande. Archdruid Malfurion. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Varian Wrynn calmly remarked.
11
DARKENED HEARTS
“Never—never have I nor any of my warriors acted so basely!” Genn declared, visibly struggling with himself. “The bravery of Gilneas—”
“‘Bravery’?” Varian Wrynn cut in. Tall, commanding, his features handsome in a brooding manner, the king of Stormwind was to his own people already a hero out of legend. He had, in point of fact, lived a remarkable and dangerous life that had not only for years separated him from those he most loved, but also left him for a time bereft of his memory. His trials made for rousing tales that bards could sing before swooning ladies. And his two long scars, one running across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and the other descending down the left side of his face from the forehead to the cheek—both legacies of the several times he had barely escaped death—only added more flavor to those stories . . . stories for which Varian himself had no taste whatsoever. “The definition must be different in Gilneas from what it is in most other lands . . . the very opposite, I’d say.”
The insinuation that Genn and his people were utter cowards proved too much for the elder monarch. His expression darkened. Some of those in his retinue growled low and seemed ready to move toward Varian, but Genn staved off their advance with a sharp glance.
Malfurion moved to intervene. “King Varian! We had no news of you and your retinue arriving below. . . .”
“I preferred it that way,” the former gladiator answered, acting now as if Genn did not even exist. Varian shoved aside an unruly lock of dark brown hair. The eyes of a hunter surveyed each and every person in sight, Varian Wrynn ever instinctively marking those around him by their potential threat.
The archdruid purposely stood between the pair. “And your son? Is Anduin with you?”
“Naturally.” Varian said it with such an absolute tone that Malfurion felt slightly foolish for asking, though many monarchs would have left their only heirs in the supposed safety of home rather than bring them on any sort of journey.
The king briefly tilted his head back. The night elf looked beyond Varian to where four members of the king’s personal guard flanked a slightly shorter figure dressed in the regal blue and gold of Stormwind. Prince Anduin, his own blond hair cut short, bowed his head to the archdruid. He wore a high-collared shirt covered by mail that was in turn draped by the golden lion head crest of his kingdom. The prince was not armed save for a dagger at his belt, but with so many guards in Stormwind’s party, his safety would have been ensured in almost any place, much less Darnassus.
In contrast to his father, who was every bit the fighter, Anduin was a studious youth. Moreover, there was an aura of selflessness that reminded Malfurion of only one other person present. Without thinking, Malfurion glanced over his shoulder at Velen.
To his surprise, the Prophet’s eyes registered the same intense interest in the human boy. Velen sensed exactly what Malfurion did . . . perhaps more.
Genn was taking long, deep breaths that were designed to bring his temper back under control. Varian looked unimpressed by the other king’s efforts.
The archdruid continued to try to defuse the tension between them. “King Varian. Forgive us for not being there to greet you! You, your son, and your companions are welcome to join the banquet immediately if you wish! Your seats await you, and food and drink will be shortly coming—”
“I’m not inclined to stay here,” the monarch of Stormwind bluntly replied. “I sailed to Darnassus for the sake of the Alliance, not him.” He indicated Genn. “If it’s all the same to you, Archdruid, the journey was a tiring one, so I think I’ll retire already. . . .”
Genn moved toward his counterpart again. In a lower tone he said, “Varian . . . let us talk. I did what I thought was best for my people; you must understand that! I never realized the full folly of my arrogance when I chose to build the wall and what it would mean, cutting off Gilneas from the outside. . . .”
Varian’s gaze never left