Page 19 of The Serpent’s Shadow

I glanced over at her with a nod.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Alfheim, of course,lunis’ai.”

A flash of disappointment crossed her face as her eyes cast downward, though I tried to ignore it.

“Why do you continue to call her that?” Deitryce interjected again. “It is dishonorable.”

I stared across at my sister.

Ravinica said, “What does it mean? No one has told me.”

“It translates to ‘streaked silver’ in your tongue,” Deitryce answered. “A term of endearment.”

I caught Ravinica’s eyes, a new note of respect and admiration in them. She tried to hide her smile, and the slight flush of her pale cheeks, but I was observant enough to know when she felt touched.

I cleared my throat, wanting to seem proper and diligent, rather than desirous and flustered by Ravinica’s golden gaze.

I said, “Ask your questions, Ravinica.”

The three elders remained quiet, watching us while they finished their meals. They would continue to stay silent until I told them to speak, because that was our way. Their advice was only uttered when it was sought after. They were more ceremonial than anything else.

Whether it was wrong or right, I was the leader of this vanguard unit from Alfheim.

“How did you get here?” Ravinica began.

I rested my palms on the knees of my crossed legs, sitting straight-backed. Turning my head to face her, I mulled that over and tried to put it into terms she would understand.

“A portal,” I said. “Similar to the portals you use to summon runes to Shape from different realms. Only bigger.”

Ravinica nodded, her brow furrowed. “I thought King Dannon and Lord Talasin blocked the portals from Alfheim to Midgard, and vice versa. So neither race could travel to the others’ homeland.”

At mention of the supposed “King Who Saw,” who we rather thought of as the King-Who-Misconstrued-and-Destroyed, Deitryce hissed.

Ravinica did not know it was ill-advised and discourteous to mention Dannon in an elven council chamber.

“Your histories are incorrect,” I told her. “The portal-blocking was a one-way ward. Our ancestors cast it to keep humans out of Alfheim. Humans did not possess the power to keep elves out of Midgard.”

Ravinica’s eyes widened. “Really? Damn. All these years I thought . . .” She trailed off and arched her brow. “Then why are the elves only herenow? Nearly a thousand years later?”

I shrugged simply. “It has always been possible for elves to reach Midgard, though in the past it was more difficult, and we had no reason to. We saw no point in injecting ourselves in human conflicts, when we have plenty of our own in Alfheim. Humans put up some weak defensive enchantments to keep our people out, and there was a small risk of getting lost forever in the Traveler Planes.

“Now, however, the flimsy wards of the runeshaping humans have weakened. We do not know why. Along with that, we have stopped caring about the dangers, because we learned of . . . her existence.”

“Careful, brother,” Deitryce said in a low tone. “You say too much. Do not spill what you cannot put back into the bucket.”

I understood my sister’s meaning. I wasn’t about to give Ravinica our deepest secrets—the meanings of our prophecies and the underlying reasons for our arrival. But I could certainly give her enough to satiate her curiosity with a harmless history lesson.

“Her?” Ravinica asked.

“The Ancient One. Kin locked away in Midgard for hundreds of years. The Ljosalfar only recently learned she still remains in this realm. We’re unsure if she’s alive or dead.”

Ravinica sat up, shoulders stiffening, as if she had heard this part of the story before.

“Lunis’ai?” I asked. “What is it?”

“I met someone recently. You said the person you’re looking for is an elf?”

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