Page 29 of The Sundered Blade

And yet, how could one carry such hope in the face of overwhelming odds? How did one maintain their confidence from day to day?

“How do you know?” she asked curiously. “How do you continue to believe that he will not give up on you? That he will not someday decide that he is finished and has no desire to see you again?”

“I ask myself that from time to time,” Leisa confessed. “And it is not an easy answer. But I have chosen to trust him. To have faith in the strength of his heart and his determination. And I have chosen to fight for him—for his health, for his home, and for his happiness—no matter what the world may throw against us. I believe it will be enough, so long as we are both willing to fight for each other.”

Her tone was fierce. Confident. Unwavering. And at the end of her speech, Senaya rose to her feet.

“I have already agreed to teach you,” she said. “And I will keep that promise. Before we reach Hanselm, I will teach you everything I can, but then I must go. Perhaps you do not believe me, but the longer we are together, the less chance you have of ever returning to the man you love.”

“If that is still your choice,” Leisa returned quietly, “then I have nothing more to say.”

Senaya nodded and walked away from the fire, into the darkness, alone.

CHAPTER9

He’d been pulled through an illusion, Vaniell realized, though not before he let out a rather undignified yelp of dismay. The “rock” was no more than a well-crafted magical curtain disguising a path that led over the ridge and down the slope into a narrow valley beyond.

And as he followed Kyrion and their guide into that valley, Vaniell was startled to find an entire community nestled at its heart—tiny houses, with smoke rising gently from their chimneys, small garden plots, cows staked out to graze, and chickens wandering about pecking at the dirt. A handful of people were out and about, hauling water or wood along the well-worn paths.

Whatever this place was, it was decidedly within the borders of Farhall, and yet, it had clearly been hidden with great care and deliberation. But Kyrion had known where to find it and was quite familiar with its inhabitants, which meant…

“I suggest utilizing your most polite and least sarcastic behavior for as long as we are here,” the night elf suggested, glancing back over his shoulder as they made their way down the slope. “I believe I can prevent them from murdering you, but I guarantee nothing if you choose to forego diplomacy.”

“I’m wounded,” Vaniell murmured, gazing around thoughtfully at the extent of the tiny community. “When have I ever been less than diplomatic?” At Kyrion’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged and grinned a little ruefully. “When I am not at home, that is.”

Their guide threw a curious look his way, but continued to lead them down towards the center of the valley, where they were met by a man and a woman. The man’s arms were crossed and his expression was forbidding, but the woman’s smile held genuine welcome.

“Kyrion ven Athanel. Welcome back. Though I admit I was hoping to see that Leisa was with you. I was looking forward to a long, cozy chat on your next visit.”

And Kyrion, for a change, actually appeared to relax as a small smile crossed his lips. “Yvane, it is good to see you as well. I wish that I had arrived under better circumstances.”

The woman named Yvane scanned him with a clinical gaze as if checking for injuries. She was a small woman, with dark eyes, dusky brown skin, and curling dark hair, and appeared somewhere around middle age, though that could have been anywhere from thirty to forty-five. Despite her size, her air of command was unmistakable, and she seemed utterly unintimidated by her visitors.

“Don’t tell me,” she said dryly. “You ran afoul of those dratted Garimoran scouts and you’re hoping for sanctuary again?”

“How long have they been troubling you?” Kyrion’s tone was sharp, and he turned his gaze to the cliffs surrounding them as if searching for any signs of imminent danger.

“Oh, never fear,” Yvane said cheerfully. “They have not yet detected our presence. But it’s growing harder by the day to evade them. They’ve been lurking about for several months now, ever since the snows receded enough for them to make the journey this deep into the mountains.”

Then her dark eyes shifted to Vaniell and grew deeper, sharper, and far more piercing. “And what sort of human have you brought me this time?”

“The future King of Garimore.” Kyrion’s blunt words startled both YvaneandVaniell into a moment or two of speechlessness.

“A bit premature, wouldn’t you say?” Vaniell muttered out of the corner of his mouth before bowing his head politely.

“My lady Yvane, it is a distinct pleasure to meet you. We are indeed seeking sanctuary after an unfortunate encounter with a pair of wyverns, followed by my countrymen’s regrettable enthusiasm for apprehending us. I would extend my apologies for their behavior, but I fear at this moment I have little power to change it.”

He finished his speech and glanced up, only to be met by startled gazes filled with either speculation or hostility.

“So you’re Vaniell.” Yvane’s voice was flat and unreadable, and the man beside her appeared to be considering the best way to eviscerate their Garimoran guest.

“I am,” Vaniell returned without rancor. “Though I find it curious that you did not assume the future king would be my brother. Have you met Danric?”

“And his wife.” Yvane did not seem inclined to elaborate, but she’d shared a great deal in those three simple words. Most important, perhaps, that she knew significantly more about recent happenings in the world than someone living in this secluded valley ought to know. Unless she had somehow played a vital part in those events.

But if she’d met Danric and Evaraine, it was probably wise to be wary of whatever they might have told her about Vaniell himself. Did he figure in their stories as a shadowy nemesis, an unfortunate necessity, or a distant ally with unknown motivations?

“What I find myself most curious about”—Yvane had turned those piercing eyes on Kyrion—“is how such an unusual pair came to arrive on my doorstep in company with one another.”

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