Page 145 of Blood of Ancients

It answered the question of Elayina’s age, which I had heard was in the thousand-year range, yet could never firmly believe because it seemed too ridiculous—even for elves, who lived much longer than humans.

The ancient seer gave me a sad nod, leaning forward tiredly on her cane. “I should have perished long ago. As you know, dark magic kept me alive, as well as imprisoned in Midgard.”

She continued walking, creeping along through the palace, and I followed her like an eager pup.

“I was their firstborn daughter. It is why I am given respect here, because I am the last living remnant of that time. Syndriel was my younger sister, and Vamys my youngest brother.” She glanced at me over her fur-lined shoulder. “I know from watching your memories that you have done research on your origins, child, and have come up short.”

I nodded profusely.

“Syndriel, the middle child of Dannon’s and Amisara’s ill-begotten flock, is the ancestor through which your elven blood flows.”

“Which makes you my . . .”

“Great aunt, child, roughly fifty generations back. Yes.”

I choked back a sound, utterly shocked at this revelation. Elayina said it so simply, despite my hours and days and weeks of torturous research to uncover what I had about my family. If what she was saying was true, then what had been written in the records tomes—the meager, humble, court-adjacent origins of my family on my mother’s side, filled with generations of abuse, humiliation, and inquisitions—was a lie.

But then Elayina twisted it again, showing me the research wasnotuntrue. I had just misconstrued it.

“Though your elven blood comes from Syndriel, it was passed down, eventually, through yourmalelineage. Your father’s side.”

I let out a deep breath, feeling more grounded when she explained that simple fact. Then another alarming thought came to me and I blurted out, “Do you know who my father is, Lady Elayina?”

She shook her head. “I do not. I have an ideawhathe is, however.”

I reeled, confused. “What does that mean?”

“I will explain. Come. I would like to take you somewhere.”

She led us deeper into the heart of the palace, away from the interior halls that lined the fringes of the high castle. My mind spun as we walked through rooms, going over everything I’d learned but not thought about in months.

Elayina is my great aunt. She’s one of the original three half-elves from Dannon and Amisara. One of the tiny whelps I saw in my memories when she touched my forehead—a young half-elf girl running around Dannon’s castle, drawing suspicious eyes from King Dannon’s courtiers.

She hasn’t explained my connection to her sister Syndriel, yet. How does she know this half-elven sister of hers—who is long dead—is the progenitor of my line?

I felt I was finally getting closer to an unmistakable truth. Something I could bring back to my mother Lindi, share with her, and ease her mind and pain.

If only I could find out just how deep and treacherous my bloodline really went.

Somehow, Elayina is telling me I am related both to elvenandhuman royalty. On both sides—King Dannon as a distant forebear, a grandfather, and Queen Amisara as a distant ancestor on the elvish side, a grandmother.

Right? Is that what she’s saying?

I needed more answers. I also knew Lady Elayina spoke at her own pace, giving answers when she felt they were worthwhile. I couldn’t press her, because it would only provokethe anger and riddles I had become so accustomed to when speaking with her.

Right now, information was flowing. I needed to keep the levee open and allow it to flow.

We stopped at a simple door, less ornate than many others we’d passed. It certainly led to no throne room or place of importance.

Elayina made a vague gesture with her hands when we stopped, as if Shaping a rune in the sky. I knew elves did not use runeshaping like humans did.

Looking behind me, my mates trailed nearby. Keeping their distance, respectful, though they shared worried looks in their eyes when they saw the trepidation and confusion on mine.

“This next part of the story is a bit convoluted, lass, but it’s the only way I know to tell it,” Elayina said.

I was all ears again, nodding, leaning forward to listen to her raspy voice.

“According to Midgard’s tomes, King Dannon was afflicted by an illness and died mysteriously years after he betrayed Lord Talasin. Yes?”

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