Page 71 of An Honored Vow

Riven raised a hand to silence the barrage of questions. “For those of you old enough to remember her, my mother was a gifted healer and a form shifter. She passed one of those gifts on to me. Her son. The prince.”

Jaws fell one by one as the Elverin began to comprehend the ruse. “I was born Killian son of Aemon and Laethellia. I was not born a Halfling, but a Mortal with red blood to prove it true. But as I grew older, my magic grew stronger until eventually I transformed into my other form. Not an owl like my mother, but a Fae. A shadow wielder. From that day forward, I was both Riven the Fae and Killian the prince. Vrail took on the task of pretending to be me when my father sent me away to the tutors of Volcar, while Feron trained me and my powers in Vellinth. After a decade, he thought me fit enough to join the Elverin and I met all of you.”

Feron stepped forward, his cane creaking against a rock in the soil. His lids were heavy and his eyes more sunken as he told the crowd what he had done. The memories he had placed in their minds. The lies he and Riven had spun together.

By the time he was done, thick tears had carved rivers down his cheeks and the crowd was silent.

“Why did you lie to us?” Uldrath asked in the innocent tone only a child could master.

Riven cleared his throat. “Because I wanted to keep you safe.” His voice cracked. “And I’m sorry I didn’t.” He stalked through the crowd, passing Gerarda and me.

I followed him out to the edge of the city. “Where are you going?”

Riven froze, hearing the desperation in my voice. He walked back and grabbed my hand. “I’m not leaving you,diizra.” He presseda kiss to my forehead. “I’m not even leaving the city. I just need an hour alone to let this settle.” He held up his hand, which was shaking uncontrollably.

There was pain and regret in his eyes, but not deception. He wasn’t running away again without saying a word. He wasn’t leaving with no message for when he would return. Even though I could tell that is what he wanted more than anything else, he was staying.

He was trying.

All he needed was some time, and I could give him that. I dropped his hand. “Thank you for telling me,” I said, and he walked into the Dark Wood without his secret.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

RHEIH AND FERON HAD SPENTthe night assessing Gwyn, Vrail, and Crison to make their report to the rest of the council. Thankfully, none showed any signs of pain, but they still needed to learn how to control their new gifts. Or discover them.

My muscles ached from lack of sleep, but the meeting couldn’t wait. Not even for Syrra, who refused to leave Nikolai’s side, or Riven, who was secretly making sure all of Nikolai’s wishes for his mother’s funeral were getting done.

Darythir already sat in the room, with a deep frown that made it obvious she was angry. No, furious. Her eyes narrowed as I entered the room and she stopped signing. My status as a Faemother was something not even the eldest of the Elverin were quick to forget.

Feron walked into the room with Myrrah, the two chatting as if they hadn’t been up all night too: Feron in the infirmary with me and Myrrah at watch, looking for signs ofshirakin the skies.

She gave me a small smile before locking her chair next to the ornately carved table. “What is this about, Keera? I want to be asleep by midday.”

I cleared my throat and told her that Darythir was concerned about me changing the two newest Fae. “They should have been dead but instead they’re Fae?” Myrrah deadpanned. “I don’t understand the problem. You should be kicking your heels but you look like you’re preparing for a funeral.”

I scoffed. “I only delayed their deaths. If we go to war with new, unpracticed magic wielders, who do you think will be the first ones Damien strikes down? They won’t last an hour.”

Myrrah shrugged. “They may choose not to fight.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Then they practice.” She slapped her hand on the table. “Starting today.”

Feron nodded. “We have already had a few sessions. They haven’t mastered their gifts yet. It could become dangerous very quickly.”

Darythir signed something too fast for me to catch. There was a dramatic flair in her wrist as her hands finally came to rest.

Feron interpreted for her. “She says that it would help if they were given warning instead of suddenly transforming from Halfling to Fae.”

I threw my cloak onto the chair, pacing behind it. If I sat down, I would fall asleep in the middle of our meeting, and we would really get nowhere. “Do you think I meant to? I can’t control it.”

Feron’s brows wrinkled. “But your control has been masterful since you became theniinokwenar. You work your earth wielding as well as I do.”

I doubted that was true. “The other gifts are fine. I always feel in control. But this”—I lifted my hands and stared at them like they held some secret they refused to tell me—“this is different. It’s like being on the brink of burnout, but there’s no pain, just this surge of magic I can’t hold back.”

Gerarda flipped a blade through her fingers. “Both times it’s happened you’ve been scared shitless. Not for you but for the ones you changed. The night you turned Gwyn, you thought she was going to get hurt when you lost control of your magic, and you thought the latest to change were about to die.”

Elaran perched on Gerarda’s armrest. “Why would that matter?”

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