Page 77 of An Honored Vow

My mouth went dry as Darythir continued. “To make it clear, we do not make these decisions lightly”—she glanced at me—“the first candidate to be selected is one of the Elders.” Darythir bowed her head, and Myrrah thrust herself forward from their line. The crowd clapped and nodded in approval at the first choice.

Gerarda straightened her back beside me, her hands twisting into knots behind it.

But Darythir did not name her. “The second candidate we have selected is Elaran.”

Darythir waved her hand in our direction. Elaran squeezed Gerarda’s shoulder before stepping apart from the crowd. She lifted a hand to her face and then her chest before kneeling in front of the Elders.

“I am honored to be chosen,” she said in her raspy tone. “I will not disappoint.”

Gerarda’s teeth gritted together as she lifted her chin. I could see the worry creeping along the corners of her eyes. Concern for her lover and concern for herself—there were only two nominations left.

Darythir took a deep breath before continuing. “The third candidate was not selected for her prowess with a blade but her sharp witand dedication to the Elverin within theFaelinthand outside of it.” She paused and smiled at someone in the front row. “Dynara.”

I gasped along with the crowd as Dynara stepped forward. She was wearing a long gown cinched at the waist by a bodice made of pearls. But her face was stern, determined as she bowed to the Elders and accepted her post. “Thank you for granting me this honor.”

My chest heated. Dynara had not said anything about her decision to add her name to the list of volunteers. And I had jumped at the opportunity to ignore it, knowing I would say the wrong thing and foolishly believing the Elders would never choose her as a candidate.

Gerarda’s fist pulsed beside me in sets of four. She only let herself inhale after one set, pulsing again before finally exhaling. A breathing tactic we had been taught at the Order.

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. There was no one else they would nominate. Her spot had always been secure.

Darythir met my gaze before glancing at the short, determined Halfling beside me. “The final nomination,” she signed with shaking hands, “was long discussed but the decision was ultimately unanimous.”

My shoulders relaxed, and I patted Gerarda on the back.

“The Elders have selected Fyrel.”

Gwyn jumped up onto Fyrel’s back with excitement and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The young Halfling stumbled backward, dazed, as the crowd erupted into applause. Gwyn let her go and claim her place in front of the Elders, but I didn’t hear a word she said to them. All I saw was Gerarda’s black cloak disappearing through the crowd without a sound.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

FERON KNEW ENOUGH TO GET MEin a room far away from the others. He sealed the doorway with a single touch, the live wood snapping together, sealing me in with him and the rest of the Elders.

I turned to Syrra and Myrrah. “You put the life of a child on the line before a seasoned warrior?”

Syrra’s arms crossed, strong and tight like a shield held between me and them. “You said you would respect the council’s decision. You made this request of us.”

I gritted my teeth. “Had I known you would send a girl of barely seventeen to the front lines, perhaps I would not have made such a foolish choice.” My breath seared my nostrils. I turned to Myrrah. “Have you not sent enough children to their deaths? You need to send one more?”

Feron raised his hand and the floor underneath me popped upward, knocking me to the ground. “That is enough.” His eyes glowed bright lilac, boring down on me like sails on a ship, anchoring me through the swells of my rage. “We weighed this decision fordays, Keera, and none of us are strangers to the plights of war. Our concerns were greater than just the battles to come.”

Darythir signed something with one hand, slow enough for me to make some sense of it.

“Gerarda is a brilliant soldier,” I spat. “She would have made a fearsome Fae.”

Darythir shook her head, her hands waving at her sides, wordless.

“She would have been a powerful weapon.” Syrra kneeled in front of me. “But we interviewed each candidate thoroughly. Do you know what Gerarda said when we asked how she envisioned her life as a Faeafterthe battle was won?”

I leaned back against the wall and shrugged. Gerarda’s mind had always been a mystery to me. One she revealed slowly and at her leisure.

Syrra swallowed as the scars of branches along her shoulders tensed, the leaves almost fluttering. “She said she could not conceive of a life after the war. That her only focus was defeating the Crown.”

I lifted my chin. “I wouldn’t have expected any less from her.”

Myrrah pushed her chair beside Syrra. “Aemon forged us into weapons with no regard for who we would be when his battles were won. With no care if we rusted, if we dented, if we were left discarded on the field of battle. All he wanted was us to be sharp and at the ready. How could I ever agree to change someone in such a powerful way—much more powerful than anything Aemon could have devised—when all she can comprehend herself to be is a dagger.What if theaftercomes and she realizes that she made a rash choice? A choice she regrets and cannot take back?”

I slumped into a chair, the hold of Feron’s stare loosening as my rage faded into the grief. The grief I had for my past and Gerarda’s too.

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