Page 73 of An Honored Vow

Feron’s lips curled into a small smile. “I am always delighted to have an excuse to visit my nephew. I shall ask him this afternoon.”

My chest heaved with relief. I had been willing to do it, but if Feron wanted to try I wouldn’t stop him. Maybe he would succeed where I had all but failed.

Feron stood. “Then it is settled.”

Darythir waved her hand, stopping him. She turned to me, asking her question by hand while Feron provided it by tongue.

“I understand not wanting to carry that decision on your own, but why not claim your spot on the council? It is your seat to take.” She waved her arm in the direction of the empty chair beside Feron.

My cheeks went hot, tugging on my throat until the words came out heavy and wet. “My expertise is on the battlefield. Doing the best for our people is yours.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

IFOUND VRAIL IN THE LIBRARYthough it didn’t seem to spark the same vibrance in her it once had. She sat surrounded by piles of unshelved books and scrolls. They didn’t notice me enter the room—Gwyn’s nose was an inch from the page at the end of the table. She whispered to herself as she read, purposely ignoring me while Vrail’s gaze was locked on the wall, staring at nothing.

“Any luck?” I waved my hand in front of Vrail’s face. I had asked her to find me as many sources as she could about Faelin and her defeat of theshirak. Vrail had started researching it the night of the first attack, but she could barely stay focused enough to read.

Her head jerked up, and her newly amber eyes focused on me. “Yes!” She jumped and cleared her throat. “I just need to find where I put it.”

“I have one,” Gwyn interjected from the end of the table. She pulled a brown leather-bound book from the small stack beside her and lifted it for me to take.

Her arms shielded the page she was reading, but I recognized the book as the one Vrail had stolen from the libraries of Koratha. The book full of runes.

My eyes narrowed. “What are you reading?”

Gwyn snapped the book shut, but not before I caught a glimpse of the illustration of several corpses underneath a vicious-looking rune. “I want to know as many runes as I can. Feron says it’s the best way to hone my gift.” She fluttered her glowing fingertips.

“There are many ways to sharpen a blade, Gwyn.” I reached for the book. “But not all of them are safe.”

She pinned the cover to her chest and leaned back. “It’s just a book, Keera.”

I could tell from her flushed cheeks that she was keeping something from me, but Vrail had taken the other tome from Gwyn and opened it to an illustration of a Fae with voluminous, tight coils and welcoming golden eyes.

“That’s the book that Kil—Riven gave me when I first went to Aralinth.” My finger dragged over the illustration. “I never ended up finishing it.”

Vrail nodded. “Riven does love his books.” She flipped the page and there was a small sketch of awaateyshircoiling around a giant Elder birch. Its talons had scorched the trunk, and two bodies hung limply from its sharp, shadowy beak.

“Not much is known about the defeat of thewaateyshirak.” Vrail pursed her lips. “So many of our story holders were lost during Aemon’s siege, and he destroyed much of what had been written down. But this story outlines the basic elements. The Elves took care of Elverath for millennia, letting its magic flourish and grow.But they could not defeat theshirakon their own, too many of their warriors were lost in their attempts. Finally, they prayed and danced to Elverath herself, hoping for something that would help turn the tide in their favor. And the great Elder birch of Aralinth sprouted from their dancing grounds and five moons later, Faelin emerged from it. She was born from Sil’abar, as the firstniinokwenar”—Vrail’s eyes shifted to me—“and protector of our people from their greatest enemy.”

“Thewaateyshirak,” Gwyn said, her voice full of awe.

Vrail nodded.

I tilted my head, still studying the illustration. Faelin was standing in front of the beast with a sword, no trace of her gifts being used at all. “She killed them with her magic?”

Vrail shrugged. “That much isn’t clear. She studied atNiikir’nafor many years and eventually was chosen as the wielder of one of the blood-bound blades. It is said that it turned gold the day she slew the firstwaateyshirwith it.”

“But we already knew that blood-bound blades could hurt them,” I said with a sideways look at Gwyn.

Vrail turned the page and there was another illustration, but this time of a giant nest. Two eggs, as black as night, were tucked into the twisted branches as awaateyshirflew over the forest in the distance.

Vrail’s finger swiped over the page and the egg moved.

Gwyn shrieked. “What was that?”

“Vrail, your hands.” I pointed to her fingertips. They were completely dark, as if stained by ink.

The egg moved again, and this time the entire image came to life. It sprung from the page, ink leaking into the air until a moving painting formed. The shadowy beast screeched in the background, while figures of Elves surrounded the nest right next to us.

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