Page 87 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“Since when do the elves use human labor?” Tharan asked.

“They are cheaper and more obedient than the sylph,” Arendir said, holding up a silver chalice for the servant. “Pity they only live a few dozen decades.”

“Yes, that is the flaw of a mortal life,” Tharan said, sniffing his wine.

“A toast,” Arendir raised his chalice, and the rest of the table followed, “to my grandson, Tharan Greenblade, Lord of the Wild Courts and king of the Alders.”

“Hear, hear!” the table proclaimed. Tharan gazed at the elves’ long, elegant faces, all of them strangers. All of them possible enemies. Did they know his mother? Did they advise him on how best to punish her for the crime of loving someone she shouldn’t?

“Thank you, King Arendir. You are a gracious host.”

The ancient king nodded.

“It has been too long. I should have sought you out sooner. Perhaps old age is making me soft.”

Or perhaps you want the power of the Alder King in your arsenal.

“Yes, well, I’ve come here to discuss a matter of great importance.”

“Oh?” Arendir arched a brow. Servants laid silver platters of exotic fruits and cheeses on the table. The king reached for something green with black seeds. “Nothing in the continent happens that I don’t know about. So, I can’t imagine what it is.”

“It’s about the Trinity Wells.”

The king’s face paled, and his expression darkened.

“What could you possibly want with the Trinity Wells?”

“So, you’re saying they exist?”

Arendir raked his eyes over his grandson. “Everyone out. I have much to discuss with my grandson.”

His advisors grumbled but did as they were told. Sumac and Hopper gave Tharan questioning glances, but at his nod, they reluctantly exited with the rest of the advisors.

When they had all gone, Arendir turned to Tharan and said, “Come with me to a more private space so that we may speak freely. Even here, the walls have ears.”

Tharan followed his grandfather up a winding staircase to the top of a spindled tower. The elven Kingdom of Eden stretched out before them. A gleaming white city led to snow-covered fields where grapes and barley would soon bloom. Past that, Tharan could make out the edge of the mighty Atruskan River—a blue sliver in the distance.

“This is quite a view.”

“It is good to see one’s kingdom now and again.” He poured two glasses of amber liquor, handed one to Tharan, then sat in front of a roaring fire. “Now, what’s this about the Trinity Wells?”

Tharan took a seat across from his grandfather.

“King Gideon of the Highland and his mage, Erissa, are looking for them. We don’t know why, but it would be devastating for this kingdom if they fell into their hands. As you are well aware, they attacked my kingdom… and killed my father.”

Arendir held up a hand.

“And in retaliation, you destroyed their kingdom, did you not?”

“Yes, well, that’s very complicated.”

“It is not. An eye for an eye, as the old saying goes.” He gazed into the fire. “I am in a hard spot here. The Highlands have been our allies for hundreds of years?—”

Tharan interrupted before he could go any further, “I know, but with the power of just one Well, they could level this continent. Even you.”

“What use would a human have with such power?” Arendir chuckled.

Tharan smiled to himself.

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