Page 229 of Of Empires and Dust

“Calen Bryer’s.”

“Good. And so I command you to step aside, lest your honour be called into question.”

The guard straightened at that, his eyes widening. “That won’t be necessary, Narvír.”

“Your honour will be noted. Du haryn myia vrai.” Gaeleron inclined his head towards the passage, gesturing for Ella to follow him.

“Din vrai é atuya sin’vala. Aiar gryr haydria til myia elwyn.”

“What did he say?” Ella whispered, following Gaeleron past the other guards, who watched closely.

“I thanked him, and he appreciated the thanks. I do not like lying, Ella Bryer.”

“And yet you did it anyway.”

Gaeleron only grunted. He led Ella through a long stone corridor illuminated by thick beeswax candles in sconces. She would have known that faint, sweet scent anywhere. To travellers passing through The Glade, Lasch Havel’s beeswax candles smelled of nothing, which in and of itself was a special thing when set next to tallow candles. But Ella had lived around those candles all her life, and they had been her light on many a dark night.

Gaeleron stopped at the end of the corridor, where it intersected another that moved in both directions in a circular pattern, arched windows looking into an enormous courtyard.

A dragon lay curled in the central yard, the light of the sun and the moon spilling in through the open roof and glinting offits scales. The only word Ella could use to describe the creature was ‘beautiful’. Its body was a work of art, like a living flower, scales of purple and white that reminded her of the Gloxinia flowers that grew along the road from The Glade to Milltown.

An elf with pale skin and dark hair leaned against the dragon’s hind leg, unconscious, her chest rising and falling slowly.

Memories of the battle flickered on her mind.

“Why are they kept here?” Ella whispered. “They saved Calen, risked their lives. I saw them.”

“She is of the Dragonguard.” Gaeleron tilted his head to the right, watching the sleeping woman. “Tivar Savinír. She was once of my people, the elves of Lunithír. But she and Avandeer betrayed The Order.”

“And then she came back.”

“If only the world were that simple.”

“If only.” Ella allowed her gaze to linger on Tivar and Avandeer for a moment longer. Whatever they were, she had them to thank for Calen still drawing breath. “Where is he?”

Gaeleron’s expression grew grim, and he gestured for Ella to follow.

“Ella Bryer. Something told me we would cross paths again.”

Ella spun on her heels at the sound of Ilyain’s voice. The elf stood beneath the arch of a passageway in the rock, his usually shaved scalp now showing short black stubble. Even staring into those milky eyes, Ella had always found it hard to think Ilyain was blind. Nothing ever got past him.

Ella darted across the corridor and, much to Ilyain’s surprise, wrapped her arms around him.

The elf simply rested a hand on Ella’s back, gentle and reassuring. “It is pleasing to see you well. I had heard what happened and feared for the worst.”

Ella pulled away, scrunching her fingers against her palms. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what came over me.”

“Do not apologise, Ella. The simple comfort of a warm embrace is not something I have come by often these past centuries. And depending on the outcome of this place, it may be the last time.”

Ella hugged Ilyain again, receiving a startled ‘oomph’ for her troubles. “It won’t be.”

She had grown fond of the elf over their journey from the North to Aravell. It had been Ilyain’s openness to discuss his Ayar Elwyn’s life that had saved Ella’s, his teachings of Níthianelle and of everything Andras had told him of the druids that had kept her grounded when she would have panicked. Ilyain may not have known it, but he had saved her life.

“You are here for Farda.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You will find him in his quarters.”

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