Page 68 of Fate of Echoes and Embers
Adren shrugged. “Maybe they thought they could get out alive. More likely, they knew it was their last mission. Balthor can be persuasive, and ruthless, but sacrificing his own men is callous, even for him.” Adren grimaced, shaking his head. “Hate has consumed him.”
“Hate for humans,” I said, disgusted. “For my kind.”
Adren turned to me. I looked into his eyes, seeing none of the anger Gyorians so often harbored for us.
“I do not hate you, or your people, Lady Isolde.”
I had not realized my tone was so bitter. “You are an exception.”
“I’m not as rare among Gyorians as you might think,” he said. “There are others like me.”
There was something about the way Adren was looking at me that felt… odd. Marek seemed to pick up on it too.
“Adren?” he asked. “You are among friends.”
Adren drained his mug, sat back, and crossed his tree trunks of arms.
“Not just friends,” he said, looking pointedly at me, “but relatives.”
26
MAREK
“Another, please?” I ordered a mug of mead, my instincts telling me I would need one. “Three, actually,” I added, seeing Issa’s expression.
Unless I was mistaken, Adren had directed that comment toward her.
“Pardon me?” she asked, the epitome of politeness.
I was more direct.
“What in the tides are you talking about, Adren?”
He pressed his finger to his lips, nodding to the serving girl who was already on her way back to us. “Thank you,” he said as the mead was delivered. Issa didn’t seem pleased, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. The heavily spiced drink took some getting accustomed to.
“Have you heard of Lady Evelyne Hawthorne?” Adren asked Issa.
“No, I haven’t.”
“She was a noblewoman of Hawthorne Manor, trained in diplomacy and healing and known for her intelligence and unwavering sense of duty.”
“I know my family lineage.” Issa seemed puzzled. “How is her name not familiar to me?”
Adren took a swing of his mead and settled in to share his tale. “She was also known for her curiosity with Gyorians. This was well before the Gate had closed, but even then, as you know, there were tensions between our two clans.”
“Which began when King Galfrid opened it in the first place,” I said.
“Aye,” he agreed. “With permission from the other clans. Permission, we now know, that included the use of their most revered artifacts.”
“A recent revelation.” I glanced around to be certain we could not be overheard, but all looked to be Gyorian. There were few places private enough to escape Aetherian whispers.
“Mmm.” Adren’s grunt sounded familiar. It was a sound Kael often made. “Against her family’s wishes,” he continued, “Evelyne fell in love with a Gyorian warrior, a warden of the borderlands. Their relationship was seen as a betrayal of humanity, and when she became pregnant, she was given a choice: abandon the child or be exiled. She chose exile.”
A shiver ran up my spine, the story beginning to make sense. I watched Issa for a hint of understanding but she was concentrating on Adren’s next words.
“Evelyne was taken in by her lover’s people, though many never truly accepted her. She became a healer, learning to use earth-based remedies and magic. She raised her son among these warriors, ensuring he was strong, disciplined, and prepared for a world that would never fully accept him.”
“How could I not know this?” Issa whispered.
