Page 9 of Silverbow
“We have something of our own Sana Silverbow around here.”
If Enya had a godsung gift at all, she would have wished for whatever talent would allow her to disappear on the spot.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be well looked after.” He gestured to the peaks that rose above the treetops. “Plenty of grass in the passes. Come back in a few years, and perhaps she’ll have a filly or colt on the ground for you then.”
Aiden perked up some at that and gave the mare a final pat. Andril started making polite farewells, but he froze when his silver haired companion spoke. “Is that your gift, then?”
His companions’ eyes snapped to her. Both Marwar and her father moved to place themselves between her and the visitors. Enya eyed them all warily.
“My daughter cannot wield,” her father said softly, his hand now resting on his sword hilt. The visitors made no move toward theirs.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Enya stared up at him. “I’m good with a bow, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Just a father’s boating,” her father said quickly.
“It’s not.”
“How would you know?” Enya asked defiantly, glad her voice did not betray the somersaults her stomach was turning under the intensity of his stare.
“I can hear it,” the silver haired man said.
Andril’s brow furrowed and he studied Enya thoughtfully. Aiden cocked his head as if straining to hear something, but he shrugged. The dark eyed man only kept scowling.
“It is not illegal to possess an archer’s gift,” Marwar growled.
“No, but your king does love to hoard his treasures.” Enya swallowed. “We’re heading east, if you want an escort to sanctuary.”
A look passed between her father and his Master of Arms. Sanctuary was only granted to the gifted, and to seek sanctuary would be to doom the rest of her family. She was on the point of objecting, but Marwar growled, “What’s your name?”
His eyes slid to the vow mark etched on Marwar’s hand. “What’s yours?”
Andril cleared his throat. “What my companion means is-”
Enya wouldn’t learn what the silver haired man meant, for her father took a step closer to the warhorse and declared, “My daughter is safe here, though we appreciate your offer.”
A muscle ticked in the man’s jaw, but he gave a shrug and turned toward the gate. His companions followed, their looks ranging from bewildered to apologetic as some silent conversation passed between them.
Enya stood behind her father and Marwar, watching the party retreat to the Queen’s Road.He could hear it? What was that supposed to mean?
“Curious,” her father mused when they turned to the east.
“What is?” Enya asked, her heart still stuttering erratically.
“What four demi-elves are doing in Westforks.”
She blinked at their retreating backs, eyes wide. “You’re certain?”
It was Marwar who confirmed, finally taking his hand from his hilt after they disappeared from view.
“How do you know?”
“It’s the way they move,” her father said. “And that silver hair is not unusual amongst the elves.”
He cut her a sidelong look that said he knew she was not just gawking at the horse, and she fiddled with her gloves to avoid meeting his gaze. She was glad Liam hadn’t seen it, or she’d never live it down. Liam would, however, be inconsolablewhen he realized he’d been set to mending fences while men of legend stood in the yard.
With the northern elves cloistered behind their enchanted border in Oyamor, and Eastwood centuries gone, their kind was little more than myth in Estryia. The intermingling of blood that gave rise to the demi-elves was long lost to history, and few still roamed the continent, doomed to never quite fit amongst elves or men. If it were not for the sprouting of elven wielding gifts along the branches of mortal family trees, most wouldn’t have believed such unions had ever existed.
