Page 163 of Silverbow
“Stillwater,” Oryn answered tightly. “Pleased to see you’re still in residence.”
The elf huffed and Enya wasn’t sure if it was at the hint of sarcasm in Oryn’s voice or because he remained in residence. “Like father, like son.”
One of the demi-elves behind her snarled.
The golden haired elven woman swept forward with a soft smile. “As this appears to be a job for only one of us, Othalas, and the gnomes all but dragged me here, why don’t you return to your courtly duties? I’ll see to the lady.”
Behind her, Liam muttered something about gnomes.
The elven woman planted a kiss on each of Oryn’s cheeks. Enya shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling awkward and clumsy in her ethereal presence.
“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Alloroalla.”
She gave a shallow curtsy. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Alsbet turned to Colm. “I sent Wigrett to ready the house.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“I need to visit my vault before we dine,” Oryn said, indicating the bags.
“What can be so important it cannot wait until after a good meal?” Alsbet huffed.
Oryn nodded to the palace. “Let us speak in private.”
The dwarf princess eyed Enya and the healer. “You can use my private audience chamber. We’ll wait for you in Leon’s.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Alloralla said. “This way, Lady Ryerson.”
Enya didn’t allow herself a look back at the others as she followed the woman up the steps. Massive double doors opened into a cavernous hall around them. A forest of thick columns spanned high overhead, holding up crisscrossed arches in the ceiling. At the far end of the room, a pair of gilded thrones sat atop a dais. Alloralla glided around them on silent feet to twin doors obscured at their backs. Enya gaped at the thrones, wondering if they were solid gold, as Alloralla pulled one open, waving her inside.
The princess’s private audience chamber was a plush, cozy room with overstuffed furniture. A living wall of tangled green vines stood behind an intricately carved rosewood desk. A harp stood sentry in the corner. Enya eyed the door that adjoined the next room.
“Sit anywhere you like,” Alloralla said, softly closing the door behind them.
Enya perched on the edge of a green velvet sofa, all too aware of her clothes that did not belong on such furniture.
“May I ask what your gift is?”
She looked at the elven woman with surprise. “You can hear it too?”
“Hear it? No, child,” Alloralla said gently. “I only guessed. The prince is known to collect precious things, though he usually deposits them in the Vale.”
“I’m good with a bow,” Enya said sheepishly.
“Ah, a rare gift,” she mused. “Wonderful. And resonates with the prince’s, hmm? If he can hear it?”
“Something like that.”
She tapped a long, delicate finger to her lips. “Curious. Perhaps some connection with Mosphaera. I shall think on it.” She waved a long slender hand to Enya’s arm, still bound in its makeshift sling. “What was it, then?”
“A crossbow,” she answered.
Alloralla’s beautiful face crinkled. “How long?”
“Two weeks or so.”
“May I?” She asked.
