Page 71 of The Rowan's Stone
“What took you so lon—” Theron stops talking when he sees me in the purple dress, the one I wore the first time he and I went to Witchwood.
Daire glides over and picks up my hand. “Stunning,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on my palm. He walks over to the portal and goes through, with Astor following him.
“Where’s Valerian?” I ask Theron, who’s staring at me intensely.
“The dark Elven king isn’t a fan, so Valerian left to check on his kingdom, but he’ll be back later today.” Theron’s voice is hoarse when he answers. “Goddess, what I wouldn’t give to sweep you away right now.” He rubs his thumb over my puffy lips.
Licking my lips in anticipation, I assure him, “Soon.”
* * *
Arrivingat the current dark Elven king’s castle, I find it light and airy, its architecture modern, and the furnishings luxurious. It’s the antithesis of what I expected. We’re greeted immediately by the queen herself. Unfortunately, the king is away right now.
Bending my knees in a curtsy, I let Theron introduce me to the beautiful, petite woman. With dark brown hair and gorgeous green eyes, she’s the epitome of Elven royalty. He introduces me as his friend and explains we’re researching a project together, but his stance and the hand on my back tells her I’m under his protection.
“A mysterious dark Elven woman under your protection?” Her voice is dry and amused, and she waves a hand to a nearby servant. “Would you like some refreshments?”
Knowing it’s impolite to refuse, we accept and sit down across from her. Theron and she engage in the usual small talk, while I skim the room. There are several portraits on the walls, but it’s the stunning woman with the green eyes and black hair that catches my eyes.
The queen follows my gaze and smiles. “She’s my sister,” she explains.
I feel Theron stiffen beside me. “She’s stunning. Are you close?”
Daire coughs, and I glance over at him. He shakes his head.
“Please don’t,” the queen implores him. “It’s refreshing to run into someone who isn’t aware of the story.” She turns to face the painting. “We were only a couple of years apart and very close, so we did everything together. Until she was murdered.”
Startled, I raise a hand to my chest, now understanding why Theron and Daire tried to warn me. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” she murmurs. “She had an affair with the light Elven king, and he quickly became obsessed with her. Even though they weren’t mates, she became pregnant, and a son was born. When she couldn’t stand his behavior anymore, she broke it off, but it did no good. He continued to hound her night and day. She wanted nothing more to do with him, but they shared a son, and she wanted him to know his father. One day, she took their son, Fallon, and went to meet him. We found her remains a couple of days later.” Her voice breaks as she remembers that day. “And we never saw Fallon again.”
Shocked, I realize she’s speaking about Fallon’s mother, and I compare it to the version Fallon told me. “Fallon thinks you murdered his mother. He’s filled with hatred because of it.” Theron and Daire are restless as they watch this unfold, while Astor is his usual enigmatic self.
Outraged, she stands and walks over to the painting. Her voice is raw as she points to the painting and screams, “Never! I could never hurt her. I swear this on my life. I loved her more than anyone else in this world.” She paces back and forth. “I can’t believe he thinkswemurdered her.” She mutters a few words about the light Elven king. “Do you think Fallon would come talk to me?”
Theron speaks up quickly. “I’ll send him a message and let him know what you said. Beyond that, I can’t guarantee he’ll visit.”
She clasps her hands together and pleads with him. “Please, I’ll owe you a great favor.” She looks sadly up at the painting. “I’ve been racked with guilt all these years because I let that bastard take her child, but I couldn’t do anything without causing a war. To hear he thinks we killed her? I can’t let it stand. I won’t.”
Slumping into her chair, she waves a servant over and commands him to take us to the library. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling quite worn out,” she says softly.
We follow the servant out of the room, but when I glance back, she’s staring sadly at the painting of her sister. She looks devastated.
“The archivist is not here right now,” the servant tells us. “But all of the old king’s archives are in this room.” He opens a small door in the middle of two shelves. “If you don’t find what you’re searching for, please leave a note for the archivist on the desk over there and he’ll address it when he returns.” He gives us a short bow and walks out.
For the next couple of hours, we search through the old steward’s ledgers, but in every instance, the blacksmith’s name is blank. I drop my head in my hands. “It’s not here.” Agreeing with me, they begin to put the books back on the shelves. “What do you think I should leave in the message?
“Keep it simple. Explain we’re searching for ledgers with information on servants who worked on the grounds of the castle—stable hands, blacksmiths, and such,” Daire suggests.
After writing the letter, I drop it on the desk.
42
ARDEN
Two days later, we get a message from the archivist. He’s returned from his travels and can help us find what we need. Thankfully, I’ve had time to purchase another dress, a dark red fitted sheath with black accents, which I pair with the black heels.
Astor gives me a long look when he sees the dress. “Mmm, I love this color on you. You look positively sinful, and it makes me want to devour you.”
