CHAPTER 25

THE sun was high in the sky when Gabrielle stepped uncertainly out of her little cottage, wondering what to do next. She felt worlds better, almost her old self, better enough to feel curious about her new surroundings. The war against the Greffaires and its burden of death seemed far away.

Eleara waited for her outside, ready to be her guide. Slipping her small hand into Gabrielle’s, she led her along the winding pathways to an open-air shelter where many Elves were gathered. It was Gabrielle’s first clear sight of a group of Elves, and they were a marvel to her—so many fair, smooth faces, sparkling eyes, graceful gestures. She could think of only one Human comparison: a troupe of dancers she had seen in Blanchette, reportedly from the Tarzine lands across the Gray Sea. The women and men alike had moved with the sinewy grace of cats, heads held proudly on necks that seemed longer and straighter than any in the audience.

As they drew near, Gabrielle saw that a meal was laid out—late breakfast? Early luncheon? Whatever it was, she was famished again. Eleara led her to the buffet and waited while Gabrielle filled her plate. Today she felt more confident, her royal training returning to her, and she met the eyes of the Elves she encountered, murmuring greetings and thank-yous, smiling and shaking her head when they tried to converse further, Eleara jumping in to explain her muteness. She followed Eleara to a table where Danaïs, Celani and Féolan were just finishing their meal, aware of the surprised eyes that followed her progress.

“I guess we don’t have to ask if you slept well,” teased Danaïs. Féolan reached up and twined his fingers in the hair that spilled down her back, gently pulling her onto the seat beside him. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. Gabrielle was dismayed to feel herself blushing—like a fifteen-year-old caught smooching in a hayrick—and did her best to pretend it hadn’t happened. “I must confess I can remember nothing of the night, not even dreams.”

“So you call this night,” mused Féolan. “Note, Danaïs, the odd ideas these Humans have.”

Gabrielle grinned. So easy and pleasant it was to fall into their old bantering. “Thank-you, gentlemen, I do feel the better for it.”

“You smell the better too, I must say,” said Danaïs. “Doesn’t she, Eleara?”

Eleara spoke to her father in Elvish, her manner serious. Danaïs sighed. “Eleara reproves me, Gabrielle. She knows I am teasing even without knowing the words and says it is unkind to make such remarks.”

An Elf with a commanding manner, rather more heavyset than the rest, came over and bent down between Féolan and Danaïs, speaking quietly and rapidly. Féolan seemed both sobered and satisfied by his news. The man straightened, glanced at Gabrielle and offered his palm to her, talking a mile a minute. Gabrielle smiled and returned the gesture, while Féolan came to the rescue: “Gabrielle, this is Haldoryn. He led our raid on the Greffaire camp.”

“Then I owe him my thanks, for myself and for my people. Please tell him that, Féolan.”

Haldoryn looked momentarily nonplussed, but he smiled and bowed. Then clapping Féolan on the shoulder and speaking briefly once more, he strode away.

“Why do they do that?” Gabrielle demanded.

“Do what?” asked Danaïs.

“Everyone seems to assume I speak Elvish. Do they suppose that Humans, who have not even laid eyes upon them for so many years, all study their language just in case?”

She had meant it to be humorous, but Féolan gave a frustrated laugh that seemed almost angry.

“They don’t realize you’re Human, Gabrielle, not at first. You should look in a glass sometime. When I saw you dressed as one of us, it seemed as though ... “ His voice trailed away.

Gabrielle was startled. “Are you saying I look Elvish?”

Féolan turned to Danaïs. “Am I wrong?”

Danaïs smiled at Gabrielle. “I mistook you for an Elf the first time I laid eyes on you. Of course, I was not my usual perceptive self at the time. But in those clothes, I think you will have to display your ears if you wish to be recognized as Human.”

Gabrielle let her fingers glide over the remarkable softness of her new clothes. I had never felt anything so soft as the shawl you were wrapped in. Solange’s words leaped into her head, bringing with them a thought so heady it left her weak. A foolish thought, no doubt, mere running after rainbows, yet she could not seem to thrust it away. Her very skin tingled with it.

Féolan touched her hand, reclaiming her attention. “Haldoryn had news. While we were away, the Council decided to join our forces with yours. I didn’t expect it of them. Apparently the plan is to close in behind the Gref Orisé when they make their advance, so they will be beset from two sides.”

Féolan would go, of course. He could hardly stay behind after his big speech to Council. Gabrielle stared at her plate. She thought of Tristan and Féolan on the same battlefield. Two she loved. Two more she might lose. And Tristan, she realized with a stab of regret, would be mourning his father and sister both right now, even as he prepared for battle.

“Gabrielle?” Féolan had more to tell her. “The Council of Elders wants to speak with both of us this evening.”

“Me?” she squeaked. “They want to speak to me?”

“More precisely, I expect they want you to speak to them,” Danaïs corrected, amused at her discomfiture.

“But why?”

“Well,” said Féolan. “They want me because I know the most about the Gref Orisé, I expect. And you certainly know the most about the Human forces.”

Gabrielle doubted she knew anything of much use about the Human forces. She remembered how Féolan had addressed the Verdeau Council, and realized how challenging that must have been. Now she was the closest thing to a foreign ambassador Verdeau had. She would do her best.

GABRIELLE AND FÉOLAN SAT on a rock ledge overlooking a waterfall, snatching a brief interlude alone. They had followed an almost invisible trail to get there, Gabrielle trying to imitate Féolan’s way of gliding silently through the dense foliage. Now they sat in the sun, watching the light sparkle through the spray.

“I’m so relieved to see you looking better,” confessed Féolan. “I thought you would be several days in bed, maybe seeing our healers.”

“It seems like the very air of this place makes me better,” mused Gabrielle.

“And how are you liking ‘this place,’ anyway?” asked Féolan. “I know it is not exactly what you are used to.”

“It’s wonderful,” said Gabrielle. “I love the way you live. Though my mind is whirling with questions.”

“Name some, and I will answer if I can.”

Gabrielle thought. Where to start? “Well, do you have a king or queen, or how are you governed?”

“We have no royal family,” answered Féolan. “Not here in the Basin, anyway. They say there were Elf-kings and Elf-queens in Elvenhome.”

“Elvenhome?”

“Where we came from, far over the ocean. No one now knows where.” Féolan paused, as if seeking in his mind for that faraway land.

“So now,” he said, coming out of his reverie. “Each settlement has a Council, and there is a greater Council of Elders for matters concerning all the Elves. When a councilor wishes to end his or her duty, the Council picks a successor. Or they may ask someone to serve temporarily, if their skills are needed.” He laughed. “If they needed an expert on Humans, for example, they could ask me.”

“Why do you laugh?”

“Oh, I have already shown myself this year too reckless by far to serve on Council. But in any case, I would be considered a little young.”

“Well, and there’s another question,” said Gabrielle. “How old are you, anyway?”

“I will be eighty-two this summer.”

“Oh.” Gabrielle was deflated. “I thought you were about my age.”

“I am about your age,” he smiled. “For your information, I am just nicely into my full adulthood.”

“Then how old is Danaïs?”

“Danaïs has just passed his first century. Last year, in fact.”

“Does no one ever look older?” she demanded. There was something so upsetting about this. An image flashed in her mind: Solange at eighty, old and bent.

“Danaïs does not look older because he is still young,” Féolan said gently. “But we do show age. It is subtle, in the eyes, mostly. Kinder than for Humans.”

Gabrielle wasn’t ready to face this square on. She changed the topic. “Your ears. Are there other physical differences, from Humans I mean?”

“Now that I wouldn’t know,” he teased. “You’re the one who sees naked bodies, not me.”

“Hmmm, point granted.”

“Some say that in the long-ago our ears were bigger and more dramatically pointed, that they are shrinking in this new land. But then,” he laughed, “they also say we were immortal.”

“Immortal?” Gabrielle was shocked. “Do you believe it?”

Féolan became serious. “I look around, Gabrielle, and I see that no creature, from the greatest tree to the tiniest midge, lives forever. No, I do not believe it. Perhaps in Elvenhome we did live longer. But forever? No.”

Their mood had turned somber. The war stretched its long fingers once more over Gabrielle’s heart. “You have to go soon, don’t you?” she said.

Féolan nodded, pulled her close. “First thing tomorrow,” he said. “The delay caused by your work with Col’s son brought unforeseen hope to the Basin. But time has run out. We must move quickly, or it will be too late.” They sat without speaking for a long time. How strange, Gabrielle thought, that her presence at the battle had, after all, made a difference, though not in the way she had wished. She remembered how courageous she had been about the war—before she lived in its shadow. Now she knew too much. This time, she would obey her father’s wishes and stay behind.

She felt Féolan take a breath before speaking. “There is one thing I would ask you before I leave.” Oh, she knew what was coming, yearned for and dreaded it.

“You turned away my love once,” said Féolan. “But fate has brought us together again, and I must grasp at this second chance. Gabrielle, my love for you will not waver, whatever the future holds. Will you not be my betrothed and join your life to mine?”

Gabrielle had had no time to mull over the thought that had shaken her so at the mid-day meal. She longed to share it with Féolan now, but hesitated. To raise false hopes could prove even more cruel than hard reality. It was the worst, not the best, he must be willing to face with her. She squared her shoulders and turned to him.

“Féolan, if we pledge our troth, it must be in willingness to accept the future as well as the present. It will be a bitter cup at the end.” Féolan nodded, his eyes never wavering from hers. Gabrielle lifted her hand to his cheek. “I could not leave you again. If you will have me for my life’s short season, then I will be yours.”