Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [232]
She looked up then, the beauty of her face astonishing even in that crisis; from her violet eyes a few tears spilled. Despite his anger at her absence, despite the warnings of his sister’s bones, Kieri felt pity for her, an immortal humbling herself before him. She too was a ruler; she was his elder in all things; whatever she had done, it was wrong for her to kneel like that. “Rise,” he said. She stood, graceful as ever, but her shoulders drooped just a little, like a scolded child’s.
She ignored, or did not see, the dragon still clear to Kieri’s eyes in the road. Kieri glanced at the dragon—that eye of flame seemed to mock him—or the Lady. Confusion held him for a moment—what did she mean? He looked from her to the other elves and back at her—at the other elves—before speaking again.
“You know best how to help the taig, which sorely needs your aid,” he said. “But I don’t understand why you didn’t come before.” All the times before, he meant.
“I went beyond the taig’s reach, and was trapped there,” the Lady said. “I was wrong to do so.” Was it really contrition in her voice, or a glamour? He wanted to believe her, but could such pride as he had seen her display before ever be truly humbled? “I would be there yet, ignorant of this attack, and helpless, if not for your betrothed.”
“My betrothed—”
“Unless you regret your choice,” Arian said, stepping out from between other elves. “For my flight that day—”
At the sight of her, Kieri forgot his concerns about the Lady. “Never,” he said. “I regret only the hours we were not together. When I saw your arrows—I thought you had died—” His voice caught; he did not know which of them had moved, but she stood near enough now he caught the scent of her hair.
“When the taig woke me, that night in Dorrin Verrakai’s steading—” Arian began.
“You went to Dorrin?”
“Time passes,” said the dragon. “And enemies are not far to seek. I have business with them, but you, Sinyi and Sorrow-King and Half-Song, have work to do as well.” It lifted Arian’s bow with its tongue and handed it to her. “You left this behind in the elfane valley.”
“Thank you,” Arian said. “Do you need me?”
“No, Half-Song. He does—” The dragon flicked its tongue toward Kieri.
“Lord dragon,” the Lady said with another bow. She sounded more like her former self, regal and gracious. “Forgive me that I did not see you—”
The dragon cocked its head. “Seeing is not of the eyes only, Lady, as you surely know.”
An expression touched the Lady’s face that Kieri did not recognize. “Lord dragon, I accept your judgment.”
The dragon huffed out a small breath with a hint of sulfur. “I have given no judgment yet, Lady, for the deeds are not yet completed. Have you healed your quarrel with the rockbrothers?”
“Not fully, but I renounce any claim to the rock-mass, as Arian said I must. For the rest, I will meet with dasksinyi when this crisis is over.”
“Excellent. May you prosper, then, as Sinyi should prosper, in harmony and grace.” The dragon vanished; a swirl of ash blew over them all and then settled.
“My lord king,” the Lady said, “you have labored long on a task not entirely yours. I am here now, and many others: let us lift the burden, at least for a night and a day. Rest yourself, you and your betrothed.”
Only elvenhome light gave guidance now, for dark had come, and Kieri could feel the taig reacting to something he thought might be invading troops. But now the Lady spread out her power, reaching to the edge of the forest, and the elves with her joined their power to hers.
“You can see and feel our work,” the Lady said, when he hesitated. “Trust me now: I promise, when you are rested and seek me again, I will come to you, or bring you to me, as the taig needs and the Singer commands.” She looked earnest enough; the other elves nodded. Could he really trust her, changeable as she was? Orlith nodded at him from behind the Lady’s back, and he trusted Orlith now as much as he did any elf.
He had frightened