The Wheel of Kin: A Daughter's Journey

Slipping through my fingers

Moonlight spilled through narrow, dust-streaked windows, painting pale lines across the stone floor. The chamber was cavernous, hollow-sounding, the air dry and echoing with the faint rustle of old cobwebs clinging to the beams. Elara stepped through the portal Lanfear had opened, her booted feet landing softly on the ancient stone. Her breath caught in her throat.

Lanfear, ever calm and poised, turned to her. "Stay close to me," she murmured, voice like silk pulled taut with warning.

Elara nodded once, her jaw tight. She said nothing, her eyes scanning the dimly lit chamber. There were already two figures waiting—men cloaked in shadow and arrogance.

The first was broad-shouldered with a smug smirk and scar across his face. The other, lounged like a predator at rest. But Elara's breath hitched when she recognized the second man.

Rahvin.

The mask was gone, but she'd know that face anywhere. Lord Gaebril.

She instinctively stepped back, her spine stiffening. Her fingers tingled with the True Power, already coiling in warning at her fingertips.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Lanfear said, addressing them both.

"Aye," Sammael rumbled with a grin. "I knew ye would."

"Charming as ever," Rahvin replied, barely sparing Elara a glance.

"You never miss a chance to prattle and prance about," Sammael said, voice thick with disdain.

Lanfear strolled forward, her gaze sliding over Rahvin's neck. "Is that lipstick?" she drawled. "A queen in your bed already, Rahvin? You've only been free a month."

Rahvin smirked. "According to her—and anyone who meets us—we've been hopelessly in love for a decade. When you know, you know."

"You always were an artist with compulsion," Lanfear said, laughter sharp and cold.

They both chuckled.

Elara stood back, still silent. Sammael's gaze flicked toward her, curious and unimpressed.

"She keeps quiet, this one. Bit o' fire in her, though, I'll give ye that" he said, squinting at her. "Now. You can sniff each other's asses later. Where's the Dragon, Lanfear?"

Lanfear ignored the comment.

"We have more immediate problems than Rand al'Thor," she said flatly.

Sammael laughed. "Rand-al'Thor, Ye dinnae learn your lesson the last time, did ye? You were so mad for Lews Therin, you'd have laid yerself out at his feet if he'd said 'rug.'"

Lanfear's expression soured. She withdrew her hands from her pockets. Sammael's hand dropped to the hilt of his blade.

A flicker of the True Power shimmered across Elara's skin, swirling down her arms. She stepped forward.

"I'd put that away, girl," Sammael warned, voice rough. "Ye don't want tae start something ye can't finish."

"I'm sure I can manage," Elara replied coolly, the shadows clinging to her voice like a second skin.

Rahvin raised his hand. "Enough," he snapped. "Did none of us learn our lesson the last time? We Chosen fought each other more than the Dragon. And where did that get us?"

Sammael grunted, but said nothing.

Rahvin's eyes slid back to Lanfear. "Now, why did you bring us here?"

Elara's jaw tightened.

"Moghedien," Lanfear said smoothly.

Sammael barked a laugh. "Are we flies to be scared of a little spider?"