Stranger (The Aevyanthis Chronicles, Book One)

Chapter Eight

The next day was spent venturing through the many halls of the palace. There were no beds in the palace of the elves, as Luke found out, and he had ended up sleeping on a pile of fur rugs on the floor. When he had awoken, he found a change of clothes and a pair of new boots waiting on the chairs. The elven tunic was soft – softer than any cotton or wool Luke had ever felt – and tailored to hug his body without restricting any movement.

"That blue brings out the color of your eyes," Enda said when they met in the hallway. She was wearing a flowing green gown that had gold leaves sewn into the hems, her honey-coloured hair adorned with a matching leaf brooch.

She was in her natural environment, blending in with the rest of the graceful creatures that roamed the palace. The cooks would chuckle at her jokes as she flitted around the kitchens, tasting what was to be served that night. When she passed the guards, they greeted her with kindness in their eyes.

Luke was not treated in the same manner.

"A human," one elven woman whispered to her companion as they passed. "What is a human doing here?"

"What is the queen thinking?" another muttered. "How could she allow trash to just meander around the palace? Disgusting, I tell you. Just disgusting."

"Pay them no attention," Enda said. She wrapped an arm around his. "Keep your strides confident, your chin raised. You are the only human in Thyssilla. Do not let them think you are not worthy."

"Easier said than done," he muttered.

"Please try to understand. The memories of the Centennial War are still fresh," she explained. "They still haven't forgiven humans for invading Thyssilla."

"Why would humans do that?" Luke lowered his head as an elven man passed, his gaze radiating against his skin like the sun.

"It is said that the late king of Agon was mad with power. He demanded that half of Thyssilla was to be offered as a gift to honor his kingdom's supremacy. When our queen refused, he treated it as a declaration of war."

Enda fidgeted, her eyes lowered.

"He began burning all the forests, sending war parties to invade and claim the land as Agon's. Any elf that was caught was hung in the streets like a criminal. After a hundred years of war, our queen and the other Lytte elves chose to create the barrier, to block the way to Thyssilla with their magick. Even now, the barrier remains."

"So you retreated?" Luke cursed himself as Enda frowned.

"We have some of the strongest, most agile warriors the realms have ever seen," she snapped. "But we are children of Lysander, the god of peace. Our Father entrusted his kingdom to the Lytte, but they grew proud with time. It was only after enduring a century of pain and bloodshed that we remembered that war is a human thing."

The palace walls peeled away to reveal the glittering forest around them, the paths winding themselves around trees as tall as skyscrapers. They curled like diamond snakes, down to courtyards dotted with pavilions as translucent as ice, and around them silver wildflowers grew, flowing like rivers that led to a distant lake. The morning was clear and bright, and everything the sunlight touched seemed to shimmer like the crystal shards on a chandelier.

As they passed through the courtyards and made their way to the back of the palace, they found a training ground of sorts. Luke almost overlooked it completely; it was partially hidden by flowering hedges, their thorns glistening black in the sun, and the silver filigree gates were almost unnoticeable upon first glance. But as they crossed the threshold, they could hear the twang of bowstrings loosing their arrows, the ringing of metal against metal, the shuffling of feet.