Crown of the Eternals

2

Two days later, the arrangements for the Eternal royals' departure were underway. Serena had sent the tree nymphs who were watching over Pevana to the border between the Realm and Perpetuum, and had written to Mysteis that they had found her sister and were on their way. She had not gotten a response from her yet - indeed, the letter would not even have found her yet - but she had not wanted to waste any time.

Auri still had not sought out her company since she had decided to go home. While it hurt Serena, she supposed it might be for the best. As much as she would miss Auri when she left, she knew that it was something the girl had to do. She did not belong here.

The only thing left to decide was who would be escorting the Eternal royals back to Perpetuum. It had to be someone important enough to represent her there. It had to be someone who knew enough about the Eternals and their culture not to cause offense. It had to be someone who could keep Auri and Wayke safe on the road, and potentially safe upon reaching their palace depending on the people's attitudes toward them.

In short, it had to be one of her Lights, and she knew that not one of them would be pleased at the idea of leaving her side for so long, let alone the Realm and the magic that went with it. While Fae would still be able to cast magic in Perpetuum, once they emptied their store of it, there would be no replenishing it from the atmosphere around them. The heavens had blessed the Realm and those who resided in it with magic; beyond its borders, while magical things still happened by decree of the heavens, no other races were able to capture or control it.

She squirmed atop her throne, stretching out her back. While beautiful, the chair was not the most comfortable. She had just completed three hours of listening to citizens' problems. They were small things - one blamed a new blacksmith for the fact that he no longer had good business, one claimed there had been a theft in his shop, one complained about rotten crops and demanded an explanation that she did not have.

Still, she listened to them all attentively, and her scribe, Kitt, wrote down all problems that she felt were worthy of sending people out to follow up on. She went through this process once a week, and never failed to be amazed at how even the Fae could complain about the most uncircumstantial things, though she had not yet had someone lash out at her. Hopefully that meant she had their respect.

Now she waited for Tarin, whom she had sent a page boy out to find. She would assume, given that he was not by her side during her community session, that he was out training. Or else he was out overseeing the training of more of the Fae in the armies. Sometimes she went out to observe the latter, and she could tell by the ferocity with which he treated his warriors that their training had been intensified. The next race to threaten the Fae would be met with force previously unheard of; she knew it in her bones. Almost losing her had given Tarin a type of focus that she was sure he had not attained the level of since she had been stolen from him as a child.

She was relieved from reliving the pain of those years as the doors to the throne room were opened, and the royal herald, Flint Farwind, announced Tarin's arrival.

He strode to her with swift, graceful steps. If humans observed the way Fae walked in the Realm, they might take them for dancers - and dance they could. However, in Tarin, his grace was more a testament to his fighting style and skill. She might beat him in combat on a lucky day now, but rarely without trickery or magic at her back. She knew of nobody else who stood a chance. She only did because he had taught her everything he could in this past year, determined that she be able to defend herself against any enemy that might oppose her just in case he was not there to do it for her.

He fiddled with his arm braces as he walked, and she took the few seconds it took him to cross the long room to admire him. He must have been training indeed; there was a light sheen of sweat coating his skin that she only noticed because of her Fae sight, but he did not seem tired. His twin swords that had been imbued with additional power from her great-grandmother Muiress were crossed in their sheaths against his back, and though she saw no other weapons on him, she knew at least of the darts under his arm braces and the knives in his boots. She had no doubt that with just the weapons hidden on his person he could kill every last guard lining the walls of this room if he had cause to - which he did not, as he checked out every last person who worked in the castle ever since Iliss and Holly had slipped past his guard.