Elvenborn
Book Three
TOR
fantasy
ATOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK NEW YORK
PROLOGUE
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V'kel Lyon Lord Kyndreth stood up, and loomed over the Council table and the Councilors seated there. Most of his fellow Elvenlords would not meet his eyes; those that did so shared a congratulatory glance with him. The Council Chamber was not a comfortable place today, and he had ensured—with a few orders to the slaves who had prepared it— that it would remain so. Cold. Dim. The cushions on the seats pounded flat. And even the refreshments were ill-served—at a uniform temperature that could only be described as 'tepid.' All to keep everyone here wishing he was elsewhere, and less than pleased with the one—
Lord Kyndreth's star was in the ascendant once again, and this time he would see to it that it did not fall a second time.
'How is it,' he asked, to empty air, 'that a rebellious pack of children and former slaves have managed to hold off our allegedly well-trained, well-led and well-supplied
'Lord Kyndreth—' ventured V'kel Anster Lord Rechan, scrambling mightily for the upper hand he had—if he had only known it—just lost, 'this
'A trickle here, a loss there, the
the satisfaction of seeing his chief opponent wince. 'By the Ancestors, you fool, can't you see that a so- called 'trickle' is all that is needed to bleed us to death?' Kyndreth saw with some satisfaction a subtle and unspoken shifting among the other Council members, and watched as power came over to his side. 'And what, may I ask, do you propose to do if these so-called 'errant children' of ours decide to ally with the Elvenbane and her wizards and dragons?'
There. It was out in the open, the thing that no one had dared to say, and he watched as a chill passed over all the rest of them. Yes, even Lord Rechan.
'They wouldn't—' someone whispered.
'Don't ever believe that,' one of Kyndreth's supporters said, sharply. He took note of the speaker and reminded himself to single
'Because—because—because they're Elvenlords!' the first lord spluttered, looking so horrified by the very notion that one would think he'd been accused of fathering halfblooded children himself.
'And when whatever magic they've discovered ceases to prevent
Silence.
'Now,' Kyndreth said, into that silence, changing his voice from challenging to calm, 'I have some suggestions. The first of which is one I think none of you will anticipate. I suggest that we continue to allow our
'Well—yes,' replied Lord Rechan, looking gratifyingly puzzled. 'If, as you say, the inroads are slowly bleeding us to death—'
'Firstly, we don't want the brats to
and it's probably
And to his immense satisfaction, there was not one single objection.
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V'kel Aelmarkin er-Lord Tornal smiled down at the slave who rested her pale-tressed head on his knee. She was his current personal favorite, a delicate young human female nestled trustingly against his leg. Her thin, fine- boned face and porcelain complexion pleased him with their flawless symmetry and perfection. She returned his smile shyly, yet with a touch of the coquette, her round, blue eyes reflecting her callow, unsophisticated nature. No rebellious thoughts dwelling in
He sighed with contentment, and smoothed the pale gold, silken hair away from her brow with a gentle caress. She was exquisite; lovely, eager to please, pliant, graceful, innocent and incredibly easy to manipulate.