the Rhyssal House guard to remain.
When the door had been closed, Thaedoren leaned forward. “What word do you bring? Why would my mother need to be kept safe in Artillien?” His tone was that of the Tamaell, demanding an answer.
Aeren drew in a deep breath to gather his thoughts, then said bluntly, “There are two threats-Lotaern and the Wraiths.”
Thaedoren didn’t react. “Go on.”
“Lotaern has always been a threat. He craves power, political power rather than strictly that which he wields as the Chosen of the Order of Aielan.”
Thaedoren waved a hand dismissively. “This is not new. He has gained much since the rule of my father, although I have tried to curb him where I could, with the help of you and our allies. Some would say that your attempts to block him come from a personal grudge against him, that it has nothing to do with the interests of the Alvritshai or the Evant. You defied him openly when Shaeveran brought us the Winter Tree, when he planted it in the marketplace without the consent of the Evant.”
The hint of warning in his voice could not be missed and Aeren bowed his head. “That was not planned.”
“So you have said before. And I’m certain my mother would back your claim. Regardless, it still gives credence to the accusations that you have your own agenda, your own purpose. And part of that purpose is to oppose Lotaern.”
Aeren’s head snapped up. “I oppose Lotaern because he strives to gain power that does not belong to him. The Order has no place within the Evant, and yet he wishes to be treated as a lord, as if he ruled his own House. He gained hold of his own Phalanx in the battlefields at the Escarpment with his Order of the Flame, and since then he has reached for more. He is now asked to attend all of the meetings of the Evant, has his own voice in those proceedings. He is a lord in every respect except title. That is what I oppose. There should be a division between the secular and the spiritual, between politics and religion.”
Thaedoren waited a moment, allowing Aeren to regain control. “I do not disagree, although there is little I can do about it. He gained this power by using the lords’ and the people’s fear of the Wraiths and the sukrael. But you already know this. What has he done now? How does he seek to grab more power?”
Aeren hesitated, suddenly realizing that Thaedoren hadn’t meant to goad him, but to warn him. If he presented his claim before the Lords of the Evant, he would receive the exact same argument in return.
He closed his eyes and forced his anger back. He wasn’t even certain where the anger had come from, except that he had not expected Thaedoren to argue with him. He’d come in search of an ally, one he felt he desperately needed. He had assumed Thaedoren would support him without question.
Perhaps Eraeth’s absence had affected him even more than he’d thought.
But when he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the spray of greenery above Thaedoren’s head and his breath caught in his chest.
Reanne.
His gaze fell and he found Thaedoren watching him. Except now he noticed a difference, realized that this wasn’t the Thaedoren he’d known since his bonding with Moiran so many years before. Since then, they had been allies in nearly everything in the Evant, strategized together on some of the most important political issues brought before the lords. But he wasn’t dealing with Thaedoren alone anymore. He was dealing with Thaedoren
He’d known that the power within the Evant would shift with Thaedoren’s bonding, with the linkage between House Resue and Licaeta. He hadn’t realized Reanne would have begun wielding her influence over Thaedoren so fast. Licaeta had always supported Lotaern and the Order, had been one of the forces adamant about including the Chosen in the Evant’s proceedings.
“I believe Lotaern intends to use the Alvritshai people against us,” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, even though tension thrummed through his body. He suddenly didn’t know what to expect from Thaedoren, didn’t know what side he would take. His approach to the Tamaell shifted subtly, even as he continued. “Are you aware that he has sent members of the Order of the Flame, with escorts, into the individual Houses? They have been traveling from town to town, village to village, stopping at the temples of Aielan and performing the rituals along with-or sometimes in place of-the local acolytes. He is reminding the people of their ties to Aielan and to the Sanctuary. To him.”
Thaedoren made to protest, but Aeren halted him with a raised hand. “Let me finish.
“This by itself would make me uneasy, but there is something else. Lotaern and Shaeveran have been working on a blade that will kill the sukrael and the Wraiths, a weapon that will give its wielder an advantage over them. Shaeveran thought he had finally created such a blade and revealed the knife to Lotaern. The Chosen did not react as he expected, so Shaeveran kept the knife himself. However, since then, Lotaern has managed to gain possession of it.”
He told Thaedoren of the trek to the sarenavriell in the White Wastes, of the discovery of the Well and the Wraith and sukrael that waited for them there. He told him of the Flame’s betrayal during the attack, and the subsequent theft of the knife by Vaeren and the others.
“I assume the knife has already been returned to Lotaern, although as far as I know he does not realize that it does not work as Shaeveran had hoped. Siobhaen knows this, but the rest of the Flame departed before the Wraith recovered and vanished. Shaeveran felt that the revelation of whatever has happened in the east was more important than retrieving the knife, and so he, Eraeth, and Siobhaen have gone to the dwarren to see what they know of the awakening of the Lifeblood there. He sent me here to forewarn you of Lotaern and the renewed threat from the Wraiths and sukrael. He doesn’t know what that threat is specifically, but the Wraiths have begun to act again.”
“Have they found a way around the Seasonal Trees? Will they be able to attack Alvritshai lands?” Thaedoren had straightened in his seat as Aeren spoke. But only when Aeren began speaking of the Wraiths and sukrael; he didn’t appear concerned over Lotaern’s theft of the knife.
“Shaeveran checked with the Winter Tree before coming to Artillien with the Order of the Flame and said that the protection from the Trees was still in effect. I don’t think we are under any immediate threat of attack.”
“But an attack could come?”
“He doesn’t see how. But the Wraith that attacked us in the White Wastes was clear: the Wraith’s armies are already moving.”
“What ‘armies?’ Did he mean the sukrael?”
Aeren shrugged. “I don’t know. Neither does Shaeveran. But he believes that it is more than simply the sukrael. He says that the dwarren have been warning us all for decades that there are more creatures involved in what they call the Turning than the sukrael.”
Thaedoren fell silent, his face pinched in thought. After a moment, he stood and began pacing along the length of the table, head bowed.
He halted at the far end of the room, his gaze locked on one of Reanne’s cedar wall hangings. “What does Shaeveran expect us to do about the Wraiths and this army?”
A flash of nausea and irritation passed through Aeren, making him grateful that Thaedoren was not watching. Thaedoren appeared to have dismissed Lotaern entirely. “He’s left that for us to decide. But I do not feel that we have enough information to make any decisions. We need to know what he discovers from the dwarren first, and what he finds to the east.”
“But if what the Wraith said is true, we may not have time to wait.”
“The Winter Tree will protect us.” He swallowed back the bitterness in this throat and tried one more time, watching Thaedoren carefully. “Lotaern is a more immediate threat, one that we can deal with now. We should concern ourselves with him.”
Thaedoren turned to face him, not bothering to hide his own irritation. “And what do you propose to do about him? Sending the Order of the Flame out to the temples is within his rights as Chosen of the Order. You cannot confront him over that.”
Despair slid into Aeren’s chest. “His action has made many of the lords uneasy,” he said. “I think that fact, coupled with the knife he stole from Shaeveran, may be enough to bring the Evant against him.”
Thaedoren looked doubtful. “How do you intend to do that?”
“I will meet with each of the Lords of the Evant individually, explain to them about the knife and the Order’s
