She is Elf.
Why is she in the land of barbarians?
My name is Gwennore. May I ask—
“Are you communicating with someone?” General Dravenko asked, as he approached the railing where she was standing.
She gave him a curious look. “You’re not hearing them, Lord General?”
“Call me Silas,” he whispered. “What do you mean—them? How many are there?”
“I’ve counted more than five. Some are male, and others female.”
“I’m hearing only half of the conversation—your half. You were using Elfish. Have some elves invaded my country?”
“I don’t think so.” Gwennore turned her attention back to the forest. May I ask who you are?
We are many.
We are the Kings.
Kings of the Forest.
You mean you’re … trees? Gwennore asked.
“Trees?” The general gave her an incredulous look. “Are you seriously—”
She lifted a hand to stop him when the voices continued.
Do not confuse us with the twigs. They are not sentient.
We are the Kings.
We tower over the twigs.
Then I will find you in the forest? Gwennore asked mentally. Where?
You cannot miss us.
We stretch from the Southern Sea of Woodwyn to the far reaches of the frozen north.
We are taller than the castles built by barbarians.
We are older than the Ancient Ones.
Who are the Ancient Ones? Gwennore asked.
The first dragons who flourished a thousand years ago.
They were destroyed five hundred years ago.
Replaced by the new dragons.
“Is this a game you’re playing on me?” the general interrupted with a worried look. “Are you getting revenge? Or did you have so much wine, you’re imagining—”
“I’m not drunk,” Gwennore muttered. “And I’m not making it up. They call themselves the Kings of the Forest. They say they are taller than castles and older than the Ancient Ones. Do you know of any extremely tall trees?”
His eyes narrowed. “The giant redwoods?”
“Are they tall?”
He nodded. “And rumored to be ancient. But they’re trees, for Light’s sake. I never thought they could speak. Are you sure you’re communicating with them?”
She turned back to the forest. How is it possible for me to hear you?
Are you Elf?
You must be Elf.
Only a few Elves can hear us.
I am Elf, Gwennore admitted.
You are far from home.
Are you the giant redwoods? she asked.
That is what the barbarians call us.
They are young and ignorant. They know not what they do.
“They are the redwoods,” Gwennore told the general.
He took a deep breath. “Then you’re really talking to trees. I would have never believed it possible.”
“They said only a few elves can communicate with them.”
“But you can hear dragons, too,” he muttered.
“I’ll ask about that.” Kings of the Forest, do you know of any Elves who can talk to the dragons?
No. Elves talk only to us.
Some of the barbarians can talk to the dragons.
Only the cursed barbarians.
The general leaned close. “What did they say?”
“According to the redwoods, the only ones who can communicate with the dragons are the cursed barbarians.”
His brows lifted. “Barbarians?”
She smiled sweetly. “That’s what they call you, my lord.”
He snorted. “When are you going to call me Silas?”
“You’re missing the point here, my lord. You can stop worrying that the elves are able to communicate with your precious dragons.”
“That is a relief.” He gave her a wry look. “Although I’m still dealing with one very stubborn elf, who refuses to say my name, but can communicate with both dragons and trees.”
“I could hear you, too, if you dropped your shield.”
He tilted his head, watching her carefully. “You said we wouldn’t be even unless you could hear my thoughts. Is that what it’ll take to ease your anger? Shall I let you hear me?”
Her breath caught. Was he serious?
“I’m very serious. But I should warn you. I’m not a tree.”
What does that mean? she wondered. That he has the thoughts of a man?
He nodded. “Are you willing to hear exactly how much I want you?”
With a gasp, she stepped back. “Don’t say that.”
“Then learn how to build a shield. Because the more I listen to your thoughts, the more I’m tempted to do every damned thing I’ve been imagining. And believe me, I’m barbarian enough to do it.”
Her cheeks blazed with heat as she turned away. Don’t think about him.
What is bothering you, Elf?
The redwoods were still hearing her, Gwennore thought. And the general and his friends. And the dragons. If she didn’t construct a shield, she would never have privacy again. “All right, my lord. I’ll do it.”
“Silas,” he growled.
She felt as if she were sinking. Drowning. “Silas.”
* * *
Gwennore was exhausted, both physically and mentally, by the time they arrived at Draven Castle. Her rear end ached from another long ride on a horse, and her mind was tired from constantly building a wall. The act, itself, was easy enough to do. She only had to imagine herself constructing a wall, brick by brick, around her thoughts. The problem was she was never quite sure if she was doing a proper job, so she kept building it over and over.
Silas had assured her he could no longer hear her thoughts, but the scoundrel hadn’t exactly proven himself trustworthy. She’d found herself calling him a bastard every five minutes just to see if he reacted.
They’d spent the rest of the trip coming up with plans, and they hoped to get started soon. When they dismounted in the courtyard of Draven Castle, Dimitri met them there and told Silas that His Majesty wanted to speak to him.
“I’ll take care of your guest,” a woman’s voice called out as she hurried across the courtyard.
Gwennore turned toward her. She looked perhaps fifty years of age, with gray streaks in her red hair and a few wrinkles on her brow and around her eyes. But she was still slender and moved quickly. She flashed a smile at Gwennore, then stopped next to the general.
“Margosha.” Silas greeted her with kiss on the cheek. “We’ll talk later.”
“Yes, don’t leave the king waiting.” She waved him off, then turned to Gwennore. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Pleased to meet you, my lady.” Gwennore curtsied.
“No need for
