“Of course,” I respond. “You can’t have too many plants now, can you?”
“No, I don’t suppose you can,” he says. “I am glad you feel that way.”
Heat flushes my cheekbones, and I hurry on. The next door is to the Meditation Hall. I knock loudly and wait.
“Enter,” a voice calls. Mother’s voice.
The Watcher. The clan leader. The spiritual voice of the Shore Watch.
I look up at Eldaren. “Are you ready?”
He doesn’t answer me, and instead murmurs, “The woman in this room is very strong.”
I open the door, and the three of us step in.
21
Eldaren
I look around. The Meditation Hall is aptly named. The windows are large and let in plenty of light. Seating is sparse; floor cushions and a few animal skins. The scent of sage and lavender is thick in the air, and the room is filled with crystals and plants.
A woman is seated at the end of the room. Her back is toward us, but I get the sense that she is keenly aware of me. Her black hair tumbles in curly waves down her back.
“A star has descended from the skies to speak with us,” the woman says, without turning around. “How fortunate we are to be graced by your presence.”
I frown. Her words are respectful. I don’t pretend to understand everything about humans, but if I didn’t know any better, I might say the tone she just used was mocking.
“Yes,” I say, stepping forward. “It is fortunate for the humans we have come.”
“You’ve made much progress in Liberty,” the woman says. “You can hardly tell the difference between it and here.”
There’s no mistaking the tone now.
My eyes narrow. “Perhaps if the Watcher had condescended to come to Liberty’s shores,” I say, “the city would not be in such a pathetic state.”
There is a pause as the woman mulls over my words. “It is true,” she says, and I can now hear a hint of ruefulness. “But one’s power only stretches so far. I look after my own. The rest of the world must manage as best they can.”
“Which is why the elves are here,” I say. “We are not confined to a single island. We do our best to protect the entire world.”
“I see. Well, the Shore Watch does not need your help.” The woman stays seated but swivels around to look at me. Her skin is the same dark color as Sophia’s, but while Sophia’s eyes are brown, this woman’s eyes are a brilliant green. “We have tended to this island for hundreds of years. It may possibly be the only place where corruption hasn’t come, but we kept it this way without elven intervention.”
So she’s proud. My instinct is to point out the logical benefits of submitting to the will of the elves, but I get the feeling that it won’t work. Not on this woman.
“I agree you do not need our help,” I reply. I am satisfied when her eyebrows rise. She was not expecting that admission. “But the world needs the help of the clan.” I point at Sophia. “Specifically, her help. I have been searching for a gaia for years.”
The woman doesn’t respond and merely eyes me, waiting. Waiting for what? Surely I’ve made myself and my intentions clear. What more does she want?
“I think it checks out,” Sophia says, and my gaze flickers to her and away. I am surprised. She really does seem to trust me, which isn’t like most humans. Perhaps she can sense my true character with her magic. Sensible girl, if so.
Stella watches the exchange between the three of us with fascination but stays silent. Thank the stars. I can’t imagine trying to manage a conversation with three women at the same time.
“We’ve heard the rumors,” Sophia continues, speaking to her mother. “The elves may be a proud people—”
I do my best to hold back a snort. This Watcher is prouder than my entire race combined.
“—but they want to help. They’ve been planting trees and shrubs in Liberty and have passed out water and rations to those who would otherwise go hungry. I think we should trust him. I believe his intentions are good.”
The Watcher purses her lips, and the gaze she studies me with is calculating. “Sophia trusts you,” she says, musingly. She glances at her daughter. “But this isn’t one of your fantasy books, love.”
Sophia flushes and looks at the floor, fists clenched. “I know that,” she says, her tone turning sulky. “I just think we should trust him. He met me out in the woods. I was alone. He could have just killed or kidnapped me if he’d wanted to.”
“I’ve told you not to go gallivanting out in the forest too far,” the Watcher chides. “You know it’s not always safe out there.”
“I needed to think,” Sophia says, and she sighs, frustration painting her features. “I can’t hide forever.”
The older woman’s gaze softens. “I know you feel confined on the island,” she says. “It’s only natural. You’re a gaia, Sophia. You’re not meant for this place, alone. You were meant to see the world, to experience what it has to offer. But times are different now, and there’s no one else like you.”
“Is she truly the only gaia, then?” I ask, and the Watcher cuts her eyes to me.
“Yes,” she says, “as far as I am aware. I’ve known Sophia was a gaia since her birth. She’s quite possibly the only one that survives.”
“You have a bond with the Earth,” Stella says, entering the conversation. I keep my expression politely neutral, but exasperation rises. These women are going to throw me out of the conversation before I’ve had the chance to steer it where it needs to go. “Have you asked it, the Earth, if there are any other gaia?”
“I’ve tried,” Sophia says, and she eyes Stella with an expression I can’t identify. “She can’t, or won’t, say.”
“Well, gaia are her children, too,” the Watcher says. “She won’t give up
