Eldaren frowns. “I respect the lives of all living creatures,” he says firmly. “You may not see the value in animals, but I do. They demand respect. All living things do.”
The older woman shrugs and takes another sip of tea. I got to hand it to her; she’s nearly equal with the elves when it comes to keeping her emotions in check. “We value beasts,” she says, “but we eat to survive.”
“I know that,” Eldaren says, his brows lowering further. “I will not interfere with your dietary choices, but I will provide my own food.”
I jerk my head toward the window. “Lots of green things to eat out there,” I say cheerfully.
Even the Watcher smiles at the withering glance Eldaren directs at me.
“Well, I think it’s great,” Sophia blurts out. Everyone looks at her, and she blushes. Averting her gaze, she continues. “The prince is showing he’s not just full of talk. He’s actually doing what he can to help those on this planet, even animals.”
Eldaren nods in approval. “Thank you, Sophia,” he says. “I am glad to find a human who has some sense.”
The young woman blinks, clearly unsure how to take this.
I take another bite of the cupcake, trying to focus on the taste of cinnamon. My stomach feels funny. It’s fine if Eldaren talks to another woman. It’s not like he’s flirting with her, or anything. Why do I feel this sudden swirl of nervousness?
“What is your plan for the gaia?” the Watcher asks. She’s eyeing Eldaren over her teacup with an expression I can’t read. “You want her to help the Earth, you say, but how? And how do you intend to have my daughter help?” She puts the cup down and looks Eldaren squarely in the eye.
The prince stares levelly back and doesn’t respond.
The silence stretches.
I shiver, suddenly aware of the mental clash between these two leaders.
On the one hand, there was Eldaren, intelligent, fearless, and full of conviction and passion.
On the other, the Watcher: a woman filled with wisdom, restraint, and an unyielding will of iron.
Swallowing, my gaze turns to Sophia, and I see she’s studying me. Chin in palm, her eyes narrow as she looks me over. I’m no mind reader, but if I were to take a guess, I’d say she looks determined.
About what, I’m not sure, but I don’t like it.
23
Eldaren
I think I can trust her.
The Watcher.
This woman will fight to the death to protect her offspring. I can sense it. She reminds me of Mother.
I remember a time when I’d gotten myself into a scrape as a boy. I had gone to the fighting ring, determined to prove myself a man. I soon found myself surrounded by men—young, but still well acquainted with combat. I still recall the punches, the kicks, the pain reverberating through my ribs and head as I curled up into a ball, terrified and alone.
Ashamed of my weakness and youth.
And then Mother was there.
Elven strength is much greater than that of humans, but we follow the same pattern of males being stronger than females by far.
That didn’t stop her. She didn’t wait for her guards to come to her aid before charging in to protect me.
I remember the animalistic screams as she fought for me. The blood. Her anger.
She was a queen. She was an elf warrior.
But more than that.
She was a mother.
I lost consciousness for some time, but the next thing I remembered was the feel of her arms cradling my broken body to her chest.
“How did you know I was in trouble?” I asked later that night.
Mother had smiled warmly. “It’s my job to know those sorts of things, my child,” she’d said. She’d shown me an artist crystal as an example, using its light ribbons to illustrate in the air. The crystal levitated, powered by its own self-replenishing energy. She hovered her hand over it, and ribbons of light swirled from its depths and into the air. “Think of it like our star.” She caught some of the light strands with her fingers and tangled them into a glowing ball. “The star is always there, unmoving and constant."
"But the star does move," I'd said.
"Don't ruin my narrative!" she pouted. "Here,” she continued to illustrate, the ribbons obeying the movements of her hand, “is our home planet, and the other planets beside it. They move in their orbit, doing their own thing, see?” She frowned. “Much like little unruly children, actually. Especially that planet Brynuh.” A small ribbon curled into itself, turning blue, orbiting on the far edge. Mother smiled affectionately at me before she continued.
“A queen has many responsibilities, and a mother even more so. It feels like that, anyway. But regardless of the jobs, emotions, or distractions she might have to wade through, a real mother is always there, just like the star. Always.” She’d eyed me sternly after that. “You are never to go to the fighting ring without Father or me, do you understand? Never, ever. Not for another fifty years, at least. You’re still too young to participate in the Shygouh.”
Always a mother.
“Eldaren?” Stella’s hand lightly touches my sleeve.
I don’t break eye contact with the Watcher. “I plan to use your daughter to heal Earth,” I say.
“Use her?” The Watcher’s expression doesn’t change. “In what way?”
“However Eema deems fit,” Eldaren says evenly. “I assume the Earth knows what she needs the gaia to do.”
The Watcher glances at her daughter. “Eema hasn’t told you yet, has she?”
Sophia shrugs. “Not really. She thinks I need to start doing something, though.”
“What would that be?” I press.
She shrugs her shoulders and doesn’t look at me. “I don’t know.”
I stroke my chin. “Perhaps I should try to communicate with her.”
That gets stares from all three women.
“Can you do that?” Stella asks. “Why haven’t you tried it before?”
“I have,” I say, “but it wasn’t here on Vashon. It was elsewhere.”
“I guess it’s worth a try,” Sophia says uncertainly. “I’ve never met anyone who can talk to her
