Reyna bowed her head to the two guards standing outside the double doors of the throne room. They only possessed half the armour of a typical Namdhorian soldier and they had no promise of coin for their service, yet they still manned their positions to protect their king.
Inside, the throne room was a hub of activity. Servants were in the process of placing a long table between the pillars with its head in line with the throne. Kassian was off to the side, conversing with two of his Keepers and the stranger he had escorted inside. Despite the activity, Reyna was drawn to the throne itself, where Vighon was seated with his eyes closed.
He was holding a diviner.
Kassian caught their entrance in the corner of his eye and broke away to greet them. “A rider from The Black Wood,” he quickly explained. “Queen Drelda sent him after speaking with Faylen.”
“What news?” Reyna blurted, her eyes shifting back to Vighon.
“That’s all he knows,” Kassian replied.
“He came alone?” Nathaniel enquired wearily.
“Disguised as a merchant,” Kassian confirmed. “The Rebellion has no idea we’ve taken the city.”
Reyna shared some of her husband’s dismay, hoping, as he had, that whoever came from The Black Wood would do so in the company of battle-hardened dwarves.
“That’s not all,” Kassian continued. “The Reavers outside the city - they’re beating their chests even faster now.”
“He’s getting closer,” Nathaniel reasoned.
“It would seem so.”
Reyna was inclined to agree, though her attention was held by potential news from Qamnaran. “What’s all this?” she asked, observing the table and chairs being put into place.
“Vighon wants to—”
“His Grace,” Nathaniel corrected. “Or the king,” he suggested. “I know they’re just words but they hold weight for those around us.”
Kassian shifted on the spot, struggling with the need to roll his eyes. “The king wants to set up a meeting between us, Sir Ruban, and the contingent on Qamnaran. My Keepers here can link the new diviner to theirs.”
Reyna displayed her confusion. “Then why is the king speaking alone?”
“That was the message that accompanied the rider. Faylen wanted to speak with the king alone before we link all three diviners.”
Reyna’s stomach turned to quick-sand. “Why would she do that?” she said aloud without meaning to.
Kassian pulled a face that always preceded his usual sarcasm. “I would say it isn’t for us mere mortals to understand… but look who I’m talking to.”
Vighon stood up from his throne, ending every conversation in the chamber. “Empty the room,” he commanded.
There was a brief pause before the servants turned to leave and the Keepers gestured for the rider to accompany them. Kassian, however, made no move to follow them. “Vig… Your Grace, my Keepers are required to connect our diviner to the others.”
“The meeting will wait,” Vighon told him. “Faylen wishes to speak privately with Reyna and I would not deny her. Clear the room.”
Kassian held back any remark he might have had and simply departed the throne room. Nathaniel, on the other hand, remained as grounded as a statue, a stance the king did not protest.
“Please.” Vighon gestured to his throne, inviting Reyna to take a seat as well as the diviner.
The elven ambassador was brimming with questions but she dared not voice a single one. Instead, she walked towards the throne and ascended the few steps to meet Vighon. Only then did she notice Sir Borin the Dread, previously hidden by one of the pillars. They were, perhaps, the only things large enough to conceal the Golem and his wide frame. Thankfully, his grotesque features were also concealed by a cumbersome bucket-like helmet and a mis-match of armour and leathers.
“Here,” Vighon said, presenting her with the diviner.
Reyna accepted the black orb and seated herself on the furs that lined the throne. Cupping the diviner in both hands, the elf gave her husband one last look before closing her eyes and allowing the orb to pull her mind therein.
Faylen’s familiar features were there to greet her among the shadows and liquid-like smoke. How long had it been since they spoke?
“It’s been too long,” Reyna said in her native tongue.
“Indeed,” Faylen agreed. “I do not like to measure your absence in years.”
“How do you fair?” Reyna asked. “Do you suffer any injuries?”
“Nothing I cannot overcome,” the High Guardian replied.
A heavy silence hung between them, fuelling Reyna’s fears, of which there were many. “I know Alijah still lives,” she finally said. “There are Reavers here.”
“Yes, Vighon informed me of your situation.” The fact that Faylen didn’t go on to make any comment on their miraculous taking of Namdhor spoke volumes to Reyna.
“Faylen,” she said softly. “Tell me.”
Though her ethereal form made it impossible to tell, it appeared the High Guardian wiped a tear from her cheek. “Your mother faced Alijah alone, inside the tower. Whatever magic was wrought upon it, the island could not bear it. The tower fell into the sea… with Adilandra inside. She’s gone, Reyna. I’m so sorry. She’s gone.”
Reyna remained perfectly still, numb almost, as Faylen informed her of the events surrounding her mother’s death. The fact that so many survived because of her mother’s efforts didn’t pass her by, but she was unable to make comment on it. One of the hardest parts to come to terms with was the absence of any body to recover.
“I will never see her again,” Reyna grieved.
“I’m so sorry,” Faylen said again, her voice saturated with sorrow. “I should have… I should have been by her side. That was my duty.”
Another silence filled the space between them, a dark depression that threatened to rob the world of all light. Reyna didn’t know what else to say. It hurt. She wanted to lay waste to everything. The pain made her want to lash out. She wanted to scold Faylen for failing to protect her mother and she wanted to throttle her
