Scrutinising the northman’s reaction, Gideon could see that such a statement was hard to swallow. “Dwarves and elves from the south,” the old master surmised, “and dragons from the north. We can hold them until the rest of you arrive.”
Vighon sighed and retrieved his hand from Inara’s. “Sir Ruban: begin marching your men to the plains. Make no delay.”
The captain of the king’s guard bowed his head. “We will leave immediately, your Grace.”
The king acknowledged his response before regarding his ethereal allies. “Doran, Faylen: I will leave you to rally your forces and make tracks.”
“With respect, your Grace,” Faylen cut in. “As the High Guardian of Elandril’s forces, I have made my intentions clear, but only the sovereign can give the order to advance.”
Gideon could feel the tension filling the space between them all as every gaze slowly turned to the senior Galfreys. Eventually, even Nathaniel looked to his wife, the blood heir to all of Ayda.
“Queen Reyna,” Vighon said, the first to use her official title. “Will you commit your forces to this attack?”
Reyna didn’t move, a testament to her elven nature. When, at last, she lifted her eyes from the table, she looked from Faylen to Inara. Gideon could only imagine what was going through her head. She was being asked to commit her people to likely death in a battle that also pitched her children against each other. And it wasn’t that long ago such a burden would have fallen to her mother.
Perhaps sensing some of the same apprehension, Inara said, “You can’t make your decision based on your fear for my life. I’m in this fight, Mother.”
“You’re my child,” Reyna countered. “I will always fear for your life and it will always inform my decisions, regardless of your abilities.” She turned to Doran gravely. “But as you said, we haven’t come this far to stop taking risks now. Sir Ruban - inform Captain Nemir that he is to lead my forces to the dig site with all haste, though I’m afraid they will inevitably leave you and your men behind.”
The knight bowed his head. “Your Grace.”
“High Guardian,” Reyna continued, finding Faylen across the table. “March those who survived Qamnaran alongside Doran’s army. Keep Alijah from his task at all costs.”
“It will be done, my Queen,” Faylen promised, her vision lingering over the elf.
Reyna, however, returned her attention to Inara. “The world needs the light you carry more than any of us. Make sure you survive.”
“I will perish before Inara does,” Gideon reassured.
“My fate is my own,” Inara asserted. “Just like my grandmother’s was.”
No more was said between mother and daughter and Gideon made no further attempt to come between them. Even Nathaniel knew better than to do so, though he was gripping the arms of his chair with enough force to pale his knuckles.
Vighon stood up at the end of the table. “It seems this is the last time The Rebellion’s council will convene. I hope that when we next meet it is on a victorious battlefield, and we might all share a drink. Until then; fight hard. Fight for what’s in your heart and it will give you strength. We will join you soon.”
Those of an ethereal nature bowed their heads to the various royals and faded from view.
“I’ll prepare my Keepers for the journey,” Kassian said, making to leave the throne room.
“I’ll rouse every fighter we have,” Nathaniel added. “We should be able to leave within a few hours.”
Vighon looked down at Inara, but the Guardian was holding the gaze of her mother. “I will accompany you,” he offered Nathaniel. “When will you leave?” he asked Gideon.
The old master, however, found his mind wandering back to the morning’s events. Had he really seen it? Or was his mind playing tricks on him, giving him false hope. Impossible - Ilargo had noticed the same thing.
“Gideon?” Vighon prompted, drawing his attention. “When will you be leaving?”
“Ideally now,” he replied, “but when we reach the plains we will face Malliath and, I suspect, Alijah’s Dragon Riders. Ilargo and Athis need to rest before we enter that fight. I would leave them to eat and sleep for a few hours before we go.”
“What of Asher?” Nathaniel enquired.
“Yes,” Gideon acknowledged, “I would also like to be here when the hatchling arrives. Asher is going to need some guidance.”
“Perhaps you should go to him now,” Nathaniel suggested, his eyes shifting between his wife and daughter.
Gideon could see no part for him in the conversation to come. “That’s an excellent idea.”
Inara waited for the doors to close. “You can’t do that,” she instructed firmly.
“Do what?” Reyna asked with little curiosity in her voice.
“I know the circumstances of becoming an elven sovereign are always painful - I share some of that pain with you. But you are the queen of Ayda now. You cannot let your concern for me interfere with the decisions you make. You have responsibilities.”
“I have responsibilities as a mother,” Reyna interrupted.
Inara was shaking her head. “They cannot supersede your responsibilities as queen!”
“You’re all I have left!” Reyna snapped, her tears on the verge of spilling out. “Whatever Alijah’s fate, we both know he will not find redemption now. Ask Asher. Redemption takes time: time no one is willing to give him. I have already lost my son. Now I have to watch my daughter fly off into battle against the same enemy that just took my mother. This war is pulling us apart.”
Seeing her mother sob, Inara rose from the chair and moved to crouch down beside her. She offered comfort with an embrace as she rested her head against Reyna’s arm. She didn’t know what to say. Their world had unravelled and there were no words that could put it back together.
“If there’s any part of our Alijah left in there,” Inara said, “he wouldn’t want to live with the memories of
