“I have warned you, Ranger, about trying to save me,” she replied, brandishing an arrow head in his face.
Galanör held his hands up. “I know. I allowed Alijah to get in my head. Tomorrow, you and I will be shoulder to shoulder when we meet his Reavers. But, I promise you, it will not be our end. There will be another sunrise for us.”
“And after that?” Aenwyn enquired incredulously.
Galanör gave her his most confident smile. “An eternity of sunrises.”
Aenwyn rolled her eyes. “Perhaps that spell does have some side effects after all,” she remarked, touching the arrow to her head. “Was it an injury that saw you pledge yourself to Queen Reyna?” The question sounded innocent enough, but Galanör could hear deep curiosity in her voice. “Or was it guilt alone?” she added.
The elven ranger twisted his lips, aware that this too was a conversation he could not have avoided. “I went into that tower alone and unprepared. Had I not, Adilandra would still be alive.”
Aenwyn put her arrow down. “You cannot know such things, Galanör. It was a battle and a fierce one at that.”
Galanör raised his hand to halt any further protest. “Directly or indirectly, my actions led to her death and Reyna’s ascension to queen - a position she must surely resent. Whatever I have to give in service to the realm, it will be at Queen Reyna’s behest.”
“That’s quite the commitment for a ranger,” Aenwyn commented, probingly. “The Galfreys will be expected to return to Ayda after the war. If you are to be in service to them, you will have to follow them across The Adean.”
“We would have to follow them,” Galanör corrected. “You are already in service.”
Aenwyn leaned in to him. “You would make a new life for us? In Ayda?”
Galanör looked out at the land, at Illian. He had made it his home, however nomadic he had chosen to live. And he had come to love it, in his own way. He had even found a great fondness for the humans that inhabited it; a species he had once vowed to destroy. Then he turned back to look in Aenwyn’s eyes, dark orbs that pulled him in.
“My home is wherever you are,” he said softly. “If serving the king and queen offers us a roof over our heads… all the better.”
Aenwyn gave him a contented smile and pressed the side of her head into his chest.
“I am sorry,” he reiterated softly. “I should never have lied. And I should never have left you.”
“And?” Aenwyn demanded, pulling away from him.
Galanör gave her last question a moment’s thought before the answer dawned on him. “And I should have worn the cuirass.”
Aenwyn was nodding along. “It took some magic to heal those wounds on your chest.”
“If it were here I would wear it—”
“It’s back at the tent,” she inserted with half a smile.
Galanör let the rest of his sentence fall away. “Good,” he said simply. “Then I will wear it tomorrow.”
“Then you are soon to be forgiven,” she replied, coyly.
“Soon?” Galanör raised an immaculate eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, by sunrise you will have made it up to me.”
A broad grin slowly spread across the ranger’s face and he leaned in to kiss her. There was, indeed, a difference in her. It only added to his guilt for the grave concern he had put her through. Never again, he promised himself.
Resting back against the tree now, Galanör noticed Aenwyn’s smile fade away as she regarded the arrow in her hand. Adilandra’s name was engraved into the head.
“A great light has been extinguished from the world,” she spoke softly, “now to light the heavens instead.”
Galanör regarded the stars with dismay. “There is nothing up there so bright as Adilandra Sevari,” he reasoned. “I would say she was welcomed by the sun itself.”
Aenwyn added the arrow to the pile and picked up another. “Have you spoken to Faylen?”
The ranger scanned what he could see of the camp. He discovered Faylen’s makeshift tent notably distant from the cluster. She was sitting outside, alone, staring into the flames of her fire.
“I have tried,” he answered. “Outside of strategy, she does not wish to speak to anyone. Telling Reyna her mother had died must have been hard, especially when you’re the High Guardian. But she also had to break it to her that she is our new queen.”
“I cannot imagine the responsibility Reyna feels now,” Aenwyn sympathised.
“Reyna can handle it,” Galanör said with easy confidence. “I’m more concerned for how Faylen takes it all. She was close to Adilandra for centuries.”
“Perhaps speaking to Reyna will make her feel better,” Aenwyn posed.
The elven ranger sighed. “Reyna is days away from the plains. There’s a lot to overcome before they meet again.”
Movement crossed the edge of Galanör’s vision and he turned to see Russell Maybury walking away from Doran’s personal camp. The old wolf cloaked himself and disappeared into the night.
“I see conflict in you,” Aenwyn commented, having turned to see what had drawn Galanör’s attention.
“Conflict?”
“You fear the wolf that lurks behind his eyes.” Aenwyn’s words cut right to the heart of it.
“His condition worsens; that much is clear to see. But the full moon is upon us soon.”
There was a pause from Aenwyn before she asked, “Do you know how to slay a Werewolf?”
Galanör didn’t answer right away. He heard the question but to his mind it wasn’t a Werewolf he would be slaying - it was a good friend. Still, he knew where her curiosity came from and it wasn’t from a desire to kill Russell. She only wished to protect them all.
“The humans would have you believe you can only kill one with silver,” he finally explained. “As usual, their legends are skewed. Werewolves are flesh and blood like any creature. You just
