He opened his eyes and saw swaying treetops, a brilliant shade of emerald green. The rushing sound of water combined with the buzz of insects to provide a soothing melody of nature. The air was crisp and fresh, and although the sky above was bright and blue, the glade was cool, filtering the strongest rays.

He sat up.

A tall, lean man with arched eyebrows was crouched on his heels nearby as he watched Dion. He wasn’t a man, Dion realized – he was an eldran. He wore well-fitting garments of soft deerskin – a vest and loose brown trousers – but nothing on his feet, appearing completely comfortable on the soft grass.

He had pale skin, nearly white, and a crescent-shaped scar on his left cheek. His brown eyes were flecked with gold and appeared ancient, making Dion feel like a young child, insignificant beside someone wiser and greater. Lustrous silver hair hung to the eldran’s shoulders.

Thinking of Triton, Dion reached for his bow, but then remembered that Chloe said Triton was broad-shouldered, with one eye missing and skin tight on his bald head. This eldran was slim, with long hair; his face was gentle, weathered like parchment by the passage of time.

‘You won’t need your weapon, Dion. My name is Zachary. You have nothing to fear. You are in our lands, but I won’t harm you.’

‘How do you know my name?’

‘I know you well, young prince Dion of Xanthos.’

‘How?’ Dion climbed to his feet, and the eldran slowly rose with him. Though he was extremely thin, Zachary was taller than Dion by a full six inches. ‘How do you know me?’

‘Through your mother,’ Zachary said softly.

‘My mother is dead.’

‘I know.’ He spoke simply, but his voice carried a sense of loss and sadness. ‘I grieve with you.’

‘Leave me be,’ Dion said, hanging his head. ‘I came to pray to my gods, not to talk to eldren.’

‘Dion,’ Zachary said as he gazed down at him. ‘Look at me.’

Despite himself, Dion tilted his head back to meet the eldran’s gaze.

‘You will want to know what I have to say. What she never wanted you to know.’ Zachary paused, and then spoke clearly and succinctly, so that Dion could not mistake his words. ‘Your mother was one of us.’

‘She cared for your people, I know. You are all most likely alive because of her. She—’

‘It’s the truth,’ Zachary said. ‘Although I can understand why you find it hard to accept. I always thought she should tell you, but she wanted you to be completely one of them, rather than partly one of us. You should know the truth.’

Dion wondered if he was still lying on his back, dreaming as his closed eyelids banished the light of the stars. ‘Truth? What truth?’

‘Long ago Markos, your father, King of Xanthos, had a tragedy. His wife died giving birth to his firstborn, a son.’