Impossible, Amrothlin had said, but what would his uncle say now? What would the other elves say? Or—given his Squires’ response—what would his human subjects say? He was not even sure how it had come to him. Was it all the elvenhome gift from his mother, or were the jewels the Lady had worn, the ring and torc that had been his mother’s, part of what created it?

Around him the forest acknowledged his new power, the trees singing their slow songs he could now hear, the birds and animals calling to him, naming him their lord. As the power upheld him, he felt the weight of responsibility.

All the beauty he had admired on his way into the old forest he must now take as his duty. As limbs had dropped into his hands after he killed the elf, limbs would drop or burgeon at his request. He shivered again. No mortal could possibly … and yet … he was. As with the unasked kingship, he must find a way to be what he had never imagined. Change nothing now, he thought at the forest. There is time. He hoped there would be time. Surely the Lady had not done something every day, every minute. Elves cautioned against haste. He would not be hasty.

He tried focusing on the objects he had received. The torc, the ring, the belt clasp, the jewels from the dead elf’s hair … and the tiles. What was that white core of the torc? A sea-beast’s tusk? He had never seen anything like it, and he was not, he suspected, likely to see it again. The belt clasp, he thought, was of human origin; he had seen enameling like that—discounting the tiny letters that appeared when he touched it and disappeared shortly after—in Aarenis. The dragon in his ring, appearing and disappearing under the fern carved above it—what was that? An elf and dragon symbol, as the stone in his father’s ring was an elf and human symbol? That these were magical he knew, but not what the magic was, except that the traitor elf had said they had something to do with the elvenhome power.

Halfway to Chaya, they met his Squires Ceilar and Jostin returning with supplies, and halted early.

“Sir king …?” Ceilar looked shocked. Jostin shook his head, and Ceilar fell silent.

“I will tell you,” Kieri said, “when we have eaten.” They both nodded, and all the Squires set about making camp. Kieri bespoke the trees for firewood and then with a gesture opened the carpet of moss that here covered the soil, making a bare space safe for fire.

“It will close again when we have put the fire out,” Kieri said to the Squires. He left them to light it. That first hot meal in days seemed unduly rich to him; they all ate without speaking, but as soon as it was done, he spoke again.