Amrothlin shifted uneasily in his seat. “No—not quite—he was the king, after all.”

“A king with no taig-sense, as you’ve said. For her, the only family she had left—”

“She had us—”

“Whom she did not know. Could not know, as she had known her mother and me.” Kieri felt the grief he had sensed in his sister’s bones. “She died of sorrow as much as childbirth, I believe. Determined to do her duty, but without much joy, if any. I blame myself, Uncle, for not escaping sooner, while you might still have considered me worthy—for not somehow finding a way to serve her, save her.”

“I—never thought any of this,” Amrothlin said. “Her husband … her Council …”

“They erred, and they suffered for it,” Kieri said. “So did the taig, and so did the kingdom. But I hold you, Uncle—you and all the elves, including my grandmother—partly responsible. Not that you asked my mother to bring me to the Ladysforest—that was innocently done, I am convinced. But that my sister felt abandoned and bereft—desperate enough to think risking her own death without need was her best way to prove herself—for that, we are all in part responsible.”

“Not you,” Amrothlin said. “Not after what you endured.”

“I was near enough healed by then, grown to manhood. I sensed secrets hovering around me, but did not press for answers—”

“You would not have had them,” Amrothlin said.

“I could have tried,” Kieri said. “And perhaps, if I had—perhaps that might have changed some minds. I didn’t, and that was part defiance. If no one would explain, I scorned to beg; I would make my own way—as I did. But that pride had its cost to more than myself.” He waited; Amrothlin said nothing. “What I’ve learned, Uncle, in a life you despise, is that everything we do has more than one consequence, and half those or more we never anticipate.”

“That is elven thinking,” Amrothlin said. “And one reason why we are wary of acting in haste. It takes time—sometimes time that seems long to humans—to foresee all consequences …”

“Delay also has consequences,” Kieri said. “Haste brings one set of hazards; delay, another. But I am not speaking only to chastise, but to insist that the breach between the peoples harms the taig and risks the entire realm.”

Amrothlin opened his mouth to speak, but Kieri went on.

“It must end, and both peoples must work to end it; healing this cannot be done by elves alone or humans alone. I am asking you, Uncle, to take the lead among elves.”

Amrothlin might have been asked to swallow a bitter fruit, from his expression. Kieri waited, and finally Amrothlin said, “Who is the human to whom you have given the task of persuading humans?”

“I have not decided yet,” Kieri said. “But as you are my uncle, my mother’s own brother, it seemed honorable to ask your help.”

“You remind me of her,” Amrothlin said. “Of the ways in which she annoyed me.” But humor softened his tone. “I suppose I must. But please, do not choose Sier Carvarsin: it is not merely that he is more hasty and more … annoying … than others, but I cannot get past his appearance—that great lump on his nose, and the one on his cheek with those black hairs.”