If she was offended by his irritation, she kept it to herself. “I have something to offer, if you seek a way to end this war much more quickly than it will be ended otherwise.”

He stared at her, transfixed by more than the possibility her words suggested. She was so pale in the moonlight that she seemed almost transparent, the cast of her skin as white as death, the darkness of her eyes in such sharp contrast they seemed opaque. She was dressed in a black robe, her slender body completely shrouded and her head hooded. Her face, peering from the hood’s shadows, and her hands, clutching loosely at the robe’s edges, gave disconcerting evidence that he was in the presence of a ghost.

It was not the first time he had experienced that feeling. There had been a look to Iridia of late that was so chillingly otherworldly, he had trouble at times believing she wasn’t something less than human.

He pursed his lips at her. “I will end it quickly enough on my own, once the Dechtera is airborne again. My weapon will burn what remains of the Free-born fleet to cinders. I already hunt the remnants of the Elven army and will find them within the week, as well. Aren’t you better off worrying about Shadea and her Druids than matters of war? Isn’t that the task which you were assigned?”

It was a stinging rebuke, delivered as much out of distaste for her unwanted intervention as dismay over her lack of sophistication in battle tactics. But she seemed unmoved by his words, her expression empty of feeling.

“My task is to save you from yourself, Prime Minister. The Free-born have lost their ships on the Prekkendorran, but they can obtain others. Their army might be scattered and in momentary disarray, but it will regroup. You will not win this war through a single victory. You should know as much without my having to tell you.”

Her words were so dismissive that he flushed in spite of himself. She was talking to him as if he were a child.

“This war has lasted fifty years,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to his reaction. “It will not be ended on the Prekkendorran. It will not be won on any Southland battlefield. It will be won in the Westland. It will be won when you break the spirit of the Elves, because it is the Elves who are the backbone of the Free-born struggle. Break their spirit, and those who fight with them will be quick to seek peace.”

He frowned. “I would have thought that the loss of their fleet and their King had accomplished that. Obviously, you don’t agree. Have you something else in mind, a more persuasive way to bring them into line?”

“Much more persuasive.”