They continued on, not saying anything now, just walking together. Aphenglow wasn’t sure she had resolved how she felt about having Cymrian as her shadow, but was satisfied that she had backed him off sufficiently that he would be careful about how far he encroached on her personal life. She would have a talk with Arlingfant later on about the quality of her choice.

They reached the Council Hall and were met by Home Guards at the entry doors. They identified themselves, and to Aphenglow’s surprise they were both admitted. She had been certain the guards would turn Cymrian away, but they hadn’t even tried. Inside, standing in the hallway that encircled the chamber, he turned to her again.

“I won’t go any farther than this,” he told her. “I know you want privacy in this matter, and I can do my job from out here. I just wanted to be close enough to reach you if you should need me. I will be waiting right outside the chamber doors.”

She left him there, moving over to where the Captain of the Home Guard, a man she didn’t know personally but could identify from his insignia, was waiting.

“Will you tell the King I am here?”

“Sian Aresh,” he introduced himself, bowing slightly. “The King already knows. Come with me.”

He turned around, knocked once loudly, released the heavy latches, and pushed the doors open. When he stepped through, she took a deep, steadying breath and followed him in.

It had been a long time since she had been in the chambers of the Elven High Council. Years. She had been a little girl then, trotting after her grandfather as he led her to this sanctuary where no one could enter uninvited. He had made it a special treat, a journey into a room where all the major decisions governing the Elven people were made, where laws were debated and passed, where honor was bestowed on those who had earned it and punishment visited on those who had transgressed. There had been such a mystery to it, and at the time it had seemed a huge, forbidding place. There had been no one but the two of them, and her grandfather, still fit and spry at eighty, had played leapfrog with her before the King’s throne.

She had been so happy that day. It had been such fun.