He paused, waiting on her response. She had no choice. “I would never betray the Elves, Grandfather. Never.” She exhaled sharply. “I accept your decision. I will do as you say.”

Emperowen Elessedil, King of the Elves, nodded slowly. “I am satisfied. The matter is settled. This Council is adjourned.”

14

“APHENGLOW!”

She hadn’t quite reached the Council chamber doors when her uncle’s voice brought her about. Ellich was coming toward her, beckoning for her to wait for him. The other members were filing out, moving past her without glancing over, their expressions grave.

When Phaedon walked by he gave her a smile that was neither pleasant nor encouraging. “Good luck, Aphenglow,” he whispered.

Ellich hurried over. “Your grandfather wants to see you in his private chambers at the palace. I’m to take you to him.” He glanced over at Phaedon’s departing back. “My nephew. What a waste. Ignore him. Everyone else does.”

She didn’t believe it for a minute, but she appreciated his efforts at trying to cheer her up. She was still trying to come to terms with her grandfather’s decision to let her use the Elfstones but only here in Arborlon. She had thought all along that she would either be given the Elfstones to take with her or refused altogether. Given this new wrinkle, she would have to readjust her thinking. She would get half of what she had asked for, and she would have to make the most of it.

“I’m fine,” she told Ellich, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I doubt that. You were counting on your grandfather to do the right thing, and he allowed himself to be swayed. That can’t be easy to swallow. But what just happened is typical. A request is made. A proposal offered. Phaedon inevitably objects to all or part of whatever is voiced. My brother then splits the difference in the best way he can devise. But he will not go up against his son. There is a part of him that knows he should—even that he must—but he can’t seem to find his way to doing so.”

They were outside the Council chamber now, walking down the exterior hallway. She caught sight of Cymrian slipping through a set of doors far down the hallway. He glanced her way, gave a quick nod, and was gone.

“How long have things been like this?” she asked.

Ellich shrugged. “What year is it?”

So it was that bad. She should consider herself lucky, she realized. It could have been much worse. Fatal to her efforts, if her request had been denied altogether. She supposed she had never really thought that would happen, but she had been foolish not to anticipate that it might. Phaedon’s control over his father was much stronger than she had been led to believe.