“Then other Elves besides those few already in residence must come to Paranor to train with the Druid order. I have asked for this before, but it seems that to go to the Druids is to become an outcast.”

Her grandfather shook his head. “I cannot change the feelings of the Elven people, Aphen. I cannot alter history. When the Druids give us reason to trust them again, perhaps things will change.”

There was no point in pursuing this argument, and so she simply leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “At least we trust each other,” she whispered in his ear. She glanced at Ellich. “At least, the three of us share that trust.”

Her grandfather nodded, smiling. “We must make the best of things, mustn’t we, child?” He gripped her shoulders anew, then released her and rose. “I will give you the Elfstones now. Freely and willingly, in the way required, so that you may use them once, here within the confines of Arborlon. One time only, Aphen. Are we agreed?”

She smiled back. “We are.”

“Wait here.”

He disappeared through the chamber door and down the hallway leading deeper into the palace interior. She watched him go, and then sat quietly with Ellich, waiting for his return.

“He is doing what he can,” her uncle said finally.

“I know that.”

“He loves you.”

“I know that, too. I do not blame him for anything he does. I am grateful he does this much.”

“Not exactly what you had hoped for, though.”

“It will have to be enough.”

They sat together in silence after that, listening to the muffled twitter of birdsong from the gardens and trees outside and the murmur of voices from somewhere deeper within the palace. Aphenglow stared out the chamber window at a fleet of passing clouds and wondered how she could best use the Elfstones. What strength would it require to summon the magic, what images should she attempt to conjure, what interpretation might she need to employ to understand what she was shown? She knew how the blue Elfstones were meant to work, but she had never seen them used or ever thought that she would be the one to use them.

It should be the Ard Rhys who summons their magic. It should be Khyber Elessedil doing this.

But that choice had not been given her. She was the one who would have to manage the summoning, and she was not at all sure she was equal to the task.

Her grandfather, when he returned, came through the door quickly and quietly, almost as if fearful that he had been followed. He locked the door behind him, sat down again beside her, and held out his hand. His fingers gripped the drawstrings of a small leather pouch.