Even as she was being carted back to her cottage, after the attack by the black-clad assailants and her rescue by Cymrian, her leg throbbing with pain and her mind awash with the consequences of her disability, she was recounting in her mind the details of what the Elfstones had shown her. She was afraid she would forget something if she didn’t, aware of the quixotic tricks memory could play if one failed to revisit its first impressions quickly. Later, aboard Wend-A-Way, she had taken the time to write it all down. The more she went back over it, the better her chances of not forgetting anything.

She was close to the end of her current perusal when she realized that all she was doing was finding a way to occupy her time. Confined to her bed, unable to participate in the preparations for the journey that would take the bulk of the Druid order in quest of the missing Elfstones, she was frustrated and bored and very much afraid that she might be the one who was left behind. No one had said so as yet, but the implications had been apparent after she gave her report. Condolences on the damage to her leg, regret that she would be bedridden for a week and splinted for two more, pitying looks. She was an adept at using her magic to heal, but there was only so much you could do with a break this bad. Cymrian had set it, her sister had wrapped it carefully, but she was disabled nevertheless.

Knowing she should not broach publicly the question of whether she would be allowed to go with the others, she had kept her peace. The time to ask would be later, in private. The one to ask—the only one who mattered—was the Ard Rhys.

She could hardly bear the waiting.

Arlingfant and Cymrian had accompanied her back to Paranor, taking charge of her safety and transportation in the wake of this latest attack on her person. She had tried to dissuade Arling from coming, insisting her duties as a Chosen came before caring for her sister—an assertion that was quickly brushed aside. Arling would not be missed for the time it took to see Aphenglow safely placed under the care of her fellow Druids.

Leaving Arborlon at once had not been a point of debate. Cymrian insisted she was no longer safe in her home city, the attack absolute proof that her purpose in coming back had somehow been compromised. There was no one aside from her family and himself she could trust and nothing further to be accomplished by remaining where she was. Better she be returned to the Druids, and Cymrian and Arlingfant were the right ones to see this was done. Cymrian could fly an airship and Arlingfant could see to the needs of her sister.