Aphenglow had not argued the point. Her only regret was that her need to leave now prevented her from accessing and searching through the Chosen histories for information on Aleia Omarossian as she had planned. But that could wait for another day. For now, she must go to a safer place and impart what she had learned through the use of the blue Elfstones to the Ard Rhys.

Any doubts she had harbored about Cymrian had been erased in the aftermath of his rescue efforts. After finding her in spite of her efforts to lose him, he had stood alone against five trained, experienced assassins, men bearing the distinctive eagle mark of a well-known Federation-connected league—who should have been able to overcome a single defender with little difficulty. He had killed all five. Not intentionally; he had hoped to take one alive to question. But in a struggle of this sort, it was difficult to hold back—a point brought home graphically to Aphenglow when she had taken the life of her last assailant and discovered how quickly you needed to react and how little time you were allowed to measure the force required to save yourself.

In both instances, she was lucky to be alive. She was grateful to Cymrian, and she had told him so.

Even so, there was still something about him that troubled her. She had resolved to find out what it was.

Arlingfant seemed to have no similar reservations. She and Cymrian had formed a fast friendship that had grown stronger since they had embarked on the Wend-A-Way back to Paranor. Joking, laughing, and very much at ease with each other, they had bonded quickly—so much so that Aphenglow felt a twinge of jealously in spite of herself at not being an equal partner in this friendship.

Mostly, though, she just felt disgruntled and troubled by the circumstances of her own situation.

And, she admitted, staring out the window into the gray of the late-afternoon sky, rain clouds forming up to the west, she was worried about Bombax, the only member of the order who had gone out and not yet returned.

This was not all that unusual. Bombax was headstrong, independent, and had a long history of coming and going on his own terms and according to his own timetable. Because he was so experienced, the other Druids did not worry for him as they might have for one another. In fact, they barely gave it a thought. But they were not in love with him as Aphenglow was; they had not chosen him as a life partner.

They did not sense when something was wrong as strongly as Aphenglow did.