Aphenglow tried to conceal her alarm. This was her discovery, and she did not want to turn it over to someone else, especially Pleysia. “I can ask my uncle to assign an Elven Hunter to keep watch over me, if you wish. But I should do this, Mistress. I have the King’s permission already and have been given access to the records. Pleysia would have to start all over, and there is nothing to say that my grandfather would be favorably disposed toward anyone who is not a member of the royal family.”

The two women faced each other in silence for a moment, each knowing that the other understood perfectly the implications not only of what had just been said, but of what hadn’t, as well.

“I am not happy with the idea,” Khyber Elessedil said at last, “though I recognize the need for it. But you will secure protection, and you will make certain whoever you choose can protect you adequately. Agreed?”

Aphenglow nodded quickly. “I promise. I won’t stay any longer than it takes to complete my search of the Chosen histories. But they suffer from the same deficiencies as the others. There are gaps and omissions throughout, particularly from the early years when record keeping was less meticulous. Some of what was known then was recovered from personal journals and stories passed down from the families who lived in those times. But not all.”

“Do what you can.” The Ard Rhys took Aphenglow’s hands in her own. “I wish I had been awake and able to spend more time with you, Aphen,” she said suddenly. “You have great potential, great promise. You are skilled, and your mind is sharp. But I am troubled by the weight you bear in your heart. Choosing to come here, to leave your people and your city to serve us, left you little better than an exile in the eyes of many. Worse than that, in the eyes of a few. I know this causes you great pain.”

Aphenglow blushed at the unexpected praise. “It does. But I have made my choice and learned to live with it. I would not take it back now.”

“Even so, it is a burden, and it might never be lifted from your shoulders. No one should have to bear such a stigma, especially when it is so undeserved. I worry for you, Aphen.”

Aphenglow stared in surprise, unable to respond to such deep concern with anything remotely appropriate. Should she thank the Ard Rhys for her solicitude? Should she declare it unnecessary?

Khyber Elessedil saved her the trouble by releasing her hands and standing. “Woostra comes. I will hear his report now and pretend that I have heard nothing of it before.” She smiled. “I think I can do that well enough. So say nothing.”