The Damning Revelation
Betrys Gwillam, having heard more than enough of the adults' sniping, suddenly announced, "If Sir Linden wishes, he could marry me." It had the desired effect of bringing the table conversation to a halt.
"Betrys," Annwyn chided, "you are much too young to be married. And look what you have done."
Sir Linden had developed a noticeably green tint to his cheeks from the sudden attention. He was however perplexed that the Mage knew the details of his idle chatter with his horse. "Well," he thought, "not exactly my horse, but the one I rode in on." And then it dawned on him. He let out a hearty laugh. Turning to Lord Black, he winked. "I trust your lordship did not find the conversation along the way to be a burden."
"If anything, my good Sir, it spurred me onward." Lord Black offered his empty goblet to a passing servant carrying a pitcher of ale. He leaned in toward the knight. "Please forgive me for my earlier comment. I'm well aware that trees rarely marry outside their species."
Cynara watched Nerina slip some powder into Cedric's goblet. She placed her hand beneath the table and gripped the hilt of her sword.
"I wouldn't drink that, brother," Gilian warned. "The elf may have poisoned it." Cedric lifted the goblet to his lips and pretended to sip. Smiling, he winked at his younger brother before pouring the contents down the front of Nerina's dress.
Nerina and Greydawn rose out of their chairs. Greydawn snarled, "I have never in my life been so abused. May I remind you that we are your guests?"
"Guests do not plot against their hosts. Guests do not send assassins after other guests." Cynara glared at Greydawn.
"Calm, my child," Lord Black advised. "This is not a battlefield. Besides, it is my understanding that the elves do not want to offend the Dark. Is this not so, Master Greydawn?"
"Of course not, Lord Black. We would not be so foolish," Greydawn sputtered.
"Too bad the same cannot be said for the Eastern Empire. I was set upon by elves on my way here this morning. It left me in such a blind rage that I ended up challenged by the palace guard when I arrived." Cynara rose to her feet. "One of you is not who you pretend to be." Drawing her sword, Cynara assumed her dragon form. She pointed her sword across the table resting the tip against Nerina's throat.
"Have you gone mad?" Greydawn stammered, visibly shaking while Cynara lowered her sword slowly toward Nerina's heart. With a swift flick of her wrist, Cynara severed the necklace around the young elf's neck. Greydawn knocked over his chair as he withdrew from the stranger beside him.
No comments:
Post a Comment