Chapter 64

  Where can you find hope?

  Lady Fouche had led the beastmen to their alcove, and with them their grievance. The Weeping Dragon Pass, famous for a long forgotten tragedy, was now the theater of a new farce.

  "Please, let's end this quickly…"

  When the demihumans started their woeful tale, Draudillon was reluctant to listen. Her silence was proof of her disdain, or so she believed. She could only remain quiet, as the presentations started.

  "I'm Zewedu Bogor Cadli Badan, prince of the nevayuus and current heir of the current Negus of the Bahaal Geesi…"

  Draudillon had perfected the art of diplomacy on countless occasions, adapting her smile to please those who saw her as only a tool to be disposed of, and sharpening the tongue to rebuke unkind insinuations.

  Remaining alert and attentive, without getting lost in easy and unfavorable conclusions, should have been simple.

  "I know who you are," she cut short the beastmen, quelling every desire of getting lost in long speeches. "The one who is feeding his people with mine. Why shouldn't I have your head exposed on a pike, and your followers condemned to the same fate, I ask?"

  At that juncture, her experience was stained by a burning hatred that was enkindling a pettiness surprising even for herself. For the queen, the mere presence at a negotiating table with the main architects of her people's suffering was an affront to them, above all, and to her, in spite of every consideration.

  Her interlocutor, self-proclaimed prince of the nevayuu, was now on his knees, demanding to be heard. How many people of the Draconic Kingdom had that simple right -that request hardly outrageous- denied by him and his actions? If there was no grievance to be found in their current misery, commiseration was absent too.

  "I understand if you don't want to grant us an audience," Zewedu lowered his head, the white fur cascading downward like pure snow. Did he suffer from the heat in such conditions? "With just one word from you, I will take my retinue and return from where we came…"

  He was young, Draudillon judged. Rulership, wisdom and proficiency in the matters of state were amiss in him. Despite all that, there was a regal bearing, which highlighted an education marked by leadership. And sacrifice.

  The same foolishness engrained in her since birth. Grandfather would have been proud, she thought.

  Peeking at the others beside him, the queen understood in an instant from where they were gathering the last scraps of energy that allowed their scattered and battered group to conserve a parvence of dignity.

  "For the last decades, you have used this kingdom as your playground," she accused, unrepentant in her lack of tact. "You basked in the glory our suffering brought your warriors, and fed your ambition with our sorrow. Now that madness was unleashed by your actions in these lands, you dare to ask for help, forgetting the last centuries and straining what little respect I could have for your kind."

  That meeting had been staged hastily, in the middle of nowhere. A palanquin equipped to shelter from the scorching rays of the sun, and a few chairs arranged to bring together the most important people.

  All alone, with no one to witness that historical meeting, fated to fade away like dust in the desert.

  "It's true what you say, queen of humans…"

  With Draudillon were Optics, on one side, and Lady Fouche, on the other. It was the half-elf who had organized the meeting, and the queen of the Draconic Kingdom still wondered why she hadn't simply eliminated those beastmen on the spot, living up to her reputation as an executioner.

  With the prince was a giant nevayuu, big for even the standards of his kind, whose armament reflected the dazzling light of the sun on the shoulders and the fierce metal of the weapons on his sides. In other circumstances, that alone would have been enough for her to question her safety.

  "I am not the queen of humans," she hastily corrected, uncaring on how her manners could be interpreted. "I am the Draconic Kingdom's monarch. You could have at least remembered the name of the place you have plundered and reduced to ruins."

  To be honest, that meeting had been a good choice, if only for the information they might glean. Yet Draudillon could not muster any courtesy or compassion. Just keeping her mouth shut from spewing a torrent of insults was a superhuman effort that could not be sustained for much longer.

  The queen towered over the beastmen from a dizzying height, her only satisfaction derived from seeing everything she had always longed for prove to be fleeting and unsatisfying.

  "You have my apologies, queen of the Draconic Kingdom… For us, these have always been the hunting grounds… You should know, the strong prey on the weak, and if you can't protect what you have, expect it to be taken from you."

  An ancient philosophy, whose law was that of the strongest. Not out of place when you were on the dominant side. Despicable when you stood with those who suffered.

  "You are right, all things considered… And now that you are weak, tell me why shouldn't I be the one to take all you have…" How many times? How many times had Draudillon imagined the current situation? The beastmen, humbled and defeated, without nothing on their names, only begging for her mercy? Revenge was better served cold, and so the ice the woman felt in her chest wasn't out of place. "What would happen, if I were to refuse your request?"

  "We would die." A concise statement, removing all uncertainty.

  "And how would this affect me?"

  The nevayuu warrior next to Zewedu, silent until then, made to raise the head, and perhaps even the sword, but desisted with only a glance of Draudillon.

  No, it had not been her. If she could maintain composure without fearing dangers, it was only thanks to the two who ensured her safety.

  "I repeat… How would all of this affect me?"

  The possible answer was foreknown to Draudillon, and the impervious consequences were no less unknown to her. Nonetheless, she demanded to be satisfied by her enemy's pleas, as first compensation of all the hardships that had plagued her home until now.

  "The undead plague has already spread here… It is a matter of months, if not even days before this will become a new land of the unliving, like it has happened to Bahaal Geesi…" The prince spoke each word gravely, without sweetening his speech with false honey and useless flattery.

  "I am aware of that… The undead have aggravated the situation here even more than… your people had done in years past. Before, we feared for our lives. Now, we fear even what will await us after our deaths."

  Ensconcing her posture on the chair pillow, Draudillon fixed her eyes on the regal nevayuu, spying every intention of his with quick glances. That monster, who despite his young age could have easily devoured her on the spot if he had wanted to, remained still and subdued, not begging for forgiveness as Draudillon would have liked, but aware that his future was at the mercy of the queen.

  He sipped a glass of hot water, impervious to any form of self-respect. That lack of honor was the most obscene, most infuriating part.

  "I will not shy away from taking responsibility. We and you are now paying the price for our arrogance, but we can still resolve things. If we cooperate."

  Draudillon forced herself to remain unperturbed, while a stream of anger erupted in every fiber of her being. The nails of her fingers dug into the armrests, her heart pounding so furiously that the corset under her dress was about to burst.

  "And then? We could save our present, but what about the future? What will happen then? A promise of peace? A treaty of non-aggression? We could start to commerce, establish friendly relations? It all sounds good and well, until our flesh once again look appetizing to your fangs, our offspring seasoning for your banquets. If not you, it will be your children, or the children of your children."

  It was at that moment that the harsh truth dawned on her. There was no possibility of understanding. Trust was the only basis for cooperation. The nevayuu prince did no more than close his eyelids, while his people were agitated by her accusations.

  Let them be agitated, thought Draudillon.

  "My lady, listen to him," it was Optics, putting a comforting hand on her shoulders, to speak. "We are enemies, and nothing will change that. But it's not written anywhere that enemies can't face dangers together."

  "No… It's not written anywhere."

  Draudillon knew that the worker was right. She was aware that her blood made her the last one fit to judge. Her eyes searched for the answer in Lady Fouche's expression, who had remained quiet until then, without uttering contempt or suggesting revenge.

  The half-elf's countenance didn't conceal any hidden wisdom, or led to archaic secrets that would resolve every restlessness of the spirit with a simple glance. Would it have been easier in that case?

  "Isn't the Theocracy's doctrine against holding hands together with the enemy?" The queen asked.

  Antilene was caught off guard, but responded gracefully, as if she had prepared herself beforehand.

  "It is. But the doctrine also requires us to be flexible to the needs placed before us. The Cardinals encourage caution in matters of state, and are conscious that, in the face of a common danger, even those we normally fight against can be… Useful."

  The hypocrisy of that speech struck her deeply. Draudillon knew that Antilene was right, and had no trouble grasping the logic of such simple reasoning. For someone in her position, it was nothing more than common sense.

  Yet, for some strange reason, it sounded wrong. She had labeled the half-elf as an ethereal and mystical presence, detached from the common struggles of mortals, and hearing her talking in so earthly matters left the queen speechless.

  "In any case," Antilene continued. "Here the jurisdiction is of the Draconic Kingdom. I am no more than a guest. The last words are reserved for the crown of the Draconic Kingdom."

  "Your advice? I ask you not as a queen, but as a friend."

  "Listen to him." And the matter was settled. Why persist in stubbornness? The Six were right, or perhaps they were just having fun playing with her.

  Draudillon returned to point her attention to Zewedu, who had not interfered in that brief interruption; if capricious fate had an outcome in store, whether benign or malignant, would depend on that very moment.

  "How did it all start?"

  The nevayuu raised an eyebrow. Whether he was surprised or not, he paid attention to not show it.

  "I can't pinpoint a specific moment. After our defeat at Gelone, my father, the Negus, lost his grip on the other tribes. He risked losing his position, and this would have thrown Bahaal Geesi into chaos, leaving us vulnerable to your retaliation."

  As far as they knew from the information they had gathered, Negus was nothing more than a temporary title, granted for short periods of time to the leader of the coalition of many small kingdoms that made up the territories of the beastmen; those territories that the nevayuus called Bahaal Geesi.

  "There is no such thing as a perfectly stable monarchy, nor is there a king who does not have to keep in check the ambitions of those who would like to take his place." Every different form of government was based on what Draudillon and other statesmen called 'exchange'. Those at the top offered benefits to those below in exchange for their services. When the balance was upset, discontent and possible unrest arose. "If a first defeat after years of triumph was enough, you lacked, first and foremost, a union that was advantageous to all."

  On the other side, the Draconic Kingdom had maintained a certain internal stability after numerous defeats. Although there was reason to be proud of this, it was difficult to indulge in complacency over such a small moral victory.

  "I cannot refute these claims. The Negus is a recently established elected office, alternating between the twelve rulers of Bahaal Geesi, but more endowed with prestige than any real power. My father... And my uncle wanted to change all that."

  "How so?"

  "Establishing an hereditary dynasty who would rule above all Bahaal Geesi. This way, we could focus all the resources towards external problems, and not be hindered by petty matters."

  Hearing all this caused conflicting feelings in Draudillon, who had to stifle any possible objections. The prospect of internal strife among her opponents made the queen realize how great the difference between humans and non-humans really was.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  In the event that the beastmen descended on them with a single force, how long could they possibly hold out?

  "Building a lasting dynasty is not something that can be achieved in a single generation..."

  "My uncle would have agreed with you, queen of the Draconic Kingdom. My father, however, had a reason to think otherwise."

  "Which one?"

  To Draudillon's puzzled expression, Zewedu gave his response pointing his index finger toward her.

  "You."

  "Me?"

  The nevayuu nodded. "My father had studied the history of your human nation, and came to the conclusion that there was something that made your house still standing in the face of challenging odds."

  Draudillon couldn't contain her curiosity. "Tell me what it is," she urged, unable to stop herself from biting her lip with anxiety. "But I'm sure that once I hear it, I won't be able to help laughing at your mistake."

  "It is respect…" The prince said, with a certain solemnity. "And reverence. The blood of a dragon flows through your veins, and your authority is still linked to that exercised in years past by your founder. Most of all, your subjects do not see you, but the Brightness Dragon Lord. This is not something easy to achieve. Not many can boast a power comparable to that of a dragon lord."

  Draudillon discovered her wrists; in the end, it was in those veins that the explanation for everything lay.

  "This is true… My grandfather's legacy still acts as a shield, but that protection has long been casted away. The Draconic Kingdom has long lost its dragon, and what remains is only… me."

  Less imponent and less… Fearsome, all things considered.

  "That's what my uncle thought… If only my father had shared his viewpoint. The Goddess has a strange sense of humor. The wise one was the warrior, not the ruler."

  "What do you mean?" Raising an eyebrow, Draudillon wanted to delve further in what she had heard.

  "I don't know the details… Someone from the far east offered my father a deal… The White woman she was called… As if she had poured honey into their ears, her words enchanted anyone who had the misfortune, or good fortune, depending on your point of view, to listen to her. I myself, captivated by that fairy-like voice, listened spellbound to her words more than once, catapulted into a dimension where every dream was more concrete than reality, and every reality more beautiful than a dream. From there, things went astray…"

  Recalling must have been difficult, because Zebewu stopped, overcome by a pain that left no room for haste. "I remember a night when my uncle and father had a discussion, with the former leaving in the throes of anger. I don't know many details, as I was confined in the royal palace. It was Ashiramn, here, who had me escape my prison. I have not seen my father in months… Nor the other kings and queens of Bahaal Geesi. The night we left the capital, there was almost no soul in sight."

  The bodyguard next to him, Ashiramn, nodded. "I was employed by the prince's uncle, Quaabiil Boqor Dagaa Lyahan, and served under him and the current Negus for decades. I don't know exactly what happened... It started with a few soldiers being sent here on routine missions, nothing that would make us suspect anything sinister. It was a great honor and an enviable position. No one was told about the experiments they would have to undergo... It was strange, we were told that using the undead was just a way to keep up with humans and restore the lost balance. Then some corpses began to disappear, and with the White Woman came other hooded figures. The Negus knew what they were, or at least I am sure he suspected it, but did not give it any significance."

  The story continued as such: people who continued to disappear, first with flattering pretexts, then always more and more superfluous.

  "There was no rebellion? No one tried to stop all of this?"

  It was not merely a cultural difference that marked the wonder and horror of that story: the most miserable part of it all was how every fragility, every mistake could be attributed to a nature that manifested itself differently in appearance but not in spirit. The thirst for victory demanded to be satisfied with such insistence, and Draudillon did not know—or perhaps simply did not dare—to ask herself how far it would have gone if the roles had been reversed.

  "Not from what I know, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were many. As I said, all the public matters started to be stopped to be brought to my attention," the prince said, showing his fangs to emit an unpleasant sound, akin to a moan. "Servants were my only contact with the external world, and for my father's orders what they could share was limited. My father himself… Was not the same anymore… Like he was someone else…"

  "Effect of magic, perhaps?" Draudillon thought of the uses of charm magic, and the dangers it could pose in government affairs. She herself had a collection of items specialized in countering such threats. It was hard to imagine that the same wasn't for the demihuman's royalty, who usually had as many resources at their disposal, if not more.

  Zewebu and Ashriamn's equipment was made of pure orichalcum, sparkling like stars and of immense value. The same was true of their necklaces and rings, boots and gloves. Their escape had been hastily planned, but that hadn't stopped them from grabbing as many treasures as they could.

  "No… I don't think so. I am no expert in magic, and while we excel in spiritual spells, we have gained some hindsight in divine and arcane schools in the last years. The Negus, my father, had also a great interest in magic and could boast a first-rate collection to protect himself."

  Draudillon reflected on the possible implications. Magic was not a certainty, and there were too many gray areas in the discipline to exploit, too many to be considered an implausible explanation. On the other hand, there was something else that bothered her.

  It was Lady Fouche who voiced her thoughts.

  "Magic is a possibility to consider for sure. But it could be something far simpler."

  "What?" urged the young nevayuu.

  "Ambition. Power. Desire. A promise of eternity masked by friendship and sweet prospects. Your father followed in the footsteps of many before him, boy. Greed is the worst form of corruption, and this White Lady was no more than an avatar of your shortcomings."

  The half-elf's blunt explanation shattered the beastmen's last certainties.

  "No... My father could never..." But no objection was raised in the end. Even his retinee did not utter a word, nor did they raise a word in defense of the one to whom they had sworn allegiance. Perhaps they already knew, and were just waiting for the right way and opportunity to inflict that truth on their inexperienced lord.

  "I've seen many," this time it was Optics who spoke. The worker had an unusually serious expression, which clashed with his quick speech and lack of frivolity. "You always believe that there is something supernatural that justifies the change. You can't accept that the person you loved has simply become a son of a bitch, or perhaps always was one, and you never noticed. Magic is, in a way, comforting because it provides an easy escape route that allows us to believe we were never wrong."

  "In any case, it's of no interest what really happened," Draudillon interrupted those trivial discussions, bringing the attention back to the topic under scrutiny. "Your father has to be eliminated, at this point. If you want to cease hostilities, these are my conditions. A complete erasure of Bhaal Geesi's current chain of command."

  Zewebu was so disheartened that didn't even try to mount an objection. "Leaving my father aside, plotting to eliminate the other kings and queens of Bahaal Geesi would be high treason… But it is also true that the coalition is collapsing, and now each of the individual leaders is trying to grab as much as possible to emerge as the new Negus."

  All according to Lady Fouche's plan. The perspective of the dragon lords' relics had served as good bait for bees, and the queen couldn't be more happy about it.

  "Then this matter it's settled. Of course, there will be a lot of things to discuss, and I don't want to believe that a future treaty will be enough to establish an eternal peace, but we could spare a couple of generations the horror of war, with your help."

  The queen exchanged a cast a sidelong glance at the half-elf, who had remained unperturbed by that proposal. The current relations with the Theocracy prevented friendship agreements with non-humans, so there would have to be a renegotiation with the Cardinals as soon as possible. In the meantime, it was Draudillon's job to take as much time as possible so as not to miss the opportunity.

  "There is only one thing left," she pointed to the young prince. "You, and your retinue. What kind of advantage can you bring to us?"

  Letting itself float in the air, the body lost its consistency. Flying was forbidden, but rising up, lifting one's feet off the ground, even though the sky was inaccessible, could be enough of a distraction.

  A few meters higher was all it took for the world to take on a whole new perspective.

  "Antilene, are you here?"

  "No 'Lady Fouche?' "

  The half-elf approached, imbued with an evil aura. Yet she did not seem dangerous. Draudillon could sense that the murder intent wasn't direct to her. She was... comforting, in a way.

  "Let's skip the formalities. When this is all over, we don't know when we'll see each other again, and I don't want us to part as strangers. Do you agree?"

  She could be allowed a little selfishness in all this. She still had the crown on her head, but Draudillon didn't expect to be able to let her hair down.

  "If you wish... I don't see Optics around here."

  "I told him to keep an eye on the beastmen. We can't take them with us to the Biblo fortress, and someone should be able to make sure they don't pull any tricks while we are busy."

  "Do you think they'll betray us? After all they've been through?"

  "I don't believe anything. If the possibility exists, I have to be aware of it. That's what being a leader means."

  "Your reasoning has a point. Let's hope your judgment is well founded. Not that I have to complain."

  "Shouldn't our roles be reversed?" It was Draudillon who should have shown trust, and the girl from the Theocracy who should have been doubtful.

  "I'm the one who brought them to you. It would have been rather hypocritical to tell you not to trust them."

  The enigma that was the half-elf found no explanation. Perhaps people, human or otherwise, could not be studied like a book or a story. It was the contradictions that showed consistency.

  "...We have a long journey ahead of us. Are you sure you want to do this now?"

  "The prince's information proved to be correct. Why delay?"

  "Because..." But the half-elf was already gone.

  For a moment, Antilene was out of sight. The horizon was being painted in crimson hues, gentle strokes on a blank canvas without borders.

  "A blow to the left, and the formation is in turmoil. The demihumans didn't even see you coming. The magic shaped the ground on your feet, but without being able to restrain you. The weapons grazed your image, getting caught in the parvence of movement. So much blood... The wolfmen are now halved."

  She had been too fast. The peaceful sunset would not stop the sun from rising in those conditions.

  "There were ten of them on the right. They aimed for the legs and arms. I countered their assault, directing their aims at my after-image." Antilene said it without flinching, holding back further comments. "They're getting smarter. Enchanters specializing in buffs also have a smattering of close combat skills and act as mobile support at the forefront. Meanwhile, archers and arcanists are trained to spot the right moment to fire their projectiles. But the latter especially lack experience and are sloppy in their execution and power.

  "You've got something stuck there," Draudillon turned, pointing to some unpleasant remains stuck in the half-elf's armor, at shoulder height. "Such untidiness is not befitting of a queen."

  "You're right... I must be more careful."

  "It wouldn't happen if you concentrated more. You shouldn't let them escape." But Antilene had disappeared again, not giving Draudillon a chance to finish. Why couldn't she cast [Message]?

  She felt so useless, torn apart by the constant need for protection.

  "There is no danger of it. Did you see that blow?"

  "Five in one. Is it a new record? Maybe you could try with a lounge from…"

  In front of Draudillon, the disaster unfolding was indistinguishable from any other landscape.

  Standing there watching from a safe distance made it seem unreal, like something out of a fantasy. It was as if someone had told her an unfounded story, and her imagination was filling in the gaps.

  "Did you say something?"

  "I was about to do it, before... What's that?"

  The half-elf placed something at her feet. It was a beastman's head, staring in shock, its expression still frozen in fear and amazement, at the queen of the Draconic Kingdom. Draudillon stared back, filled with disgust.

  "A head."

  It was, without a doubt, a head. No one could argue with that.

  "Is he the king?"

  Antilene shrugged, sitting down next to her again.

  "If Zewedu was sincere, every tribe favors strength for leadership, more than anything else. It is common practice for demihumans to choose as their leader the one who could best protect them in difficult situations. Survival instinct, I suppose."

  "You are also the current queen of the elves, and the strongest of their kind too."

  "I guess…" Antilene cleaned herself up, polishing her white armor with a cloth that became soaked with dirt.

  Draudillon stepped back down to the ground, her bare feet tickled by the grass.

  "And this was supposed to be the strongest of the wolfmen?" The size of what remained of the alleged king was remarkable, but without a comparison it would be difficult to establish for sure.

  "I think so," Antilene scratched her cheek, expressing an embarrassment that would have been more appropriate for a girl unfamiliar with such cruelty. "His broadsword was faster than the others, and many demihumans sacrificed themselves in an attempt to protect him. His equipment was also of a higher class than normal. Optics will be able to confirm this once he's finished looting them."

  Draudillon took the head in her lap, imagining she would find comfort in seeing one of the main culprits of her home's ruin in such a pitiful condition.

  Ultimately, she wondered only why such circumstances were bound to lead to disappointment.

  "Nice earring. Do you mind if I take it? I don't think he'll have much use for it now."

  "Go ahead. But technically, that belongs to Optics too."

  Draudillon snorted but left the jewel where it was. "A shame. Perhaps he managed to buy it with the spoils from here."

  "Perhaps..."

  "Shouldn't that give me the right to take back everything that was stolen from me?"

  "If you think it's right, go ahead. The important thing is to stand firm in your convictions."

  Draudillon lay down on the ground, not caring if she or her silky dress got dirty. It was liberating, for once, not to worry too much about etiquette.

  "How many more are there?"

  "I don't know... A couple, and then Zewebu can take their heads to the others and convince them to rebel fully against his father. He'll lure them all to a place of our choosing, and then you'll take them out in one fell swoop."

  Antilene whistled, as if trying to emulate the sound of the blowing wind. It sounded more like a child trying to imitate the sound of a large explosion. It was a clumsy attempt, but cute enough to lighten Draudillon's mood.

  "You mean you will eliminate them."

  "Let's not get too hung up on semantics."

  The clouds began to disappear, leaving room for night to make its entrance.

  "I wish this whole charade were something more. I wish I had the power you have, granted to you by your gods. Instead, I'm just a poor woman, unable to protect anyone. My magic is just a trick."

  "Power is not something to yearn for or envy. It's just something you have or don't have," Antilene replied, a bitter melancholy seeping from her lips. "But I understand why you want it. Desire arises from lack. Just as you desire my strength, I desire your wisdom. There are individuals in this world stronger than me, who in turn may yearn for something I take for granted."

  Draudillon looked at the half-elf, her savior, and felt a sense of guilt gnawing at her chest.

  "Ancient magic is the magic of the world, the secret that reveals itself as a banal truth. My grandfather once explained this to me."

  She returned to her younger appearance, her wrinkles gone and the skin softer. Each time, it was like wearing a dress that would never fit her properly.

  "The Brightness Dragon Lord?"

  "Yes. With ancient magic, you don't create power, you don't subjugate ancestral forces as tier magic does. Why create storms when storms already exist? When I say 'Draudillon Oriculus is young,' I don't become young, because I've always been this way. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow," Draudillon lowered her head, trying to hide her self-contempt. "Or, at least, that's how it should be. My soul does not change, but it remains only an illusion. The corruption of the eight has spread to such an extent that it has poisoned even the truth. No... I am simply incompetent when compared to my grandfather."

  Saying it out loud didn't make it any easier to accept.

  "I don't think I understand very well," said Antilene.

  Draudillon laughed, feeling her throat redden at the slight effort. "Neither do I, to be honest. During my lessons, my grandfather had to explain this point to me more than once, and many details are still unclear to me."

  Come to think of it, he had never lost his patience despite her inability. Draudillon had never thought of her ancestor as affectionate, but those moments, so distant yet vivid to her, brought intense warmth to her heart. The warmth born of the knowledge that she was loved.

  "Should we go? We still have a lot to do, and Optics may not be the best diplomat."

  The magic of the Brightness Dragon Lord was truth. In comparison, that of the Queen of the Draconic Kingdom was only a pale imitation.

  "Let's stay here, just for a few minutes."

  Draudillon looked up at the new stars in the sky and wondered if they were looking back on her too.

  "As you wish," the half-elf lay down next to her.

  "Thank you."

  In knowing to not be alone, she was able to accept her past as, if not the sole, then at least the most important truth.