Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(28)

Dragos, Beluviel. Her mother. It was easy, she thought, to speak of ancient beings without really taking in just what that meant until the reality hit home at moments like this.

Someday, someone might look at her and realize the same thing. But nobody would look at her that way for a long, long time. She was just in her twenties, which was young by human standards, and she had mated with one of the oldest known creatures in the world. How could she expect to become his partner in anything? Even worse, how could she expect him to accept it? It was beyond crazy. Discouragement turned her limbs leaden.

While she tumbled into her private funk, Elves brushed off the top of the table and laid out flasks of wine and water, along with fruit, nuts and stacks of their indescribably delicious wayfarer bread. At the end farthest from Pia and Beluviel, they set out a variety of meats and cheeses.

Pia’s mouth watered at the sight of the loaves. She had eaten Elven wayfarer bread just once in her life, when she and Dragos had been kidnapped by Goblins and imprisoned in an Other land, and she had never forgotten the taste.

She glanced upward, but the sky was too obscured by thick tree branches and clouds to see the sun. It wouldn’t sound good to ask how soon she might be able to go to bed. “How long is the journey from here?”

“We’ll arrive before dark,” Beluviel said. “Sunset is around five thirty, which is something around forty-five minutes later than New York at this time of year. That is, if you’re up for the rest of the trip? There are a few quite comfortable cabins just an hour away if you would rather stop.”

“Not at all,” Pia told her. “I think we should travel the whole distance today.” After all the sooner she got there, the sooner she could talk with Calondir, accomplish what she came to do and go home.

She was not well adjusted at all. Most people would be thrilled at the rare privilege to see inside the Wood and travel into the heart of the Elven demesne. All she did was think about leaving as soon as she could.

Because she might have put too positive a spin on Dragos’s texts. The tricky thing about terseness was that it left so much open to interpretation, and he had only sent her nine words in total.

And it was probably pathetic that she had counted them.

Her stomach tried to clench up on her again. She shoved away the impulse and focused on eating. The other Wyr cycled behind her, always keeping two on duty while the others ate. No one remarked or looked askance at that, although she noted Beluviel’s attendants did not keep the same kind of vigilance.

She tried to think of ways to ask Beluviel about the Numenlaurians’ impending visit but she couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject without sounding like she was prying, mainly because she would be prying. In the end she said nothing, opting to wait, watch and listen. She could always ask questions later.

The group finished lunch quickly while their horses were watered, and soon they were on their way again. After traveling with her for another half an hour or so, Beluviel excused herself and moved forward to take the lead again.

An invisible hot poker settled at the base of Pia’s spine. The backache grew worse as the afternoon wore on, and her new boots rubbed blisters on her heels. The unsettled euphoria at having entered the Wood had worn off. Now its presence made her feel claustrophobic as it seemed to press on her from all sides. She could sense the crossover passage somewhere ahead as the group grew closer to it.

Eva never left her, although the other five Wyr took turns riding on her other side. Johnny and Andrea carried crossbows, and all the Wyr had swords strapped to their backs. Eva’s powerful body moved in lithe rhythm with her roan mare, her lean dark fingers handling the reins with confident ease as her black, alert gaze never stopped roaming over the scene.

Pia sank into a miserable haze, only jerking straighter as Eva said telepathically, You looking like something a cat coughed up again, princess. Need a break?

No, she said. She needed for the day to be over, and a break would only prolong her misery.

Eva turned to look her in the eyes. Are you sure, Pia?

She took a deep breath, and the muscles in her sore back throbbed while the peanut slept oblivious to it all, his energy strong and steady. Thank you, I’m sure.

You know, I don’t remember hearing Beluviel make any promises, Eva told her. In fact, I thought she sounded a little cagey.

What nonsense are you talking about now? She sighed and shifted in her saddle, but there wasn’t any position she could get into that would alleviate her discomfort.

The consort said “might” and “possibly” yesterday, Eva said. She hung with Calondir all these years, seems she could be more definite about whether or not the man would like it if you showed up on his doorstep. It’s possible he might not be as pleased as he could be. If the Numenlaurians arrive while you try to get his attention, you might be knocking yourself out like this for nothing.

She scowled. She hadn’t considered any of that. It had sounded to her like Beluviel was just being polite. Great. She grumbled, Just once I’d like you to say something I really want to hear. Besides, that’s all the more reason to push hard to get there. I need to try to talk with Calondir while I’ve got the chance.

Point, Eva admitted.

They rode for a while in silence. Just ahead, Miguel and the young Elven girl were sniping at each other again. Pia watched them as she thought. She asked Eva, Do you know anything about the prehuman war among the Elves?