“She’s beginning to understand,” Feena whispered, glancing toward the king’s empty chair. “She knows we will stay here… and I believe she knows, and fears, she will serve the king.”
Elara’s stomach tightened. “How? She cannot hear what’s been said.”
Feena turned weary eyes on her. “It took me time to learn how she senses what others miss. Touch, expressions, the weight of a room, the way men stand, the way fear fills the air. She feels it all. And I cannot imagine the joy it must bring her at times and other times how it must terrorize her.”
Adira lifted her head, watching their faces with anxious attention, as though piecing together a puzzle she wished to understand.
Feena smoothed a hand over the lass’s braid. “She will adjust in time.”
It was easy to hear that Feena sounded more hopeful than certain and before Elara could comment, a subtle shift rippled through the hall. Adira must have felt it too, since her eyes widened and she turned toward the door.
Elara heard it then, bootsteps, firm and measured.
The door swung open and Dar strode into the Great Hall with the effortless command of a man accustomed to being obeyed. The morning light cut across his broad shoulders and the dark leather he still wore, marking him unmistakably as a Hunter. Yet his eyes, those storm-gray eyes, softened the moment they found hers.
He crossed the space with powerful strides, the kind that drew more than a few curious glances from those seated nearby. Even Adira watched him warily.
Elara rose when he reached her, heat fluttering unexpectedly through her chest.
“You came sooner than I thought,” she said.
He cast a quick glance at her plate, only half the food eaten. “You haven’t finished your meal.”
“I have eaten enough to satisfy me,” she assured him. “But you need to eat.”
“I have,” he said abruptly. “We leave shortly.”
Sooner than he had said and Elara saw how anxious he was to do so. Did he fear staying longer than needed? Did he worry the king would make more demands on them? Or was his worry for her, since his gaze kept sweeping protectively over her?
She nodded, more than willing to take their leave as soon as possible, but first there was something she needed to see to.
“I must find Maelis before we leave. I want to make sure she’s all right… and that she’s being sent home to Birkfell.”
“The Hunters are gathering the healers now. The first group will leave within the hour. I’ll take you to her, but you cannot linger.”
Relief brought a soft smile to Elara’s face. “I won’t. I just want to make sure she is well and soon to go home.”
He reached for her hand, the gesture instinctive, protective. “Come. If she hasn’t already been taken to the carts, she will be soon.”
As his fingers closed around hers, warm and steady, Adira watched them, a faint, soft smile spreading across her face, and Feena offered Elara a reassuring nod.
Elara returned it, then let Dar lead her from the Great Hall, her pulse quickening at both the urgency of their errand… and the man at her side.
The courtyard behind the castle hummed with movement, healers gathering in groups, carts waiting, horses stomping restlessly, and the king’s warriors barking commands.
Dar led Elara through the bustle, his hand remaining locked with hers. When they reached a wagon draped with wool blankets, he halted.
A young Hunter hurried toward him. “Commander Dar,” he called, breathless, “the king summons you.”
Dar’s jaw tightened in annoyance as he turned to Elara, his voice firm. “Wait here. Here, Elara. Do not wander. Do not go anywhere without me. I will have your word on it.”
“You have my word,” she said. “I will be here looking for Maelis.”
His gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat longer, as if unsure whether he should leave her, then he turned to the young Hunter. “Make haste and take me to the king.”
He strode off, his gait swift and determined.
Elara turned her attention to the line of carts and healers preparing for departure, her eyes darting over every weary face. Then she saw her, leaning against the side of a wool-covered cart as though bracing her tired limbs, her familiar shawl slipping from one shoulder, her hair pulled back in a loose knot.