Return of the Shirán (Elven Worlds, #3)

by R.K. Lander

Zedah felt older, even though she looked barely eighteen. She felt wiser, despite no longer possessing a crown or royal title. Her realisation that she’d been wrong, the sudden understanding that she was not all knowing, that her prior opinions had been based only on her own desires, that she had never understood the duty she’d been born into… it was like seeing herself from the outside, the good and the bad, the commendable and the reprehensible. The resulting mixture was Lady Zedah of Arlysia, exiled princess of Fort Arlys.

Panassar was on some strange crusade to mortify him. After the last episode, when the general had pushed him out of the squarrig and enjoyed it, Feldar had promised himself revenge. All he had to do was wait for the right moment to present itself. A bang, a scuffle, a strangled cry, and Feldar drew his dagger. He was before Panassar in a flash, eyes wide, searching for the danger that had thrown the general backwards against the wall. But there was nothing there. Feldar turned to Panassar, then followed his line of sight, downwards and to the floor. There, standing before them both, was a small lizard, its ruff puffed out around its head. The ruff disappeared, only to flap wide once more with a hiss. Panassar bared his teeth, but there was terror in his eyes. The lizard stood on its back legs and began to pedal forwards, and Panassar was gone in a flash, running for the door in a desperate panic, a squeak escaping his lips as he barrelled past Feldar. Laughter burst from Feldar’s mouth, first in the form of a chuckle, then a wheeze when the door wouldn’t open and the general pulled and pulled. The lizard was upon him, hissing and flapping its ruff at the same time.

The general had provided him with the perfect opportunity for revenge, one he would milk for as long as he could. At least now he knew why the tavern was called The Flying Lizard. With a silent chuckle, he moved back to the windowsill and resumed his silent vigil.

Zedah clenched her jaw, allowed her anger to show, even though her father had always taught her to hide it. “Why do you do that? Antagonise me? If we are to work together, can we not do so in harmony?” Ranoor huffed, then turned forward. “Harmony is a hard-earned state. It can’t be forced, imposed, or wished into being. You must show me your worth. Only then can I trust you. Only trust brings harmony.” “You’re cynical. The rumours about you are true then. You are cold and hard, unfeeling – and heartless.” Ranoor’s head whipped to Zedah. “Ignorant people are quick to judge. Are you one of them? Blabbermouths with nothing better to do than label people? Did your kingly father teach you nothing then?” Zedah was taken aback, not by Ranoor’s cutting words but by the impact that one word had on her. Her retort was slow coming. “My father… I don’t even know if he’s alive.” She had said it almost to herself, but Ranoor heard well enough. “And in answer to your question, captain, my father was a wise man. He taught me well. It was I who never listened.” Ranoor said nothing, and for a while, all they could hear was the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves, the occasional snort, the cry of a hunting bird overhead. “And in answer to your question, Zedah. I am not inconvenienced. The solitude will do me good. There will be time enough for battle – there always is. For now, you are my pupil. I will train you, watch you, respect you if you rise to the challenge. But if I see any sign of rev...

“We travelled south to continue with his training, and admittedly, we got into some unexpected trouble. But the distraction did him some good, and although he remained angry and without memories of his former life, time gave him perspective – until one day, they all came tumbling back to him. It took a long while for him to remember, mainly because his mind was working against him.

Llyniel screwed her eyes shut, swallowed a sob that almost escaped her. “It’s me that should throw herself at his feet, me! I just stood there, damn it, unable to free myself of Aralas’ clutches. I stood frozen as I watched my world stand still, my heart as it stopped, my soul as it faded away.” She stood so suddenly that her chair toppled backwards. “I just stood there and watched them die! I’m no mother, no lover, no soulmate. I deserve nothing but misery!”

Onara knelt behind her while Benzir crouched before her. “Had you run to them, you would have died, and before you tell me, ‘then so be it,’ listen to me. Feldar still hasn’t forgiven himself for what happened to Talanor, but if you had died with him, I promise you he would not be in this world any longer. You are a healer, not a warrior. There was nothing you could have done, even though your grieving mind wishes to tell you the opposite, to inflict more pain on you because you tell yourself you deserve it. Believe me, none of this was your fault. Lainon told Feldar this once when he finally broke. But he came back, and now so must you, so that you can both find each other and heal at last.”

You can’t give your heart and soul over to your work if you can’t feel it, can’t suffer it. You can never understand the plight of others if you cannot grieve with them.