“My cousin did not return,” Zachary said.

“No,” Colin replied. “Willis said he was not among the dead or injured, and was fine when last he saw him. We can only conclude he went in pursuit of the abductors immediately.”

What Zachary thought of this he did not say. “The fog Willis mentioned, it sounds like magic.”

“He said it was unnatural,” Laren recalled. “I agree.”

“The Eletians will have to be questioned.”

Laren thought that would be an interesting discussion.

Neff the herald rushed through the throne room doors and down the runner. He dropped to his knee before the dais. “Eletians, my lord, from the encampment. Three have come to speak to you.”

Laren and Zachary exchanged glances, stunned by the uncanny timing.

“Send them—” Zachary began, but the Eletians had already entered the throne room and were gliding down the runner.

They came unarmed, but the guards in the throne room moved in closer to their king, hands on the hilts of their swords. The Eletians did not appear intimidated in the least, their stride unflagging, their features unperturbed. Leading them was the one who had been their guide in Prince Jametari’s tent that day, his sister. She wore a gray-green cloak about her shoulders. But for a few thin, looping braids, her pale hair was unbound and flowed to the small of her back.

The other two Eletians, males, followed behind her, and were similarly attired in gray-green. Sunlight slanted through the throne room windows and played across their hair and brightened their faces as though pulled to them.

The woman in the lead knelt before Zachary, followed in turn by her companions.

“Greetings, Firebrand,” she said. “My brother bade us speak to you in this troubled time.”

Zachary indicated they should rise. “And what troubled time does Prince Jametari think this?”

“Little passes without our notice, especially that of our Ari-matiel. We are aware that your lady has been taken from you.”

Zachary’s eyes narrowed just a hint. “We have only just heard the news ourselves. How is it the Eletians know so much?”

“We have different ways of knowing,” the woman replied. “We hear the voice of the forest carried along the stream that flows through our camp. We felt a small surge of magic in the woods west of us, and the tale is told to us by limb, by leaf, by breath of wind.”

Old Sperren, leaning on his staff of office, quaked to life beneath his cloak. “How do we know you did not take Lady Estora yourselves?”

“He knows,” the woman said, gazing at Zachary. “Deep inside he knows the truth of it. We have nothing to gain by seizing this land’s future queen and everything to lose. There is another power at work in the lands. You may ask your Green Rider captain if we speak truth.”

Laren’s eyes widened. How did they know the nature of her special ability?

“Laren?” Zachary said.

She brushed her fingers over her brooch. It warmed to her touch, and she felt nothing but harmony, no sense of falsehood or deception. Only peace. The voice of her ability fairly hummed with truth. Astounded, she nodded to the king.

Zachary relaxed perceptibly. “What is this other power you speak of?”

“It is something we’ve been aware of since summer,” the Eletian said, “when so much was awakened and stirred up. However, when all else settled, this did not. We know not its shape or intent, only that it lies westward, and that it was behind the surge of magic we felt in the woods. We feel that your rescue party will track the abductors westward toward the source.”

Colin called one of his Weapons over and spoke quietly to him. The Weapon trotted out of the throne room.

“And this is what brings you forth from your encampment?” Zachary asked.

“We had no desire for blame to be mislaid upon us, and wish for you not to fear us as a threat. That was your line of thought, was it not?” She eyed them each in turn. “And our Ari-matiel sends words, for he is one gifted with foresight, and you may use his words as you will. Telagioth?”

One of the men stepped forward and put his hands before him, palms upward. Laren expected some enchantment to arise from them, at least some glow of light, but it did not. He simply spoke: “Ari-matiel Jametari says, ‘The golden lady shall find safety only in green. A time shall come when black shrouds green, and among the dead a voice shall speak of stone.’”

Silence followed until Sperren sputtered, “What in the five hells is that supposed to mean?”

“We do not know,” the woman said, “though we assume ‘golden lady’ refers to the one who was taken. Our Ari-matiel does not interpret his words. Often he does not remember their speaking. It is up to the recipients to find the meaning.”

“Worthless,” Sperren muttered.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” the woman said.

With that, and without seeking leave, the Eletians bowed and departed. Once they exited the throne room, everything was cast into its ordinary gloom and felt tired, as though the sun had moved behind the clouds.

Later that evening, Laren mulled over the day’s events as she wandered down to the Rider wing of the castle. The company of Weapons and her two Riders had set out in pursuit of Lady Estora hours ago, and there was much to think on. The parameters of the situation staggered her. Possible civil war with the eastern provinces, loss of confidence in Zachary by his people. If he could not protect their future queen, how could he protect them? If anything happened to Lady Estora, she could see only disaster, and who knew what was brewing in Blackveil. They could all be caught up in internal fighting when suddenly the threat of Blackveil descended on them.