He stood on the balcony, trying to steady himself. He had always known these things would come to be, always been aware of what was to come. That did not make things easier. There was just too much for his mind to accept it all as it came. This view of the kingdom had always calmed him, but not on this night… She was almost to his room, would momentarily silently approach him from behind, lay a gentle hand on his back, and want answers.
And then she was there, her hand trembling as the weight of it was transferred from her arm to between his shoulder blades. He longed to grab her in his arms. Give her comfort. Tell her it would all be better soon. She was like a daughter to him. He was there at her birth, held her as she emerged from the womb. Every milestone of her growth, every joy and every sorrow of her existence, he was there. He could not lie to her.
Her hand tensed slightly as she steeled herself to speak. “Eleison,” she breathed, her voice carrying the fear of the answers to her questions. “Any news of my brother?” Starting safe. She knew there was not. His “no” was countered by a slight sigh.
“Is Orin truly all right? They will not let me see him. They said you demanded no visitors. Will you not let me go to him?” Orindain, son of Oberon, for how long had she hidden her love for him? A much more difficult question for her, but not what she had come to ask. To demand.
“Orin will recover, he is very weak now, and will be for a time. He is strong though, he will be well, and you may visit him soon.”
“I cannot believe he did such a foolish thing. For a human girl!” The last to words conveyed a disgust she did not normally feel. “He was supposed to be searching for my brother, bringing him home, instead…”
“Instead he did what your brother would have wanted him to do. What your brother would have done.” He bit his tongue to keep from adding, “But not for the same reasons.”
Her voice softened, “I can see him soon though?”
“Yes, Aelysia, by this time tomorrow, you will be sitting by his bed.” The tension in her hand momentarily lessened the returned more forcefully. Now for what she really wanted.
“Will you not tell me what has happened to my father?” In his mind flickered a vision of her father, Thaeron, the king, lying on a marble alter, encased in glass. Not dead, but not quite alive either.
“You know I cannot. Could I, you know I would.”
“Look at me, Eleison.” He did now wish to. He knew the sadness in her eyes without looking. There was no desire in him to actually see such pain in her for real. But he did. And her eyes tore at him.
“Tell me now, I beg you. I know the future is as clear to you as this moment. Will he be like this forever? Will he lay there… like that… forever? Tell me! Give me some hope, or allow me to begin to accept this fate. Will my father rise again, or will I always be missing his laughter?” The tears ran in streams down her face. He pulled her into his arms.
“Do not torture me like this. If I could say, I would not dream of holding it from you. But you know I cannot speak of such things. But never lose hope. Friends are on their way. Help is coming.” He placed his lips close to her ears and whispered a name.
She stepped back and stared into his eyes once again. Lyardaan. The name sent a chill through her body. But with it, with it was hope.
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