know.”
“You don’t have a wife,” she said, playfully, an impish smile returning to her features, but still somehow less cheerful than it might have been a few moments before.
“Yet,” he said, and smiled back at her. “I—” A knock sounded at the door, causing him to frown. “Yes?” he called.
The door at the base of the stairs clicked open a crack to reveal a ranger, a human, thin and wiry with dark hair. “There’s an envoy to see you, sir,” she said, breathless from the ascent.
“From where?” Cyrus asked, frowning. He glanced at Vara, but she maintained her distance.
“Amti, sir.”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Cyrus said, pondering that one, “assemble the—”
“Orders already went out, sir,” the ranger said. “The envoy asked to meet with all of you.”
Cyrus felt his eyebrow rise. “Did they? How … presumptuous of them.” Giving orders already? I can’t imagine what sort of arrogant prig this elf must be—
“The order to assemble came from Lord Curatio, sir,” the ranger said. “He and Larana are speaking to the envoy even now.” The ranger lowered her voice, like she was passing on some form of forbidden knowledge. “They seem to know this lady envoy quite well, if I may say so.”
“What?” Cyrus blinked and looked at Vara, who held a look of undisguised curiosity of her own. “And yes, you may say so, along with anything else you know that might shed light on this mysterious envoy before I meet them face to face. What’s your name, young lady?”
The lady ranger paused for a moment, slipping just a little further inside the door. “Carisse Sevoux, m’lord. Of the Riverlands.”
Cyrus watched her, could see the bubbling excitement beneath her youthful facade. It was not well hidden. “Spill it, Carisse Sevoux. Who am I dealing with?”
“Only caught her name, sir,” Sevoux said with a hint of pride. “Said it was Cora.”
It took Cyrus a moment more to get there than it did Vara, who stiffened immediately. He started to reach out for her, but the elven paladin was already in motion, sprinting toward the stairs. Carisse Sevoux scarcely had time to dodge out of the way, flattening against the wall of the stairway trench before Vara shot past, her armored boots clanging hard with every step.
“It would appear Lady Vara knows this envoy as well,” Sevoux said as she pulled herself off the wall, lithe figure balancing on the tips of her toes, silent.
“She should,” Cyrus said, taking a breath as he moved toward the stairs himself. “I feel like I know her as well, though we’ve never met.”
Sevoux looked up at him, tanned face perplexed. “Sir?”
“Cora is the last surviving founder of Sanctuary,” Cyrus said, making his way down the stairs and opening the door for Carisse Sevoux, whose mouth opened just a hint in surprise. Can’t say I’m not surprised either , Cyrus thought as he let the ranger walk through the door first before stepping through and pulling it shut behind him. “And as far as I know, this is the first time she’s set foot in this place in … years.”
11.
Cyrus decided he liked Cora immediately, though it would have been hard not to. She was an elf, of course, but with hair that was a lustrous auburn, an unusual shade for elves in Cyrus’s experience. It reminded him of autumn foliage in the north for some reason, and her handshake was firm, her eyes clear and hazel when he looked into them. There was also a hint of familiarity about her in that regal bearing, the august presence he’d come to expect from elves. The dark blue cloak that she wore drawn about her shoulders hid spell caster vestments from his sight, hinting only that they were there by the small bit that stuck out of the collar.
“It is good to be back in this place,” Cora said in a light voice, less serious than many of the elves he’d met. They stood in the Council Chamber, around the table, with an extra chair pulled up to accommodate
“You don’t have a wife,” she said, playfully, an impish smile returning to her features, but still somehow less cheerful than it might have been a few moments before.
“Yet,” he said, and smiled back at her. “I—” A knock sounded at the door, causing him to frown. “Yes?” he called.
The door at the base of the stairs clicked open a crack to reveal a ranger, a human, thin and wiry with dark hair. “There’s an envoy to see you, sir,” she said, breathless from the ascent.
“From where?” Cyrus asked, frowning. He glanced at Vara, but she maintained her distance.
“Amti, sir.”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Cyrus said, pondering that one, “assemble the—”
“Orders already went out, sir,” the ranger said. “The envoy asked to meet with all of you.”
Cyrus felt his eyebrow rise. “Did they? How … presumptuous of them.” Giving orders already? I can’t imagine what sort of arrogant prig this elf must be—
“The order to assemble came from Lord Curatio, sir,” the ranger said. “He and Larana are speaking to the envoy even now.” The ranger lowered her voice, like she was passing on some form of forbidden knowledge. “They seem to know this lady envoy quite well, if I may say so.”
“What?” Cyrus blinked and looked at Vara, who held a look of undisguised curiosity of her own. “And yes, you may say so, along with anything else you know that might shed light on this mysterious envoy before I meet them face to face. What’s your name, young lady?”
The lady ranger paused for a moment, slipping just a little further inside the door. “Carisse Sevoux, m’lord. Of the Riverlands.”
Cyrus watched her, could see the bubbling excitement beneath her youthful facade. It was not well hidden. “Spill it, Carisse Sevoux. Who am I dealing with?”
“Only caught her name, sir,” Sevoux said with a hint of pride. “Said it was Cora.”
It took Cyrus a moment more to get there than it did Vara, who stiffened immediately. He started to reach out for her, but the elven paladin was already in motion, sprinting toward the stairs. Carisse Sevoux scarcely had time to dodge out of the way, flattening against the wall of the stairway trench before Vara shot past, her armored boots clanging hard with every step.
“It would appear Lady Vara knows this envoy as well,” Sevoux said as she pulled herself off the wall, lithe figure balancing on the tips of her toes, silent.
“She should,” Cyrus said, taking a breath as he moved toward the stairs himself. “I feel like I know her as well, though we’ve never met.”
Sevoux looked up at him, tanned face perplexed. “Sir?”
“Cora is the last surviving founder of Sanctuary,” Cyrus said, making his way down the stairs and opening the door for Carisse Sevoux, whose mouth opened just a hint in surprise. Can’t say I’m not surprised either , Cyrus thought as he let the ranger walk through the door first before stepping through and pulling it shut behind him. “And as far as I know, this is the first time she’s set foot in this place in … years.”
11.
Cyrus decided he liked Cora immediately, though it would have been hard not to. She was an elf, of course, but with hair that was a lustrous auburn, an unusual shade for elves in Cyrus’s experience. It reminded him of autumn foliage in the north for some reason, and her handshake was firm, her eyes clear and hazel when he looked into them. There was also a hint of familiarity about her in that regal bearing, the august presence he’d come to expect from elves. The dark blue cloak that she wore drawn about her shoulders hid spell caster vestments from his sight, hinting only that they were there by the small bit that stuck out of the collar.
“It is good to be back in this place,” Cora said in a light voice, less serious than many of the elves he’d met. They stood in the Council Chamber, around the table, with an extra chair pulled up to accommodate
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