Page 82 of In Darkness Forged

“Are you certain?” he asked, wincing in what looked very much like pain and chagrin.

“Tal, no.” Aislin reached out and grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her with surprising strength. “I’m glad you don’t want to kill him, but don’t surrender your prize for me!”

“Why should I not?” His heart felt strangely light.

“You have needs of your own, and I was the one who made that agreement with the queen. It’s my responsibility. I always knew I would have to find another way to save my family.”

Tal looked around the hall and almost smiled. “This place has nothing that I want,” he said, and was surprised to realize that it was true. “After today, I would like to think that Paendreth’s own people will see what they risk if they allow him to become Marlord.”

“Indeed,” a gravelly voice rasped. “Though you must not expect me to thank you for it.”

Every head turned as the Marlord of Revenfell was carried into the room in a chair.

The old night elf’s eyes were sunken, and his hair hung lank, but he was awake and aware, and Tal wondered briefly whether the Marlord intended to allow him to leave unchained.

Not that he had any intention of allowing himself to be imprisoned again.

Paendreth scrambled to his feet, eyes darting from his father to the door and back again. “Father, I…”

“You swore to me that you had nothing to do with that girl’s death,” the Marlord rumbled. “Said she was nothing to you. That you were never in the forest that day. So how, then, do you explain your words? How do you know what the scene of her death looked like if you werenever there?”

The young night elf froze for a moment, then straightened, brushed off his clothing, and folded his arms, a mocking smile on his lips. “Perhaps I was there. But that changes nothing. I am your heir. You cannot disinherit me, or your line will fail. And we both know you value your legacy more than anything else in this world.”

Some old bitterness tainted his tone, some long-held grudge that Tal was not privy to.

“A legacy,” the Marlord said with grim finality, “that you are no longer a part of.”

All emotion drained from Paendreth’s face.

“You have proven yourself arrogant, honorless, and unrestrained. You cannot be trusted with the power of Marlord, and I would rather my line die in obscurity than taint it with your crimes. Go, now. You are banished to the wilds, to live or die according to the balance of your skills and your sins.”

No one moved.

No one but the Marlord’s guards, whose hands settled on the hilts of their blades as if preparing for Paendreth to challenge his father’s decree.

But Tal could have told them he would not. The coward who had left Lani to die would never strike when he knew himself outnumbered, and indeed, he did not even try.

Instead, his body flashed and changed, and the gray wolf of his hunting form snarled in defiance as he fled the Convocation Hall, bitter, silent, and alone.

The Marlord’s chin fell. The weight of his grief was visible on his face, and Tal could almost—almost—feel pity for his loss. But his son was alive, as Lani never would be again, which meant there was still some degree of hope—for growth, for change, and for reconciliation. Perhaps it was unlikely, but it was not impossible.

For now, however, Paendreth was gone, and in a sense, Tal had gained his revenge. That chapter of his life was over, and he was still contemplating the curious feeling of loss when Vanadar approached Aislin and held out his hand.

“Quickly,” he said in a quiet voice, as the Marlord’s attendants bore his chair away once more. “The stone. I have other duties that will soon take precedence, and I would have the two of you on your way before anyone thinks to question your part in these proceedings.”

Tal watched as Aislin pulled out the pouch that had hung around her neck since he met her. She loosened the strings with careful fingers and dropped the contents into Vanadar’s hand, and as Tal saw what the other night elf held, his whole world ground to a halt.

His vision went white with rage, and his hands shook as he reached out, twisted his fingers into the front of the regent’s tunic, and dragged him up until they were nose to nose.

They were almost immediately surrounded by guards with drawn blades, but Tal ignored them. Ignored everything but the monster he held before him, booted feet barely touching the ground.

“You honorless son of atruld,” he snarled. “You sent her to the Darkspring to die for amoonstone?”

Tal’s magic poured out of him in a dark tide, swirling and crackling with the strength of his fury. The timbers of the convocation hall began to shake, but he barely noticed, even as the onlookers fled and cries of alarm rang out.

“Tal.” At the sound of that quiet voice, some of his rage stilled, and his head turned. Aislin stood beside him, looking confused but unafraid. “I don’t understand. Why are you so angry?”

“Do you recall what I told you about how night elves light their homes?” he asked grimly. At her nod, he continued. “That is what you held. A moonstone. A simple enchantment any night elf could have performed in a moment. And yet he led you to believe it was some powerful and priceless object you could not obtain without risking your very life!”