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basin. Lanterns still glowed despite the late
hour, and he knew that in some squares, music
would be playing.
Home. Or it had been. Were its citizens
still his people, when he’d wed a foreign
queen? When he’d fought and killed so many
of them on Eyllwe’s waters? He didn’t look
for the black mourning banners that would be
hanging from so many windows.
Beside him, he knew Lorcan and Gavriel
were avoiding counting them, too. For
centuries, they had known these people, lived
amongst them. Called them friends.
But were any aware who was held in their
midst? Had they heard her screams?
“That’s the palace,” Gavriel said to Elide,
pointing toward the cluster of domes and
elegant buildings set on the eastern edge, right
along the lip of the massive waterfall.
None of them spoke as they scanned the