The Lost Princess

Chapter Forty-Nine: The First Meeting pt.1

Amara blew the hair from in front of her eyes. Why was everything always so unbearably boring?

Thorindir gave her a quavering look from across the table. She made a face and leaned back, crossing her arms. Eramire was explaining their need to enter the library to the king and senate members. She was doing a very good job, her words eloquent and calm, face serene. Amara just wanted her to get on with it. Anyone could see these buffoons wouldn't do anything unless Alistair showed support, and the king looked about as enthusiastic as a bull set to plow. He was not going to budge.

Faleon had come back to the villa only saying that his talk with the king had gone well and that he had requested a meeting with them the next morning. After that he'd seemed to melt into the city without a word about where he was going.

The king didn't mention their missing companion. He didn't look any kinder than the day before, so whatever walls Faleon claimed he'd broken with his previous visits to the city weren't showing outwardly. In fact, she found the king to be kind of a jumpy fellow. One would think they had come to steal his throne, not peruse his library. Amara longed to stand up and walk out of the meeting—march to wherever the blasted library was and let herself in. Better yet, she would like to just break in one night, steal what she needed, and be gone.

"Amara," Eramire said.

The lost princess jumped. Blinking, she looked at the elf queen, who seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

"Wha—I'm sorry, my lady."

Eramire smiled, but it was tight and unnatural. "I said, would you please stand and explain why you think you grandfather's tome might be in the library?"

Amara felt herself go rigid, and she slowly came to her feet. She looked around at the generals and elders, at their bored faces and graying beards. She felt walls build. They reminded her of the men who'd betrayed her father. She watched Thorindir sit up straighter, focusing on her intently as if he could mentally prevent her from saying something rude. A hand slipped into hers, and she looked next to her. Earwen smiled softly.

Amara retracted her hand, clearing her throat. "Well, as Her Majesty said, the council was sent a vision seeming to foretell the fall of Rhovamben. We can only assume Goroth will be the one to spur on this fall, considering he is in possession of one of the most powerful relics in this land. Granted, his power is limited with only one, but we would be fools to think he is not searching for the other two.

"My father asked me to find a book before he died. He would have been sure it was well hidden. So what better place to hide a book than in an enormous library? If we find it, it may tell us how we can use the remaining stones to defeat Goroth."

A grizzled old general gave out a growling chuckle, drawing everyone's attention.

"M'lady, are you not the heir to the moon city? Should not the stones be in your possession and all the lore behind them be known to you?"

Amara's sharp eyes narrowed, and Thorindir shifted forward even more. She could feel his eyes boring into her profile.

Amara bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and strove for calm. "I suppose your question has merit. But you must know two things: The traditions of the stones are not written but passed by word of mouth to ensure they cannot be passed to anyone but the intended heir. My father was dead before any of these words could be spoken, which is why I seek my grandfather's tome. It is the only written script specifically for the heirs. Secondly, as mature as I may appear, I was imprisoned at fourteen. There was little time to train me in the customs of the stones when I was being tortured and my family killed!"

Silence followed Amara's harsh words, and she sat.

Gideon cleared his throat and looked to the king for permission to speak. "We sympathize greatly with your plight, m'lady," the general began.

Amara sneered. "I don't want your sympathy," she snapped. "I want your help."

Gideon inclined his head and opened his mouth to continue. But Alistair stood, and he deferred to the king.

"No other race has ever set foot in the library. Even if we did allow you entrance—and I am most certainly not saying I will—how long do you expect me to allow you to traipse through it? The library is precious, and we have been the ones charged with its protection. Every kingdom in Rhovamben sends their texts for us to log and store so the history of this land will be complete. I would not walk into Celeblas and expect to be escorted into the Hall of the Mallospen or be allowed to inspect the moonstones of Calathil. Why should I allow entrance to a girl who has no knowledge of the artifacts she is the heir to or a queen with no support from her people, consequently leaving it open for the possibility of theft?"

Amara raised an elegant brow. "Why, Your Majesty, I thought your city impenetrable and devoid of traitors. Who would dare steal from you?"

Thorindir rubbed his forehead and groaned miserably. Eramire's strained smile vanished, and the color drained from her face.

King Alistair's eyes narrowed. "I believe I will no longer have need of your presence, Lady Amara. Not if Her Majesty wishes to have any progress."

Amara stood, her head held high, and flounced from the throne room.