“As do I. But I wish for many things. . . .” He stared into the distance, tempting her to violate the rules of telepathy and see what he was thinking.

“Does that satisfy your concern?” Councillor Emery asked Lady Cadence, snapping Sophie back to the present.

“Actually, I find it even more concerning,” Lady Cadence told him. “King Dimitar is many things—but a fool is not one of them. He will not enter into a treaty lightly. I have no doubt he’s monitoring our world very closely. And when he hears that every elf is being given special combat training? He’ll assume we’re forming an army.”

“An army with children?” Councillor Alina asked, not bothering to wait for Councillor Emery to speak for her.

“Ogres begin military training from the moment their children can walk,” Lady Cadence explained. “Their entire culture is built around defense and strategy. And I guarantee that if King Dimitar believes we’re preparing for battle, it will alter any plans for a peaceful resolution.”

“And how is it safer for them to see us as an easy target?” Alina countered.

“When dealing with a daunting opponent, it’s far better to be underestimated than overestimated,” Lady Cadence retorted. “The more the ogres doubt our strength, the less prepared they’ll be should they choose the foolish course in the end.”

“Valid as your concerns may be,” Councillor Emery said, “they can’t justify leaving our people defenseless. The ogres are not the only threat we’re facing.”

“Then why not focus our efforts on making it easier for people to flee?” Lady Cadence suggested. “I’ve long wondered why we don’t wear emergency rings—crystals we’d always have easily on hand that leap to the same designated safe house at an undisclosed location. I’m sure the dwarves could help you set something up in a matter of days.”

“That . . . is something we will take under consideration,” Councillor Emery said. “But we must also ensure that we do not become a people ruled by fear. Our authority is being threatened from both without and within—and it’s imperative that we prove our strength to everyone daring to challenge us. Spending a few years living with ogres doesn’t prepare you for the complexities of ruling this world.”

“No—but I know far more about our so-called enemies than you ever will,” Lady Cadence argued. “Either you ignored the reports I sent, or that traitor you trusted made sure they never saw the light of day.”

Fitz and Biana slouched as grumblings about their brother washed through the crowd.

“The insights I’ve gained could’ve prevented many of our current problems,” Lady Cadence added. “So you would be wise to heed my counsel now if you want any hope of a successful treaty negotiation.”

“Any information you see fit to provide we’d be happy to hear,” Councillor Emery told her. “But in a proper, scheduled meeting. And just to be clear”—he turned to the crowd—“nothing is going to halt our plans for this program of skill training. We do not bow to fear and speculation or flee to avoid confrontation.”

“We have in the past,” Lady Cadence reminded him. “Our Ancient Councillors opted to sink Atlantis in order to convince the humans that we had died—and turned our species into a bunch of silly myths and legends—because they knew that was the smarter alternative to involving ourselves in a war.”

“Those were different times,” Councillor Bronte told her. “We were a small, scattered race, still getting a handle on the different worlds we’d unwittingly become responsible for. I would know. I was there.” He tapped the points of his ears as proof of his Ancient standing. “We made the best decision we could—but it has also proven to be our most controversial. In fact, one of the ogres’ greatest grievances with us is that we’ve allowed humans to continue living in relative freedom—and I’ve heard some in this very audience make the same complaint. I’m not saying it was the wrong decision. But times have also changed, and now is the time for strength. And confidence. And providing a ready reminder of why we found ourselves in charge of this planet in the first place. We didn’t choose to rule the world. The world chose us, because our abilities and skills make us uniquely qualified—and yes, I am putting both on the same level. I don’t know how we, as a race, became so shortsighted about the value of our skills. I myself have even been guilty of such judgments. But it’s time we open our minds and start accepting their value.”

Lady Cadence stalked closer to argue, then stopped and dipped an especially stiff curtsy.

“Very well,” she said. “You’ve clearly made up your minds. I hope, for all of our sake, that these skills are as powerful as you say. We’ll need them when we’re dragged into war.”

TWENTY-ONE

DO YOU THINK she’s right?” Sophie asked Grady and Edaline after she’d caught them up on the afternoon’s drama. “Do you think the Council should’ve listened to Lady Cadence’s warning?”

“I think there are degrees of rightness,” Grady said, arranging a dozen empty silver buckets into a row. “Our days of easy answers are long past us.”

“Did those ever exist?” Edaline asked. “I remember my elvin history sessions teaching about quite a few averted catastrophes.”

“You may be right,” Grady said. “Though I don’t remember having to worry this much when I was a kid—or even when Jolie was Sophie’s age.”

They both fell silent, lost in their own memories as Edaline snapped her fingers and conjured up a waist-high pile of swizzlespice. It was feeding time in the Havenfield pastures, which could be quite an adventurous process. The animals that Grady and Edaline cared for were transitioning to a vegetarian diet.

Part of the elves’ conservation efforts included relocating any species that humans thought were “extinct” or “mythical” to their special animal preserve to ensure the creatures’ continued survival. But the process only made sense if there were no predators in the Sanctuary. So they’d developed methods to quell the animals’ hunting instincts and fed them a diet of gnomish produce, since the gnomes grew many things that tasted like meat.