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Amlaruil came to stand beside him, her hand on his shoulder. "Trust me with your family, as I entrust you with mine," she told him firmly. "I will tell the Aelorothi whatever they need to know to help them understand how important their son is to Evermeet. Your kindred are honorable; they will keep their council and only say with pride that Re
The elf turned and bowed low to Amlaruil. "Thank you for allowing my family to save face."
"Do you still think that is my intent?" she demanded. "You are a remarkable elf, Re
"The queen's knight," Re
Amlaruil lifted one brow. "I do not think that Queen Lydi'aleera would thank you for that description," she said dryly.
"Lydi'aleera is a vapid fool," Re
Before Amlaruil could respond to this pronouncement, Re
Perhaps because the young elf looked up at her with such shining expectancy, perhaps because he needed so desperately to believe in his worth and hers, Amlaruil took up the sword and with reverent solemnity declared Re
Amlaruil slipped back on the concealing mantle of High Mage. But before returning to her duties, she paused to gaze thoughtfully at the reflection in her mirror.
It seemed to her that the faint shadow of a crown lingered upon her forehead. And she wondered if, perhaps, the magic of Re
What did it matter that the elves did not recognize or acknowledge her? She would still serve-a hidden queen, Re
Well content, Amlaruil left her chambers to take up once again the rule of the Towers.
20
Windows on the World
Amlaruil tried to look sternly upon the identical scamps standing before her, their tousled blue heads hanging sheepishly low and bare toes scuffing at the polished marble floor.
It was difficult, though, to summon anything resembling maternal wrath over the boys' latest misdeed. Indeed, it was all she could do to keep from sweeping both of them up into her arms and forgiving them outright for this, any past and all future offenses.
Xharlion and Zhoron, her twin sons, were small replicas of their warrior father. Sturdy and stubborn, they had inherited Zaor's sharp features-right down to the dent in the center of their chins-and their father's distinctive sapphire-colored curls. Amlaruil could not help but smile wistfully whenever she looked upon them, a blessing which came to her all too seldom.
"You boys are under the fosterage of Lord and Lady Craulnober," she reminded them with mock severity. "You are to obey them as you would me, and study with diligence all the things they would have you learn."
"But dancing?" Xharlion exclaimed, spitting out the word with exquisite disdain. "What need have warriors of Evermeet for that?"
"It is the custom of the Craulnobers to teach all the young elves in their care the ways of court life as well as the skills of the battlefield," Amlaruil reminded him. "It is, I might add, a custom with which I wholeheartedly agree. Life does not present us with a single task, and an elven noble must be able to comport himself well in many circumstances. And what have you against dancing, anyway? It is as important to an elf, and as natural, as magic!"
"Well, the two things aren't so bad, when you put 'em together," Zhoron observed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. The twins exchanged a sly look. Their shoulders shook as they snickered at their shared memory of the morning's events.
Amlaruil struggled to keep from joining in. The image of the primly sedate Chichlandra Craulnober shrieking and clutching at her fly-away skirts was almost Amlaruil's undoing.
"You should not have enspelled Lady Chichlandra to dance upon the ceiling rather than the floor," she admonished them.
"Lady Chicken-legs," Zhoron improvised, setting the twins off in another bout of giggles. "That one ought to wear longer bloomers, I'd say!"
"Dances like a chicken, too, she does," Xharlion said. He tucked his hands high up on his sides, flapping his elbows like wings as he minced through the first steps of a roundelay. His small face was set in an eerily precise imitation of Lady Chichlandra's tight, prissy smile.
At last Amlaruil succumbed to a chuckle, which earned her a pair of identical, conspiratorial grins.
"Do not think for a moment that I approve," she cautioned the boys. "Whatever your opinion of Lady Chichlandra's dancing-or her legs, for that matter-you need to show her proper respect. Terrifying and embarrassing your hostess is not the sort of behavior I expect from you."
The genuine disappointment in her voice finally pierced the twins' high spirits. They mumbled apologies, and when Amlaruil dismissed them, they actually walked from the room and down the hall that led to the garden, rather than bolting headlong through the open window as was their usual custom. In moments, however, they had found wooden swords and were bashing at each other with great gusto, emitting battle whoops lusty enough to give pause to a well-armed ogre.
Amlaruil sighed as she watched the boys at play. "My work in the Towers keeps me from them far too much."
"They are being well taught here, lady," Re
The mage turned to smile at Re
Re
"So you said, earlier. Tell me more about the elves of the Moonshaes," she prompted, knowing that her young advisor was eager to speak more on the matter, having recently returned from a trip to these islands.
"They are fierce fighters and fine riders-on horseback, they are as nimble as centaurs," Re
Amlaruil nodded thoughtfully as she watched the warring twins. Their play had progressed from sheer exuberance to fierce competition. As she watched, they threw aside their swords and leaped at each other. They fell together, rolling and pummeling as they went at it with fists and feet. Fortunately for Amlaruil's peace of mind, it appeared that the twins were dealing far more damage to Lady Craulnober's flower beds than to each other.