Elara woke on a bed that smelled of clean linen, not dust. Her bandaged hand rested on the white sheet. The room was big, bigger than her whole cupboard, and it had a window that looked out onto green trees. She sat up, her eyes going to the door. It was shut tight. Her heart started to beat faster, a little bird trapped in her ribs. A shadow fell across the floor. Kael stood in the doorway, blocking the light. He was enormous, like the trees outside, but made of stone and muscle. He held something in his huge hands. He put it down in the middle of the floor with a soft thud that shook the wooden planks. It was a dragon. A carved wooden dragon, taller than Kael when he knelt, and its eyes were made of shiny black stones. Its scales were smooth, its wings spread wide, ready to fly. It looked real. It was beautiful. Elara stared at it, then at Kael, then back at the dragon. She had never owned a toy. This thing was bigger than anything she had ever touched. She edged backwards on the bed, pulling her legs up to her chest. Kael watched her. His face was still, like a statue. He did not move. He did not smile. He waited. Elara watched him waiting. She had nowhere to hide. The dragon looked like it could swallow her whole. Its shiny black eyes seemed to follow her. She shook her head, a small, tight movement, and burrowed deeper into the pillows. He sighed, a sound like wind in a deep cave. He stood, turning his back on the dragon. He left the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a quiet click. Elara heard the sound. The room was empty now, except for the giant wooden beast. She did not move until the sun went down. --- Hours later, a new shadow fell over the bed. Aeron stood there, not as big as Kael, but still too tall. His hair was the colour of storm clouds, and his eyes were bright, like the sky after rain. He had nothing in his hands. He just looked at her, his head tilted. He held up one finger. A small gust of wind, no bigger than a whisper, came from his hand. It danced around the room, picking up a loose feather from her pillow. The feather spun and dipped, a tiny dancer in the air. It floated closer, then closer, until it hovered right in front of her face. The wind tickled her nose. She blinked. The feather brushed her skin, light as air, then floated away again. A small sound, like a broken branch, escaped her throat. It was a laugh. A quick, sharp puff of air, gone before she could even taste it. Four men stood in the doorway now. Kael, Lucian, Elias, Orion. They had not been there a second ago. They stood still, like they had heard something impossible. Kael’s jaw was tight. Lucian’s eyes, usually dark and still, were wide. Elias had a hand pressed to his mouth, and Orion simply watched, his gaze unblinking. Aeron beamed, a wide, open smile, like the sun coming out. Elara felt a blush creep up her neck. She pushed her face into the pillow, hiding. --- When the door was shut, Elara could not sleep. The darkness pressed in on her, reminding her of the cupboard, the sound of the lock clicking. She would not close her eyes. She sat up, listening. The sounds of the Temple were new, strange. Footsteps far away. The rustle of something outside her window. Elias found her like that, still sitting against the headboard, eyes wide open in the almost dark. He did not come in. He did not speak. He just sat on the floor, outside her door. He leaned against the frame, his golden wings folded tight against his back. He did not move all night. Elara watched the light from the corridor trace the lines of his face. She finally closed her eyes, knowing someone was there, and the door was open. Orion came in the next morning. He sat on the edge of the bed, not too close. He did not bring a gift. He did not try to make her laugh. He just looked at her. His eyes were very old, but very kind. "Your mother," he said, his voice soft, "she loved you more than anything. She hid you to keep you safe. She sealed her power and ours in your blood. So you would live." Elara looked at him. She did not know what 'sealed' meant, or 'power'. But she knew what 'loved' meant. And 'safe'. And 'live'. She looked at his hands, then at her own bandaged one. His words were a cool cloth on a fevered forehead. He just sat there, waiting for her to understand, or not. Then he left. --- Lucian came last. He held a small, dark stone in his hand. It was smooth and black, like the one he had given her in the forest, the one that had broken apart. This one was whole. He held it out. "I found this," he said. "It is like the mark on your throat." Elara looked at the stone. It was pretty, dark and shiny. She looked at his face. His eyes were sad, like a deep well. She remembered the big room, the lights, the other girl wearing her mother’s necklace. She remembered the way Margaret had looked at her, then at the gem. She remembered Lucian, standing there, watching. She pointed at his hand, then at her own empty throat where the chain should have been. Her voice was a dry rasp, but it came out. "You let her take it." It was not a question. It was a statement. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. She meant the necklace. She meant Lydia. She meant all of it. Lucian’s hand dropped. The dark stone clicked against the floor. He looked at her, his face showing a hurt she did not understand. He knelt down, slowly. He tried to speak. No words came out. He reached for her, then stopped himself. He closed his eyes. She watched him, still and silent. He could not fix it. He could not make it so the necklace had never been taken. He could not make it so she had never seen it on Lydia’s neck. --- Eleanora came in the afternoon. She did not bring anything. She did not say anything grand. She just sat on the bed. Elara moved closer, until her head rested on Eleanora’s knee. It was a quiet place there. No one else had a quiet place. Eleanora hummed, a low, soft sound. Her fingers carded through Elara’s hair, gently, carefully. Elara closed her eyes. The room was warm. The sunlight through the window felt good on her face. She listened to the hum, a song without words. Lucian came back in. He held the necklace. It was just a plain silver chain. The stone was dull. Grey, like a river pebble. It did not glow. It did not smell of rain or roses. It was just a rock. He offered it to Elara. She looked at it, then at Eleanora’s face. Eleanora shook her head, a small, sad movement. Elara did not take it. Lucian put the necklace on the small table beside the bed. It lay there, a forgotten thing. The grey stone stayed grey. Eleanora kept humming. Elara listened. It was the first time she had felt safe, truly safe, in a long time. The humming filled her ears, kept out the other sounds. --- Outside the Temple walls, a shadow detached itself from the ancient stone. It was a man, tall and slender, dressed in dark robes that absorbed the last light of day. He had watched Eleanora for eight years, a silent sentinel, always waiting, always patient. He had seen the child arrive, carried in Lucian’s arms, small and broken. He had heard the surge of power, the echoes of Selene. He had felt the shift in the ancient magic of the land. The wards had fallen. The trail was clear. He knew now. The little girl in white robes, the one Lucian guarded, was the true daughter. He smiled, a cold, thin line in the growing dusk. Eleanora stopped humming. She looked up, her gaze fixed on the window. A cold shiver ran through Elara. She felt it, too. A wrongness. A shadow that lingered even after the sun went down. A whisper in the wind that was not the wind. A new kind of hunger, drawing closer to the Temple, slow and sure. A name, a low voice, called from the darkening trees. It was for Eleanora. He was here for her.

Five Kings and One Small Girl