Lyra Brightwhisper's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Two elders had said yes. The River elder's promise held only if Lyra won all three others. But she had never found the third clan's elder. No one would name him. Without his approval, the River elder's support would collapse, and her whole summit with it. So she returned to the standing stones at dawn, to the one person bound to help her. Aaron Greyjoy waited among the mossy stones, sharpening his knife. He did not look up. "You come back too soon," he said. "You want something." "The third clan," Lyra said. "No one will tell me where their elder walks. You guard these old ways. You must know." Aaron stood. He watched her the way a hawk watches a field. "Their elder does not walk. He was killed a season ago. The clan has no elder now." The words landed hard. Lyra pressed a hand to a cold stone. If there was no elder, there was no approval to win. The River elder had asked for a thing that could not exist. Her whole summit rested on empty ground. "Then who speaks for them?" she asked. Aaron's jaw tightened. "His daughter. She hides in the deep wood. She trusts no one who wears a summit on their tongue." A low growl rolled from the trees. A black wolf stepped into the circle, green eyes bright, teeth bared. Lyra froze. Aaron did not reach for his knife. He raised one open hand. The wolf circled, then sat. A young woman came behind it. Golden hair, a crown of small flowers, a purple gown stained by mud and travel. Her bright eyes moved from Aaron to Lyra. This was the daughter. This was the one who spoke for the clan that had no elder. "You bring a stranger to my father's ground," she said to Aaron. Her voice was gentle, but it did not bend. "She wants peace," Aaron said. "I don't trust her either. But she found the world-tree. Neutral ground. No clan owns it." Lyra stepped forward slowly. The wolf's ears flicked. "Princess Zelda Thorn," she guessed, and the young woman's chin lifted at her own name. "Your father is gone. I'm sorry. But your people still have a seat at the summit. If you sit in his place, the River elder's promise stands." Zelda knelt and set a hand on the wolf's neck. "My father died over a clan feud," she said. "You ask me to sit with the ones who fed that feud." "I ask you to end it," Lyra said. Silence held. Then Zelda rose. "I will come. I speak for my clan now. But if your summit becomes a trap, my wolf remembers faces." Lyra bowed. The empty seat was filled. Three clans stood behind her now. But she had won an elder made of grief, and one wrong word could turn that grief on them all.