Princess Elowyn's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

The road to Moonspire stretched long and gray. For six days Elowyn rode in one carriage and Everest in another. She had left her home for him. She had faced her father for him. Now the journey kept them apart, and she could not speak the words she had risked everything to say. The puppy dozed on her lap. She stroked its soft coat and watched Everest's carriage roll ahead. Each night they stopped at an inn. Each night servants ushered her to a room while Everest met with his guards over maps. She had chosen this man across a hall, then across a garden. Now she chose him across empty miles she could not close. On the seventh evening she stopped waiting. She lifted the puppy and stepped down into the inn yard. Rain fell soft and cold. She crossed to Everest's carriage and knocked on the door. He opened it. His curly black hair was damp. His blue eyes went wide when he saw her standing in the rain. "Elowyn. What are you doing?" "Riding with you," she said. "The rest of the way. I did not leave my father's house to speak to you through a window." He glanced back at the maps spread across the seat. For a moment he looked like the king who once arrived with gold and orders. Then the puppy wriggled free and leapt onto his lap. He caught it. A laugh broke out of him, quick and honest. "Get in," he said. "Before you freeze." She climbed up. He pushed the maps aside and made room. The door shut. Rain drummed on the roof. For the first time since Aurea, no wall stood between them. "I have been afraid," she said. "That I chose too fast. That I do not know you." "You know me better than anyone in my kingdom," Everest said. "They know the crown. You asked about the man." She held his gaze. "Then tell me the man. All the way to Moonspire." So for the next week Everest did just that. He spoke of the warm halls of his home, of the mother who waited for him, of the nights he ruled alone. He told her of the sadness his mother felt when his father suddenly died. He told her about all the animals he kept. The puppy slept between them. The carriage rolled on through the dark, and the miles no longer felt empty. One night while they drew closer to Moonspire Everest grew quiet. "There is something I have not told you," he said. "About who waits there." Elowyn sat up. "Who?" "My little sister." He turned the puppy's ear between his fingers. Elowyn spoke soft “Tell me of her then.” The carriage climbed the last hill. Ahead, pale towers rose against the night sky. Moonspire. Elowyn had crossed the miles and won her seat beside him. Everest told Elowyn of his sister how she was seven and she never met their father.