Page 27 of The Night Prince 2

“Most species do not have a Councilor on the Radiant Council. Humans do. In fact, their Councilor had a one-on-one meeting with the Sun King last night… or so I heard,“ Rhalyf responded dryly. “Unless these Separatists don’t think that Shonda Baston speaks for them for some reason.”

“Mom represents all humans, but you’re not wrong,” Gemma said tightly. “From what I hear, the Separatist leader thinks he’s the only one who can represent everyone. But he’s not very smart, I don’t think. After the license thing, he decided to try and illegally harvest some trees, thinking if he did it at night that the Aravae wouldn’t know.”

Rhalyf let out a soft huff of laughter. “I’m sure that went terribly well.”

“They have a lot of imagination when it comes to repurposing this stuff,” Finley gestured around towards the houses, “but not when it comes to magic. They just don’t understand what it can do.”

“Hmmm, well, yes, too bad about that. It must have taken courage to go into the forests at night without any magic to protect themselves, but they didn’t consider that the Aravae would enchant the forests to repel their attempts to cut down trees?” Rhalyf asked.

“No, not at all,” Finley answered with a sigh.

The Separatists’ actions had made humans look greedy and stupid. Goblins like Strofin likely used that as a prime example of how humanity wasn’t worth the cost.

“Oooh, what’s that?” Rhalyf or “Gran” said in this reedy, old woman’s voice. He was pointing towards the popcorn cart.

This was an example of the cleverness of humanity. A large metal drum had been cut in half lengthwise. Metal struts had been soldered onto the bottom as legs. There was a large pot, almost as tall as Gemma, on one side where popcorn was being popped. He could see the white fluffy stuff overflowing the top. The popcorn maker dumped some of the popcorn into an oversized copper kettle where sugar had been turned into sticky caramel.

“Caramel corn! We have to get some!” Gemma enthused as the popcorn maker swirled the popcorn into the golden, sticky liquid.

The popcorn maker–a woman in her forties, Finley guessed from the streak of frost in her hair and the crinkled skin around her dark eyes–smiled broadly at Gemma as she hopped over and extended two copper bits. The woman expertly took a piece of brown paper, fashioned it into a cone, and shoveled the still hot caramel corn into it for Gemma. She then put a little extra on top.

“Sweets for the sweet,” the popcorn maker said with a wink.

Gemma beamed. “Thank you so much!”

Finley wasn’t surprised when the popcorn maker’s eyes followed after Gemma nor how they lingered on her and “Gran”. The truth was that the very young and the very old were rare to see these days. He’d never known his own grandparents. They’d lived in Europe and died when he was little.

“You’re just like my father,” his mother had told him once after he’d decided to do some homemade “chemistry” with ingredients he’d found underneath the kitchen sink. Youtube videos had been quite informative.

“Was he a scientist?” Finley had asked in his eight-year-old’s too serious voice.

She’d regarded him out of cool, blue eyes rather like his own and said, “He couldn’t leave anything alone. Always had to know how it worked. Understand its function. Even if it destroyed the thing he was trying to understand.”

Finley had known even then that what she’d described wasn’t supposed to be a compliment. He had caused there to be a rather large black streak to cover one wall of their very white kitchen. But he’d decided to take it as one. Because knowledge was greater than anything. Knowledge was certainly greater than the physical. So what if one destroyed an object in pursuit of knowledge? That knowledge would always exist to create another.

Gemma brought the caramel corn over to them. “Have some, Rha… I mean, Gran. It’s really good.”

“Oh, my, that does look quite tasty. But is it as good as a Twinkie? We shall see.” Rhalyf took a few sticky pieces. The caramel was still warm enough to pull and create long strands as he pulled it towards him. He nibbled on a piece before his eyes widened almost comically and he shoved the rest into his mouth. “That is… oh, that is…”

“Have some more,” Gemma offered.

Seeing an Aravae shoveling caramel corn into his mouth was not something Finley had ever expected to see. Especially as some of the pieces stuck to his chin, nose and cheeks. Tutting, Finley reached over and brushed them off. Rhalyf went very still when he did this. The Aravae’s dark eyes–which he had not made rheumy with age, something Finley would have to tell him about later–tracked him carefully.

“What? You’re a mess. Can’t have our Gran look a mess!” Finley found himself chuckling awkwardly.

Rhalyf said nothing. Even Gemma was blinking at him a little strangely. He quickly brushed his sticky fingers against his pants. He’d poked Rhalyf before in his Gran disguise. He couldn’t help himself. That amount of magic–that show of power–but touching him this time felt different. He couldn’t have said why.

It’s so absurd! It isn’t even his body I’m touching!

He was saved from further weirdness when Rhalyf’s eyes suddenly left him and darted towards someone else past his left shoulder. He turned around and looked. There was a cloaked and hooded figure. But if they were trying to hide the fact that they were an elf, they were doing a poor job of it. She–for it was a she–turned her head and he clearly saw short, honey-colored hair and wide blue eyes in a face that faintly resembled Aquilan’s.

“Elasha,” Rhalyf murmured. “Now what are you doing here?”

Let Go

Declan adjusted the hood of his favorite black jacket as he walked down one of the broad, gracious avenues of Tyrael in the direction of the road to Hope. He could see the Sudden Dawn Inn halfway down the block. It was still shuttered for the day though it would open shortly. His shadow was a pool at his feet as it was just past noon. When had he been out in full daylight like this?

A year?

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