Present Time
Yelena braved the main hall to check on the injured under care. She felt guilt for not having done so before, but word had spread of Sylvin’s child, and the keep’s servants and the villagers were sympathetic rather than antagonistic with many catching her hands and murmuring their condolences.
The humans were used to their hate of the Fae, and only too eager to use the birth of the child as evidence that the Lord of the Silver Dragon was all that the stories would make him.
They had not been in her bedchamber that morning when that same Lord had wept into her hair.
Her anger had faded into an arrow of raw pain, and the target at which to point it was constantly shifting before her. His life had been one of loss, suffering, and endurance, and their separation had
