The sight of the high elf palace never got old. Especially on days with clear skies and minimal clouds, cast in rays of sunlight reflecting off the stained-glass windows and sparkling across the river that circled it, fed by a nearby lake. The pointed peaks were high enough, taller than mountains, that Faine had to squint to view the barred window looking out to the rest of Isflean.

The muddled windows, doors, bridges, and towers blended together into one mess of a palace, stretching from the foundation like crystals originating from rock. Faine clutched the leather folder tight in one arm and stared up at the palace, utterly awestruck. This wasn't the first time she was walking towards it, or walking through it entirely. She spent many evenings sneaking in to celebrate whatever occasion the high elf family was making a grand display of.

But this was the first time the high elf father would look at her as something other than a sniveling threat. A possible ally.

Walking at her side, Ametrine held the same expression. No one got used to walking up to such a grand affair, across the white stone bridge that arched upward for small boats to pass underneath. On either side, guards held tightly onto the wooden poles of their great axes, the twin blades nearly covering one half of their face. None moved, nor did their sharp posture drop below its means.

The winding, stone-paved road led them to the portcullis, also guarded by two burly gadigators wearing silver armor accented with a grand willow tree across the chest plate. Faine and Ametrine handed over their identification to the one with grey skin and long fangs poking out from his dry, nonexistent lips.

Flowers of arraying sizes and colors covered either side of the portcullis walls, and vines weaved a complicated mess up the side of the tower; the guard's tower. Faine looked up and met the eye of two guards pacing back and forth from the embrasures, watching her carefully while also monitoring the merchant wagon that had just entered.

The gadigator guard handed over their information and ordered the portcullis to raise, only for the two felirams standing out front. Faine's breath caught in her throat and she held everything back to avoid squealing out loud, but the wide grin she shared with Ametrine was her only visible display of excitement.

As beautiful as the walk to the palace was, the courtyard was a grand display. The fountain in the shape of the high elf father himself, squirting water from all visible points, drew the eyes of anyone sane. There was a reserved area for children to play in the grass, a small playset for them to climb on, and wide, green bushes rimmed the outside.

The stone pathways led in all directions, some towards doors and others towards open archways and deeper parts of the courtyard. Gardens and archery fields, outdoor picnic areas and a white gazebo draped with sparkling green vines. Faine absorbed everything on their slow walk to the main door carved with the grand willow tree, same as the armor.

It split in half when the guards on either side opened it and allowed the two felirams to step from the white stone to the clean marble floor. Faine couldn't believe what she was looking at.

They didn't have an appointment with the high elf father, neither did Celestia bother to alert the leader of Pinedon that they were coming. All they were riding on was the fact that eventually, Silver Willow had to make an appearance to deliver what they discovered at the banquet. And all Faine cared for was the fact that he was here at all, somewhere within the palace.

She looked either way down the long stretch of hall, but her feet didn't move. Ametrine was in the same, lost position. They both looked around, lost within the busy hallway of white pillars and golden walls, and a voice chimed from the other end, bringing laughter and brightness to all it neared.

Elves had a taste for the beautiful in everything they did, even in a laugh. So when an elf descended a staircase on one end of the hall, walking with what appeared to be their assistant, Faine wasn't surprised. But she knew the face of who was striding towards her, and his importance to all of Pinedon.

The high elf son. Her blood ran cold, and she pivoted, silently telling Ametrine that the elf wasn't any ordinary boy. Man, rather. Ametrine understood immediately, and their wide-eyed stares were noticeable enough from where he walked towards them, for he perceived immediately that they were out of place. Unmoving.

Faine dropped her head into a bow.

"Is there anything I can help you two ladies with?" he asked in that royal tone each of them had. He looked them up and down. "You appear extremely out of your comfort zone."

It was Faine that mustered the strength to speak. "We are looking for the high elf father. We have business to deal with him."

The high elf son turned to his assistant and waved him off without a word. "Follow me, please. I'll lead you straight to him." He extended his long arm to the opposite hall he came down and flashed a white grin.

Every high elf was handsome, but in a way that was noticeable. On the face of the high elf son, no one had to search for the exterior beauty he carried with high praise. With every window they passed, his short hair resembling winter's first snowfall glistened brighter. The strands slicked onto his head, combed to the side. Not a single hair was out of place.

"My father deals in plenty of business, most of it being out of my range of expertise. Is it fair to ask what you are here for?" he questioned. His fire opal eyes were such a contrast to the paleness of his sharp face, so much so that Faine had to look away to keep herself from noticing every small detail about the eyes crafted from hell itself.

"I don't believe we are allowed to say, Your Highness," Faine said.

"Please, call me Avas. With as much formality as I've seen over recent days, I cannot stand to hear anything other than my own name."

Pity laughs left both their throats, Ametrine carrying on for longer than what anyone sane considered comfortable. Avas led them up a winding golden staircase with white tracings over each step and onto a higher level of the palace. The banister was the only thing keeping them from tumbling back down, other than the chandeliers hanging in the middle of the room, close enough for Faine to jump onto if she wished. Another time.

"If your father wishes it, you can stay for our meeting. Until then, we must keep our identities hidden. Apologies, Avas," Faine said.

The high elf son did not appear to hold a sliver of disappointment. He reached for a golden handle on a white door and pushed open with no regard to the large minotaur standing on either side, memorizing the faces of the two felirams that were following an important member of Pinedon.

A hallway of bookshelves greeted them on the other side of the door, lit by the sconces holding dearly to flickering candles in between the wooden structures. Avas walked ahead, folded his hands behind his back, and followed the twists and turns by memory. Faine tried to keep up, all the while memorizing the route and the noticeable changes from one corner to the next. If she had to, she wouldn't hesitate to jump out a window.

When the bookshelves came to an end, another large set of white doors led them to another room, this time unguarded. Avas pushed through without a knock, a mistake by Faine's account, for on the other side, the high elf father of Pinedon was lounging on his leather chaise, a pipe hanging from his lips. He looked up from the book sprawled against his fingertips and raised his brows at his son, then the two women following behind.

Faine dipped her head in a bow and kicked Ametrine in the shin so the feliram wouldn't make the mistake of showing disobedience. They intruded on the high elf father in his private chambers—without a single knock or warning. Faine didn't know what was worse. The suspicion that it was her idea or the fact that Avas had no respect for his father's privacy in an endless palace.