Amara could feel arms holding her. She wanted to fight them. They were unfamiliar, and it frightened her. She heard the murmur of voices, and whoever was holding her answered. The voice was a man's and stern in tone. Had she done something wrong? Was he cross with her? Her eyes fluttered, and silver flashes entered her vision, but all went black again.

She woke in a great bed. Wispy curtains floated in the breeze coming from balcony doors that had been thrown wide. Amara gazed out at the view. Endless glittering trees lay in every direction, their leaves fluttering in the wind, glinting in the sunlight. The sounds of the bustling city below met her ears. Amara pushed herself up, skin prickling. Where was she? It felt like home. Like Calathil.

Just then the door opened, and a redheaded elf girl came in. In a moment Amara recognized Earwen, and everything came rushing back. The wolves. The swamp. The fire.

"You're awake," Earwen cried joyously, rushing to her side.

Amara watched her warily. "Where are we?" she asked, then grimaced as she noticed that a large mass of wet, crushed leaves lay on her chest. "What is this mess?" She began scraping it up with her fingers. It was crusty and half-dried.

"We are in Celeblas, and that is a poultice of healing herbs." Earwen chuckled and went to a basin to retrieve a cloth. She held it open in her palms while Amara scraped the offending smashed leaves onto it. Earwen disposed of the dirty cloth and handed Amara another damp one, and Amara washed the remnants away.

Amara noticed her clothes and knives were gone, and she wore only a thin nightgown.

"You were out for two whole days," Earwen said, sitting on the bed.

Amara tried to sit up straighter and studied the room more closely. Besides the canopy bed, there was a coral dresser—obviously made before the elves abandoned Gaearost—and a large wardrobe and desk. She frowned at these. The wood they were made from seemed to have silver rivers running through it in place of normal imperfections.

She had heard Celeblas was called the silver forest. She looked back out the balcony doors and pushed away the covers.

"I don't think you should get up just yet," Earwen protested.

Amara felt her legs threaten to collapse beneath her, but she continued doggedly to the balcony and took in the elf kingdom of Celeblas. The sight took her breath away, and she had to shade her eyes from its brilliance. She could feel the power here. The old magic. The mallospen.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" said Earwen, coming to stand beside her.

Amara was clutching the balcony railing, trying to stay on her feet.

Earwen noticed and frowned but said nothing. "You missed the transition riding in," the elf princess continued. "One moment the forest wasn't anything but an ordinary wood, and then suddenly it was like standing in a grove of starlight. I've never seen magic like it."

"I have," Amara said without thinking, and she immediately felt Earwen's intent gaze.

"The moonstones?"

Biting her lip, Amara remained silent.

"I would imagine they are even more powerful?"

Amara glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and then back at the kingdom. "There is nothing more powerful in all of Rhovamben."

Earwen was leaning toward her. "What do they look like?"

Amara turned on the young elf princess to tell her to stop her insufferable pestering. But even this small movement and the strain from standing sent black rushing from the corners of her vision.

"Amara!" The lost princess slumped toward the ground, one hand still clutching the railing. She could hear Earwen calling for help. Suddenly she felt strong hands lifting her. Her eyes focused for a few moments on the elf general's face. She immediately began to struggle in his arms.

"Let me go," she cried out, and again she felt her consciousness slipping away.

"Stop struggling or I'll drop you," he replied.

"Would suit me fine," Amara shot back.

As soon as she was placed on the bed, she moved as far away from the elf man as she could. She glared up at him.

"You're welcome," he said, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

Amara looked away and plucked at the bedclothes absently.

"I'll be right outside."

"Thank you, Thorindir," Earwen answered softly.

The door closed, and Amara finally looked up. She caught Earwen's eye. The elf princess looked disappointed.

"We don't mean you any harm, Amara. You needn't be so cold."

Amara bit her lip. Her stomach rumbled loud enough for Earwen to hear. The elf princess's eyes softened, and she immediately went to the door and whispered a few words, then came back to sit near the bed. After several minutes of silence, a knock came from the door, and Earwen went and retrieved a tray of food. The lost princess could smell currants mixed in with boiled grain, and her stomach twisted in hunger. She took the proffered bowl and ate quickly. Silence stretched on until she could no longer stand it.

"Thank you."

Earwen smiled and inclined her head. "You're welcome, Amara."

"I would like to bathe, and then perhaps I will be strong enough to come to dinner and thank the rulers of this city for caring for me in my state."

Earwen stood, smiling softly down at her. "Of course. I'll have them bring a tub in."

Earwen left and soon was replaced with an unfamiliar elf girl who, along with two men, brought in a tub and filled it with steaming water. The men left, and Amara slowly struggled to stand. Seeing she was having a difficult time, the elf maid rushed to help.

Amara stiffened and put a hand out to stop her. "I can do it myself."

"Would you prefer the Lady Earwen come and assist you?"

"No," Amara responded sharply. "I...I would not."

The lost princess was clutching the bed frame, working up the strength to walk to the tub. "Leave," she commanded.

But the elf girl did not scurry from the room as Amara had hoped.

"I am afraid I have been tasked with assisting you. It must be me or the Lady Earwen. But you are not to be left on your own. If you were to faint while bathing..."

Amara gritted her teeth in impatience. "Fine. Come and help me to the edge of the tub," she snapped.

The elf girl did as she was bid. Amara noticed she was short for an elf—only a few inches taller than herself. Her eyes were a murky green and her hair the color of straw. Amara noticed the elf tremble when she reached out to support her.

Finally they reached the tub, and with her own shaking hands, Amara began to undo the ties on the front of the robe she had been given. She wondered who had undressed her when she had been brought here, and was disturbed. She cast her eyes around the room for her weapons and clothes. The bone whistle.

As if reading her mind, the elf maid said, "Your belongings are in a drawer in the wardrobe, and your clothes were sent to be washed."

Amara gave her a curt nod, then frowned as the maid held out her hands for the robe. Amara's hands stilled on the ties.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about, my lady."

Amara swallowed and turned her back to the maid, allowing her to slip the robe from her shoulders. She heard the sharp intake of breath and felt sick. As quickly as possible, she stepped into the bath and sank up to her chin in the water. She looked up at the elf girl, who was still holding the robe, face pale.

"I am sorry, my lady," she whispered softly.

Amara hugged herself and didn't meet the maid's eyes. "Don't be. It was not your doing."

"I see why you prefer to bathe alone."

Amara nodded as the girl moved forward to wash her hair. Amara stiffened at the first touch, and the elf maid jumped.

"Have I hurt you, my lady?"

"No," Amara murmured, "you have not."

Silence stretched as the girl washed and rinsed her hair. Slowly Amara began to relax. Finally she was bathed and once again sitting reclined on her bed. Men came and took the tub away.

"They will bring in some things suitable for you to wear this evening, my lady."

Amara nodded, and the maid turned to leave.

"Wait," said Amara. "What is your name?"

The elf girl looked startled. She blinked, then stuttered, "Ninim, my lady. My name is Ninim."

Amara nodded. "It is a pretty name. Thank you, Ninim."

The elf girl smiled shyly, curtsied, and rushed from the room.

***

Later that evening Amara sat on her bed, a thin silk robe still wrapped around her body. She was staring at the open wardrobe in front of her, trying to decide what to wear. In the closet hung a few dresses Ninim had brought in from the castle stores. They had also returned her assassin garb, but of course that would just not do for dinner with the king and queen. She fingered the worn and hole-speckled hem of her blouse as she gazed at the feminine outfits. It had been a long time since she had dressed for her station. Every dress was a soft color, made of fine silk or satin. Each one brought back unwanted memories, good and bad.

A soft knock echoed from the door.

"Come in," Amara called, not bothering to stand.

"Well, don't you look different," Earwen commented as she entered the room. She plopped down on the bed next to Amara and followed her gaze to the open wardrobe. "Having trouble finding something to wear?" she asked the silent girl.

Amara chewed at her bottom lip absently. "I don't want to wear a dress tonight," Amara murmured, almost to herself.

She could feel Earwen studying her. "Well, then don't," the elf princess said, as if it were the simplest decision in the world.

Amara looked at Earwen, huffing in irritation. "Then what should I wear? Certainly not my assassin garb. Not to dinner with the king and queen."

"I suppose I should've noticed you didn't bring any clothes," Earwen said.

"Why would I, when I wasn't planning on going on a long journey?" Amara spoke, vexed. "I simply wanted to do my task and..." Her voice trailed away, and she glanced at Earwen, a grim smile on her lips. "I didn't know I would end up being dragged into this foolish adventure."

Earwen looked surprised by Amara's friendly tone, and she smiled. "Well," Earwen said, standing. "We will just have to find you a worthy outfit for the warrior-assassin princess you are."

Amara looked at the elf woman, bemused. Earwen winked at her.

"I've got some riding clothes in my room. Shall I bring them to you?"

Looking up into the elf princess's face, Amara could not fathom the reason for the kindness that Earwen always seemed to bestow upon her.

"It would be more comforting for me to be presented as what I am, not who I was."

Earwen nodded and made her way to the door. Just as she was about to close it behind her, she turned back and with a half smile said, "Who you are, I am sure, will be more than acceptable, Amara." 

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