Atra nosu waíse fricäya

"Lady Evalia!"

The distressed call rang out through the barren halls of the elven palace, the smooth alabaster coated in the moon light. "Lady Evalia, I bring grave news from the battlefields of Leark S'urtu." The young girl stood from her bed, a silk robe draped over her pale shoulders. Her slender legs carried her forward as she took the message from the form of her hand maid, Toska. As Toska bowed, her lithe blond hair fell across her face. By the way the strands clung below her eyes, young Lady Evalia could tell she had been weeping. "Tell me, Toska, what has brought you to such tears?" When Toska shook her head, Evalia grasped the scroll and sent her from her chambers.

Evalia's fingers shook as she undid the yarn around the parchment. Closing her ice blue eyes for a moment, the elven princess carefully unrolled the scroll. The flowery writing was hard to decipher, but as Evalia's eyes flew across the page the writing became clear.

" Dear Princess,

I regret to inform you that your father has perished on the fields of Leark S'urtu. Your mother has lived through the battle and is returning home as we speak. Until her return, you are not to leave the palace. Another message had been sent earlier to Toska and Ilion to safeguard you. If you were to look now, Olin is posted outside your chamber doors.

Yes, little princess, the battle has ended. The death count has come up to seven thousand, on the Empire's side. Ellesmera has only lost four thousand men. There where many injured, but they are being well taken care of.

Please do not let this news stop your training. I surmise you will find the right dragon very soon.

In loyalty,

Cormamin "

In silence, Evalia let the letter drop to the floor. Her body convulsed and she crashed to the floor, ebon hair splaying across the cold, hard stone. Her eyes closed into tight slits, but still the tears spilled down her cheeks in a frenzy of sorrow. Her body was cold and numb. Cormamin, the queen's advisor, had killed her. Though her heart still beat and hot blood coursed through her veins, one single question rang in her iron guarded mind.

How could Cormamin be so calm about this?

Almost immediately, Evalia sat up again. Her light blue dress scattered around her as she leaped up and made toward the heavy wooden door. As she clasped the silver handle, she heard the soft sound of breathing on the other side. That must be Olin, she decided, but did not dwell on the matter. When she wrenched the door open, her view of the corridor was blocked by a muscular, auburn haired elf with a sharp sword in his hand. From behind him Evalia could see that his fists were clenched tightly around the sword's base. "Let me pass, Guard Olin, for I am Princess Evalia," she said in her most regal voice. Even that was choked with sorrow and tears as she began to push past Olin, making her way into the hallways. Suddenly the elf guard gripped her arm with inhuman strength, and pulled her dainty form back into her chambers. "The hour is late, my Princess. I was ordered to make sure you rest tonight, for tomorrow your mother returns. You sit next to her in the court, my lady." Olin's deep voice echoed softly in her dark room. "Leave me to go as I please, Guard! You do not hold control over me!" Evalia cried, voice rising in panic. "No," Olin said flatly, never relinquishing his grip on the young girl's arm.

"Let me be, or I shall have you arrested!"

"I have committed no crime."

Evalia opened her mouth wordlessly. Her cream coloured lips closed again and formed a tight, angry line. "My father has died, Guard Olin! Leave me to see to my people! I command this of you," cried Evalia, struggling against Olin's grip with all her might. The steadfast elf gripped her tightly, and as Evalia begged for her freedom, tears streaming down her face once more, he took her to him and held her close.

"Atra nosu waíse fricäya , Evalia-vira. Let us be friends."