Elva strode purposefully through the grounds of Nasuada's palace in Ilíria. Elva had aged fast until at the age of five she looked twenty. Since then she has looked the same. But now she was busier than ever, after the first few years the assassination attempts had stopped, and Elva occupied herself by straight-talking. Due to Elva's gift, she became lonely very quickly, and so quenched that by travelling the city, telling kind and good people what they needed to hear, and corrupt and cruel people what they really were and scaring them. Nasuada didn't exactly approve but Elva had manipulated her into letting her do what she wanted. She felt Nasuada's fear that she would become a Dragon-Rider. If Elva became a Rider then she would be unstoppable. Even now she was too powerful for most-people's liking. They found her unnerving. All except from Maurice. But he was different.
He wasn't scared of her, or trying to please and flatter her, he just… was. Despite herself, Elva allowed herself a small, blushing smile. She wiped her ivory forehead with her violet gloved hand. Just one thought of his dark-blond hair and tanned, warm skin made her shiver. He was a Surdan, from Aberon, and having just reached his twenty-second summer was dashingly handsome. His dragon a deep, warm orange. He was a Rider. His bonded one - Amétrina was a very humorous, sardonic Dragon, who had got on extremely well with Angela the Herbalist. Angela had been surprised by Elva's friendship with Maurice and had thought how odd it was that she should befriend this particular young lad. Elva had never been in love before. Some had fallen for her when she was but five years old, and had been suitably shocked and apologetic when they found out how old she was. She cursed herself for permitting this to happen. Elva you will stop this, stop seeing him, thinking about him, talking about him, and of course talking to him. But she didn't. She kept on walking to the wooden bench where they often met, beneath the old pear-tree.