Son of Corse (The Raven Chronicles Book 2) by KateMarie Collins Page A

you’re after.  But we can feed you if you got the coin for it.”  She looked at Barek expectantly.
                  Arwenna spoke up before Barek could.  “We have the coin, miss.  A few hours near your fire and some food and drink are all we require.”  As the woman left, Arwenna removed her heavy wool cloak. She handed it over to Joss gratefully.  Her long black braid swung gracefully as she sat at the bench. 
                  “What are you doing, Arwenna?” Barek muttered at her through clenched teeth.  “Put your cloak back on before you’re recognized!”
                  “Barek, he knows I’m coming.  And that I’m not alone.  There’s no sense in hiding.  He wants me to come to him.”  Arwenna kept her voice low, watching Barek’s face closely.  If she knew him as well as she thought she did, he’d voice some objection.
                  The objection was silenced as a stranger approached them.  He moved with grace despite leaning heavily on a dark wooden cane.  His light blonde hair marked him as a Wood Elf.  It was his eyes that made Arwenna breathe in sharply, however.  They were the same ice blue of Senyan’s.
                  “I hope I am not interrupting, Daughter.  But I owe you an apology.”  The elf’s voice trembled slightly.
                  Arwenna blinked, taken aback by the words.  “Please, sit with us.  I am not certain I know you, let alone why you feel the need to apologize to me.”
                  With a sigh, the stranger settled into a spot on the bench across from her.  “My name is Lu’Zaire Mandurin.  I was among those who fought at what is now known as the Vale of Sorrows .”  He paused, taking a drink from the tankard in his hand. 
                  Arwenna grew quiet as their drinks and food arrived. When the server was gone, she spoke, “Then I owe you my gratitude, Master Mandurin.  You were among many who were of great importance to me.  I still mourn those who perished on that field.” 
                  Lu’Zaire shook his head.  “I was not one who showed great valor in battle, Daughter.  Even though it was mine for the taking.  I had the man you know as Senyan within striking distance of my bow, yet I hesitated.  If I had possessed the courage to let my arrow fly, many who perished would still be with us.”
                  Arwenna stared at the elf, unsure of what to say next.  “I…I don’t understand Master Mandurin.  While I do not hold you accountable for the lives Senyan took, I am curious as to what stayed your hand in battle.”
                  Raising his head to look directly at her, Lu’Zaire all but whispered, “I couldn’t shoot him, Daughter, because he is my kinsman.  He is, or was, my nephew.”
                  Arwenna barely heard Y’Dürkie order another round of drinks.  Sitting across from her was someone who, very possibly, could give her information on Senyan that even Senyan himself didn’t know.  She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully.
                  “Master Mandurin, please do not blame yourself.  It is most likely your arrow wouldn’t have truly killed Senyan.  And I have spent a number of years with my own kin lost to me.  I can understand the hesitation, as I would’ve done the same.”  She watched as Lu’Zaire visibly relaxed, the guilt falling off his shoulders.  “If it is not too much to ask, however, I would know as much as you can tell us about Senyan’s life before he was lost to you.  I fear our battles are not over yet.  Any information we can gather will help us.”
                  “For starters, his name is Lu’Thare Mandurin.  His father, Lu’Daw, was my brother.  Lu’Daw was forced into marriage by our parents.  Laret was the daughter of a village elder, guaranteeing Lu’Daw the