Only when Aaden and Devlyn raised their arms in alarm and the three servants dove for the ground did Elya snap her wings out. The effect was immediate. The membranes of her wings billowed back, stretched taut, and filled with air. Her wings caught hold of the air so completely that all of that incredible speed vanished. She hung above them for a few seconds, and then retracted her wings, that rapid clicking as they curled and shrank to nothing but small protrusions on her back. The air within them escaped and she touched down lightly on the grass.

Aaden rushed toward her. He threw his arms around her neck and pressed his face against her plumage. For a time the boy was lost in speaking with her, a tumbling stream of words that Mena could not follow. Elya, though, cocked her head, blinked her eyes, and wrinkled her nose as if she understood everything the boy was saying and found it all most engaging.

"It's too bad Grae isn't here," Aaden said, wrenching himself away for a moment. "He would love this. If he was, would you let him fly with Elya?"

"Remember what I said. I don't command her. She could let him ride if she chose, but… I think she is very choosy." As is your mother, she almost added. She leaned toward him and nipped his nose between her fingers. "You should feel honored. You're special, and not just because you're the prince. That means nothing to her, and she likes you for what's truly inside you."

The boy took this praise as he took all praise, as if it were his due and as if it were as light as the words themselves. He climbed upon Elya and called for a servant to fetch his bow and blunted arrows. With his quiver slung over his back and the ash weapon in hand, he urged Elya into something faster than a walk. The creature was careful with him. Mena could tell by the awkward way she moved, taking care to keep him steady on her back, even though it required extra contortions of her limbs. Devlyn knew better than to ask to ride himself. He fetched his own bow and made a show of circling, an instant hunting party. Aaden shouted for Mena to join them, but she declined. She was content to sit on the blanket and watch them, to smell the salt-tinged air and hear the rhythmic concussion of the waves on the base of the seaside wall of the stadium.

Small ruminants, about the size of dogs and looking much like lanky potbellied hares, munched on the grass a little distance away. They had been brought in after Corinn chose to seed the field several years ago. They kept the grass trim, and their droppings made for a pleasantly fragrant fertilizer. At first sighting Elya they had fled in awkward, loping fright. Now they hardly took notice of her at all. At Aaden's urging, Elya pressed her body low to the ground, intent as a carnivore stalking. The grazing animals were no more afraid than hens are with a toddler in their midst. They did not love being shot with the blunted arrows, though, and Devlyn seemed particularly good at stinging their backsides.

How strange to think that just a few weeks ago Elya was not even a part of her life. That seemed impossible now. She was family. Even Corinn saw it! And, like family, Elya had affection for the boy that went beyond his personal traits. Perhaps she smelled the bond between him and Mena and offered herself to him because of it. Or maybe he was special. Mena warmed to the thought. Maybe he was. Surely, he managed to balance both his childish nature and a calm acceptance of his heredity and the role it meant lay before him. She tried to imagine Aliver having been that at ease, but he never had been. What, she wondered, did this contrast between them mean? What might the reign of King Aaden amount to?

Motion on the stairs caught her eye. Two more Numrek had arrived. They emerged from one of the tunnel mouths at a brisk pace, stopped, and scanned the field and then the bleachers. Seeing the other guards, one headed toward the chief of the guard detail, and the other walked to the other nearest Numrek. Mena watched them speak for a moment, and then she looked at Aaden and Elya, who were at the far edge of the stadium now.

There was another reason for her good mood, a secret she and Elya shared. Three days earlier, in the private courtyard that had become Elya's domain, the creature had shown Mena a clutch of four eggs. They nestled within a blanket, tucked in a basin that caught the rays of the afternoon sun and preserved the warmth in the stone. They were like no eggs Mena had ever seen before-as large as dinner plates, tapered from one thicker side down to the other, only faintly oblong, and colored by pale orange swirls against a creamy background-but there was no mistaking them.

Nor could she doubt the nervous, hovering concern in Elya's demeanor. Mena looked up from the eggs, with moisture gathering on the rims of her eyelids, to find the creature standing behind her, waiting. In the look was a mixture of so many questions. It was hopeful, proud, frightened, seeking approval, but also defiant, ready to react should anger need to be a part of her response. In her eyes were the hopes of a mother faced with the enormity of what it meant to create life. How Elya could have been pregnant or how the eggs could be fertile Mena could not explain, but she did not want to. She just welcomed it.

Or perhaps Mena saw the things she imagined she would have felt faced with evidence of her own unborn children. Either way, she formed thoughts of warmth and pride and comfort and joy in her mind and floated them toward Elya. Even now, she still felt the pulsing intimacy of the moment. She knew that the first thing she would do back in her quarters would be to return to the eggs and whisper kind things to them.

She had said nothing about it to Corinn or Aaden or anybody else except the four maids who lived and worked in her private quarters. Them she could keep nothing from, but they were loyal to her and just as smitten with Elya. They would do nothing to endanger her, which is how Mena had explained the need for secrecy. "People are quick to fear," she had said, speaking to the four young women as they huddled around the nest the evening she learned of the eggs. "Even my sister might think nightmares will be born of these eggs. Foulthings. But we who know Elya best know that there is nothing but goodness in her." She had waited for eye contact with each of the women before continuing. "These babies will be beauties. They will be blessings on the empire, if only we are brave enough to see them born into safety." They had agreed, as she knew they would.

Even so, the eggs made her think even more about journeying to Vumu. Perhaps she should take the eggs, Elya, and Melio to the archipelago. She could raise Elya's offspring there in greater seclusion. Melio would go with her. Of course he would, especially when she told him she was ready and willing to grow his child within her. She and Elya would be mothers together. And then what? Perhaps she could start the other project she had been thinking of recently: an academy of the martial arts. It would not be the same as the Marah training. She would make it something else, less about killing and more about honing the body and the mind and finding peace through mastery of skills. She would have to achieve this herself first, but she increasingly felt she might be able to, now that the wars were over and the foulthings no more.

"Princess," one of the servants asked, "will Prince Aaden be eating anything else? Or needing anything more from us?"

Mena said, "No, I don't think so. You may go back to the palace. We'll be along soon as well."

She used the impetus of the exchange to rise and stretch her legs. The newly arrived Numrek and the chief guard left their post and proceeded toward the other group of two with their long strides. Likely, Corinn was checking up on them, Mena thought. She did that often, even within the royal confines and other protected areas. Mena began to walk toward her nephew and Elya.