Hours later, Kael was in his new quarters in the palace of Elen'Thalas.
The room was luxurious, but not cozy. Elven tapestries embroidered with threads of light hung from the walls, and an enchanted fountain murmured softly in the corner, its waters shimmering in shades of sapphire. The tall windows offered a view of the hanging gardens—beautiful, perfect, but too still. As if frozen from within. The opulence was evident, but the feeling was that of a decorated tomb.
Kael removed his still-dirty cloak and threw it over an ornate chair. He crossed the room to a small marble table and filled a goblet with thick, sweet silver wine. He took a sip, then walked over to the darkened mirror on the wall.
He made a gesture with two fingers—and the reflection trembled.
A shadow appeared behind him, inside the mirror, like living smoke taking shape. Silver eyes opened in the darkness. Umbra.
"You took your time," Kael said, without turning around.
