But Light! What would she have done without the woman? Elayne had to steel herself against the sudden surge of feeling. Blood and bloody ashes, when was she going to get over these mood swings? A queen couldn’t afford to be seen crying on a whim!
Elayne dabbed her eyes. Dyelin wisely said nothing.
“This will be for the best,” Elayne said firmly, to distract attention from her treacherous eyes. “I’m still worried about the invasion.”
Dyelin said nothing to that. She didn’t believe that Chesmal had been talking of a specific invasion of Andor; she thought that the Black sister had been speaking of the Trolloc invasion of the Borderlands. Birgitte took the news more seriously, beefing up soldiers on the Andoran borders. Elayne would very much like to have control of Cairhien; if Trollocs were to march on Andor, her sister realm would be one of the avenues they might use.
Before the conversation could go further, the door to the hallway opened, and Elayne would have jumped in alarm had she not felt that it was Birgitte. The Warder never knocked. She strode in, wearing a sword—reluctantly—and her knee-high black boots over trousers. Oddly, she was followed by two cloaked figures, their faces hidden by hoods. Norry stepped back, raising a hand to his breast at the irregularity of it. Everyone knew that Elayne didn’t like to see visitors in the small sitting room. If Birgitte was bringing people here….
“Mat?” Elayne guessed.
“Hardly,” a familiar voice said, firm and clear. The larger of the figures lowered his hood, revealing a perfectly beautiful masculine face. He had a square jaw and a set of focused eyes that Elayne remembered well from her childhood—mostly when he had noticed her doing something wrong.
“Galad,” Elayne said, surprised at the warmth she felt for her half-brother. She rose, holding out her hands toward him. She’d spent most of their childhood frustrated with him for one reason or another, but it was good to see him alive and well. “Where have you been?”
“I have been seeking truth,” Galad said, bowing with an expert bow, but he did not approach to take her hands. He rose and glanced to the side. “I found that which I did not expect. Steel yourself, sister.”
Elayne frowned as the second, shorter figure lowered her hood. Elayne’s mother.
Elayne gasped. It was her! That face, that golden hair. Those eyes that had so often looked at Elayne as a child, judging her, measuring her—not merely as a parent measured her daughter, but as a queen measured her successor. Elayne felt her heart beating in her chest. Her mother. Her mother was alive.
Morgase was alive. The Queen still lived.
Morgase locked eyes with Elayne, then—oddly—Morgase looked down. “Your Majesty,” she said with a curtsy, still remaining beside the door.
Elayne controlled her thoughts, controlled her panic. She was Queen, or she would have been Queen, or…Light! She’d taken the throne, and she was at least the Daughter-Heir. But now her own mother came back from the bloody dead?
“Please, sit,” Elayne found herself saying, gesturing Morgase toward the seat beside Dyelin. It did Elayne good to see that Dyelin wasn’t dealing with the shock any better than Elayne. She sat with her hand gripping her cup of tea, knuckles white, eyes bulging.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Morgase said, walking forward, Galad joining her and resting a hand on Elayne’s shoulder in a comforting way. He then fetched himself a seat from the other side of the room.
Morgase’s tone was more reserved than Elayne remembered. And why did she continue to call Elayne that title? The Queen had come in secret, with hood drawn. Elayne regarded her mother, putting the pieces together as she sat. “You renounced the throne, didn’t you?”
Morgase gave a stately nod.
“Oh, thank the Light,” Dyelin said, letting out a loud breath, hand raised to her breast. “No offense, Morgase. But for a moment there, I imagined a war between Trakand and Trakand!”
“It wouldn’t have come to that,” Elayne said, virtually at the same time that her mother said something similar. Their eyes met, and Elayne allowed herself to smile. “We would have found a…reasonable accommodation. This will do, though I certainly wonder at the circumstances of the event.”
“I was being held by the Children of the Light, Elayne,” Morgase said. “Old Pedron Niall was a gentleman in most respects, but his successor was not. I would not let myself be used against Andor.”
“Bloody Whitecloaks,” Elayne muttered under her breath. Light, they’d actually been telling the truth when they’d written, claiming to have Morgase in their possession?
Galad eyed her, raising an eyebrow. He placed the chair he’d brought over, then undid his cloak, revealing the brilliant white uniform underneath, with the sunburst on the breast.
“Oh, that’s right,” Elayne said, exasperated. “I almost forgot that. Intentionally.”
“The Children had answers, Elayne,” he said, sitting. Light, but he was frustrating. It was good to see him, but he was frustrating!
“I don’t wish to discuss it,” Elayne said. “How many Whitecloaks have come with you?”
“The entire force of Children accompanied me to Andor,” Galad said. “I am their Lord Captain Commander.”
Elayne blinked, then glanced at Morgase. The elder Trakand nodded. “Well,” Elayne said, “I see we have much to catch up on.”
Galad took that as a request—he could be very literal—and began explaining how he’d come by his station. He was quite detailed about it, and Elayne occasionally glanced at her mother. Morgase’s expression was unreadable.
Once Galad was done, he asked after the Succession war. Conversing with Galad was often like this: an exchange, more formal than familiar. Once, it had frustrated her, but this time she found that—against her better wishes—she’d actually been missing him. So she listened with fondness.
Eventually, the conversation wound down. There was more to talk about with him, but Elayne was dying for a chance to speak just with her mother. “Galad,” Elayne said, “I’d like to talk further. Would you be amenable to an early dinner this evening? You may take refreshment in your old quarters until then.”
He nodded, standing. “That would be well.”
“Dyelin, Master Norry,” Elayne said. “My mother’s survival will lead to some…delicate issues of state. We will need to publish her abdication officially, and quickly. Master Norry, I’ll leave the formal document to you. Dyelin, please inform my closest allies of this news so that they will not be