Corpus Tamrielicum - The Imperial Library

[30.1] KING EDWARD I
Edward's gaze shifted rapidly over the four beings in front of him, unable to find a
comfortable resting place. He hoped briefly, fervently, that he was dreaming. His mind
seethed with questions and demands, then quite suddenly his tongue came unstuck. "But I
wasn't concentrating at all! My masters all say I'm incapable." Edward clamped his jaw down
hard, suddenly realizing that it might be unwise to argue with beings such as these.
But the golden elf smiled broadly, showing perfect white teeth, "Exactly." He radiated such
warm approval, that Edward felt his skin tingle pleasantly. It was a feeling that he'd only
known with his long-gone mother. But the other elf's face was expressionless; the red eyes
bored into Edward as if they would pierce his soul.
"Moraelyn! You're Moraelyn! The witch-king!" He jumped to his feet and faced the dark elf.
"You stole my mother! My father will kill you."
"I am. I did. Will he? Shall we call him and find out?" The dark elf straightened and his eyes
glowed deeper. A tiny puff of steam escaped the dragon's nostrils. A glowing aura appeared
around his companion. Edward knew he wasn't going to call the guard. Why should they be
slaughtered? These two looked capable of anything. Quite suddenly he was no longer afraid.
If they were here to hurt him, they'd have done it by now. But a feeling of impotent rage
remained. They'd taken his mother. And now.
"Why are you here?" he demanded.
"Edward, will you come with us?" The high elf spoke. Hearing him was like hearing a harp,
cool as a breeze, warm as a fireside.
The boy stood very still. He wanted very much to say yes, to his own amazement. He wanted
to ask if he would see his mother, but instead: "My father..." he croaked.
"Will miss you no doubt." The irony was back in Moraelyn's voice, a voice that make Edward
think of icicles sparkling and dripping in winter sun. But there was a sort of hunger in his
glowing eyes, a longing?
His father wouldn't miss him and he knew it. Shame ran through the boy, but he looked up at
the broad-shouldered elf defiantly. "Are you my father?" Edward had meant the question to
match the elf's sarcasm, but his hand crept to his ear as if of itself. He wasn't anything like his
short-tempered, hearty, red-haired father and Roane often said he had an elfin look.
There was a heavy silence and Edward sensed that Moraelyn was taking the question at face
value but that truth had nothing to do with what Moraelyn would say next. He would give the
expedient answer. Still.
"No." It came reluctantly. He might be lying, of course, but Edward felt a deep wave of relief.
"Does my mother have other sons?" Suddenly Edward knew she did not and that the question
would hurt the dark elf. And was glad.
"Your mother might be dead, for all you know. Or care, it seems." The dark elf's narrow
nostrils twitched as if Edward stank, and the lines around his mouth deepened. She was not
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