Chapter 11: Lessons in Sparring
Thessalia POV
Elf riddles paled in comparison to Tulaska’s mysterious predictions. Even Azandra cloaked her statements in an aura of enigma. But then, she had briefly been the Wise Woman. Thessalia deeply respected Azandra, not just as a healer and a seer, but as a friend.
She walked with Azandra, Dirge, and Calyx back to Cresta House in the cool night air. Clear skies, no rain in sight. A canopy of stars overhead, and a sliver of a golden moon at the center of them, like a family crest.
“Elf riddles are mind-bending, but that made my head hurt in a good way,” she said.
“Thank you.” Azandra sounded surprised.
“Elves confuse people like that too?” Dirge inquired.
Maybe it was her shifter sense, but he smelled sharp like freshly cut leaves or green wood that had just been split open. “All the time. Practically famous for it.”
Calyx recited, “What is pale and brown and red all over?”
Thessalia groaned. “That’s too easy.”