I step out from behind Lucian's broad back just as my older brother, Aerynthar, smoothly comes to a stop beside the Elven Commander.
"Commander Theron," Aerynthar says, his tone perfectly polite but laced with razor-sharp calculation. "Is there any problem here?"
Theron's arrogant smirk doesn't waver. He casually crosses his massive, muscular arms. "Not at all, Lord Aerynthar," he replies smoothly. "I was merely greeting my old rival. Asking for a hand in friendship, since our two great races are officially united as of tonight."
Before Theron can say another word, Grandpa Eldric's heavy, battle-worn voice rumbles through the tense air.
"And I respectfully decline the offer."
The Grand Commander of Eryndor stands perfectly straight, his eyes burning with decades of unhealed grief and hardened steel. "I acknowledge this Grand Convergence between our people, Theron.
But I will never accept befriending the man who took my life from me."
