Genn bared his teeth in a feral grin that stretched far beyond where human limits should have allowed. His body swelled. . . .
And then, again, the human regained control of himself.
“F-Forgive me, Archdruid,” the sweating figure muttered. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve.”
“I suggest you return to your seat and—”
“No. No, I can’t.” Genn gestured to Eadrik and the other Gilneans. With Genn in their lead, the party silently departed for the forest.
The other guests murmured among themselves. Tyrande indicated for the musicians to play again, but it was clear that the banquet would soon be winding down. The confrontation had eradicated the hopeful mood of the participants, a situation that Malfurion would have to work hard to correct.
However, as he turned to discuss this with his mate, he noticed that one member of Stormwind’s party had not left: Anduin, who was at this moment quietly speaking with Velen.
As the night elves approached the pair, they heard the draenei saying, “ . . . and what you know of the Light is indeed true, but that is only the slightest of its many facets, young Anduin! To fully appreciate the wonder of the Light, you must look at it from the perspective that best lets you see its full place in the universe and how it may become part of our very being! Such requires patience and learning. . . .”
“I can do that, but what I want—”
“Prince Anduin!”
Two of the king’s personal guard had returned. Their flushed faces and hurried movements bespoke of the intense reprimand their monarch had no doubt given them upon discovering that his son was not with the party. The two burly soldiers barged past the night elves and came at their prince from opposing sides.
The one who had called to the prince—a hardened veteran with a nose that looked as if it had been broken more than once in battle—reached for Anduin, who did not hide his frustration as he rose to face the guards. “Prince Anduin! Your father was most upset when he discovered that you’d neglected to follow us! The king has commanded that you come immediately!”
Anduin looked as if he were ready to snap something at the unfortunate guards—who all knew were only doing their duty and likely feared being punished—but held back. With a resigned nod, the prince joined his two keepers. He briefly turned to face the night elves and the others, bowing to each group. Only then did he silently gesture to the two anxious men to lead him to his father.
“Young Anduin has a quiet strength,” Velen commented once the boy was gone. “A pity his father seeks to cage him as he does himself.”
“Varian nearly lost him more than once,” the archdruid remarked. “His fear that Anduin might vanish or be taken is not unfounded.” Malfurion frowned deeply. “Nor are his harsh words to Genn Greymane, I am sorry to say.”
“Genn will make amends for all,” Tyrande interjected. “You know that as well as I. We already know how much he sacrificed to get matters to this point.”
“But will it be worth it in the end? They nearly attacked one another. Genn came very close to losing control of himself, and with some reason!”
“Perhaps we should discuss this at another time,” the high priestess commented. “Velen, if you could—” But to the surprise of both night elves, the Prophet had surreptitiously departed the conversation, almost as if he knew the two were about to enter subjects best discussed purely between them.
“Well, we can trust Velen, that is for certain,” Malfurion murmured. Then, sobering, he added, “Tyrande, before you speak, I have to tell you—”
“He is the one, Mal.”
“I know Elune tells you so and I understand that it should be so, but you saw him! Varian could perhaps be the leader the Alliance needs, yet he also stands a very good chance of becoming the one who further guides it to disaster!”
“Varian is troubled, I agree—”
“More than troubled, though with good cause.” The archdruid tugged on his beard in contemplation. “And his disdain for Genn strikes me as being as much for himself as it is for the king of Gilneas. There was that in his tone that hinted more of self-reproach. . . .”
“I heard that, also.” The high priestess casually glanced to her side. “The others are beginning to leave. The banquet is over.”
“The banquet was a debacle. The others here have seen Varian proclaim the worgen unfit to be part of the Alliance! We cannot let that notion stand. . . .”
“I will go speak with the others. Perhaps you can do something with Varian.”
“Perhaps.” Malfurion could not hide his doubt concerning such a hope.
She put her hand on his. “Elune will guide us. Have faith.”
He grunted. “I of all people should, should I not?”
“Go. Speak with Varian.”
Malfurion knew better than to argue when she used that tone. They kissed, then the archdruid, with a bow to the remaining guests, followed after the king of Stormwind.
To someone who had slept in bug-infested cages and grimy, blood-soaked cells during his days as a slave and gladiator, the woodland quarters offered by his hosts seemed far too soft in comparison. Even Varian’s chambers back home were not nearly so calm, so peaceful. The king considered departing Darnassus for the relative familiarity of his confining quarters aboard ship, but respected his hosts enough not to insult them . . . or at least not insult them any more than he had with his denunciation of Genn Greymane.
Varian had no regrets there. In fact, he had a rather great satisfaction. He knew that he had behaved badly, but in Greymane he had found an outlet for some of the fire ever raging within him.
There was a knock at the door. The night elves had gone out of their way to make their guests feel at home, and so the chambers set aside for Varian and his retinue were fairly human in design and accommodations. Unfortunately, they still had that “nature” feel he always associated with those of the archdruid’s race. Far better were the oppressive stone walls of the keep.
One of the guards cautiously opened the door. Even in Darnassus, one did not take chances. Varian had already caught wind of something amiss, something that had happened just before his arrival.
Anduin and the two bodyguards sent to retrieve him entered. Varian, his heart lightening, went straight to his son.
“You had me worried!” To the two men, he growled, “Let this not happen again! Should any harm come to my son, I will have—”
“Leave it be, Father.”
Anduin spoke quietly, ever calmly, but still he did momentarily what no one else could: silence the king.
Recovering, Varian said, “Anduin, you must understand! You are the prince of Stormwind! Nowhere, not even here, should be considered safe enough for you to go wandering off! You always need at least a guard with you.”
“Yes. I’m not very good at defending myself,” the prince retorted. “I’m not the great warrior you are. You and Magni have already seen how badly I handle a sword, even in practice.”
“I didn’t mean—”
The prince sighed. It was a sound Varian heard often and usually because of something he had done out of concern for his son. “No, you don’t. You never do, Father. I’m back, safe and sound. As usual.”
“Anduin—” Against any foe, the king could stand resolute in his next move. Against his son, he constantly floundered.
“Good night, Father.” The prince walked on, following his guards to the room set aside for him.
As unsettling as the conversation no doubt had been to their guards, Anduin had actually kept it from getting worse by cutting it off. Varian knew that—could even appreciate it—but that still did not ease the sting of his son’s obvious reprimand.
Now the serenity of the night elven dwelling finally proved too much for him. “Stay here,” he commanded the guards, aware as much as they that he was placing them in a similar position as when Anduin had not remained with the party. “I need to walk.”