The guild of capenders worked much more quickly and efficiently than the untrained humans that Quiroris had tasked with the impossible, and Orenda was brought into a room that looked like a miniature version of a library. It was obvious that it wasn’t meant to house a bed, so they had to work for several days to take out overstuffed wooden chairs and other furniture, but eventually it did, at the very least, have somewhere for her to sleep.

“If you wouldn’t like to be surrounded by all these books,” Quiroris told her as he opened and closed the new wardrobe he had had brought up, “and other knickknacks, I can find somewhere to arrange them in the sitting room.”

Orenda was sitting in a small window seat, surrounded once again by plants, looking out over the city below that eventually gave way to the ocean. She was in the tallest tower of the school now and the view from her prison was, at least, beautiful. She could see Lady Glenlen’s cliffside manor, and wondered if Tolith was also sitting in a tower, staring back at her.

“Orenda?” Quiroris asked, “Are you alright?” When she didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll have more comforts brought up as I move my things down. I’ll get you a basin and a dressing table and anything else a young lady may need. I think you’ll be quite comfortable here.”

“When I was younger,” Orenda told him without looking at him, “I used to really, truly, believe that I was a long lost princess.”

Quiroris took a long time to respond and became vastly interested in a rose that had been made from porcelain sitting on one of his many shelves on a row above serieses of volumes of books labeled Student Emergency Contact Directory and Student Billing Information.

“I always wondered about that,” he said at length, “if you really believed it, or if it was just something you told people, to make yourself seem important.”

“I really believed it,” Orenda told him. “I had to believe something.”

“I… can understand that,” Quiroris said.

“I’ve read a great many fairy tales,” Orenda continued, looking across the ocean, “There are a good number of them that involve a long-lost princess trapped in a tall tower. It’s a strangely specific recurring theme.”

“Yes,” Quiroris agreed, “I think that may be because… the system of government… and.. culture… and… responsibility... surrounding real princesses is quite stifling. I imagine a great many of them do feel trapped. There is a social convention that those born into royalty are important and must be protected. It’s easy for protection to feel like imprisonment, if one gets the wrong mindset.”

“Mindset,” Orenda mimicked, running the word over her tongue and through her mind, “yes, I suppose everything is about mindset, about perspective. I don’t think I shouldn’t mind it so much if it were for something I had actually done. I didn’t set that platform ablaze. I didn’t kill Tolith’s father. If I had, for example, willingly participated in genocide, and was being punished for that, I think I could accept it. If I had murdered anyone, and been found out, I think I would accept imprisonment.”

“The world is… unjust,” Quiroris sighed, “learning that, I believe, is part of becoming an adult. At some point, we all have to accept that which we cannot change. We cannot, for example, change the past.”

“There is a great deal that we could change, at any given moment,” Orenda thought aloud.

“When you were a child,” Quiroris said as if he was changing the subject, “I was always impressed by how intelligent you were, Orenda. But… you do have edges that need to be smoothed down. I don’t like to tell my students that they cannot change the world, but… it does no good for someone to be so headstrong, so belligerent, so determined to ignore the rules of society in favor of rudeness. Eventually, you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that if you don’t learn how to use concepts such as respect and civility… it could get you killed. It breaks my heart to look at someone with so much potential and watch them squander it with a lack of gratitude and a determination to be contrary.”

“You think I should be grateful?” Orenda finally turned to look at him, “For what? Exactly?”

“Orenda, I took you in; I risked my career; I saved your life.” Quiroris said with great solemnity.

“Felaern,” Orenda narrowed her eyes at him, “You tried to wipe my people and my culture from the face of the planet. You should spend the rest of your life trying to atone for that. You all should. The fact that Lady Glenlen believes herself to hold power over me is an unforgivable sin. She needs to confess her wrongdoings, and spend the rest of her life in repentance.”

“Orenda,” Quiroris said with more patience than he felt, “You’re sixteen years old, or thereabouts. None of us have ever personally injured you. The war was two centuries ago.”

“It personally injured Captain Nochdifache,” Orenda said, “Yet I see no one apologizing to him. He said he was there, that he saw everything he loved burned away by the eruption, swept away by an invading army. Yet you would all have me believe that he is a terrible person who is guilty of treason.”

“He is a murderer, Orenda,” Quiroris said, “I won’t have you defending him just because you feel some kind of elemental connection. You aren’t like that. You aren’t like him. You’re civilized. You’re a good person. We are more similar than we are different.”

“Have you ever killed anyone, Felaern?” Orenda asked, staring into his eyes, “Have you ever felt the magic that fuels a soul grow weaker and weaker, then burst in a last ditch effort to remain alive- before it snuffs out completely? Do you know what it is like?”

“Things happen, Orenda,” he sighed, “during a battle, things happen. They aren’t things that one is proud of, only things that happen.”

“I see,” Orenda said, “Murder just happens. It’s something that you fall into. For you. But when Nochdifache sets a fire to free himself from a spell, it’s something horrible, something he did.”

“Orenda,” Quiroris said sadly, “I understand why you believed yourself to be a princess. I think you don’t believe me, but I do. Sometimes... we tell ourselves things that are not true, so that we can continue to live. Sometimes we have thoughts such as, ‘I have parents who love me, and will return for me’ or, ‘I had to do it because I was afraid for my life’. I… am not in a position to begrudge anyone a little fantasy, a little fudging of reality.”

“Right,” Orenda said.

“You aren’t a princess trapped in a tower,” Quiroris went on, “And I am not a murderer. You are a student who has free reign of the grounds, and I am an educator who is making the world a better place by helping children grow into adults who have reached their full potential. You have so much potential Orenda. You could be anything you wanted.”

“I think I still want to be a princess, deep down,” Orenda told him.

“You know what I mean,” Quiroris said.

“You can’t give me any of the things I want, Quiroris,” Orenda said, “No matter how it would assuage your guilt.”

“I don’t care for you because of some misplaced, generalized Urillian guilt, Orenda,” Quiroris said as if he had been gravely injured, “I’ve told you over and over that you can be a great mage. You have potential. Mages can do more than combat- we’re excellent researchers, healers, diplomats, explorers- a good understanding of magic is a path to any number of careers. Please, start actively thinking about the future, about what you want to do with your life.”

“I want to be a princess,” Orenda said, “I want to find my parents.”

“Orenda,” he said seriously, “I think… that perhaps you... should look to the past. It may do you well to focus your studies on history and exploration. No expedition has ever returned from the Sacred Mountains, but… I believe that is because the magic there is too strong. When we went, the first time, it was already overpowering. The way that you felt, under that water, when you knew you were going to die, is the way we all felt when we were at that temple. We had to wear special clothing made by dwarven craftsmen in order to avoid bursting into flame. It’s even stronger now. I don’t think any earth elf can survive it. But I think you could. I think you could travel to those ruins and bring back the tales of your people. You could find that which has been lost, not in the half remembered, half mad fragments of the minds of people who want to pretend a false narrative that makes them look as if they were in the right, but as it truly was. You could be a great researcher. I think you should focus on that.”

“Felaern,” Orenda looked up at him, “You said that when I was older, you would tell me everything you knew of the fire elves, everything you knew of that battle. I am older. Please, after everything that has happened, I think I deserve to know. Tell me what happened. Tell me what they were like. Tell me how they fell.”

Quiroris stared past her, out the window for a long stretch of silence.

“Alright, Orenda,” he finally made up his mind, “But it’s a long story. I’ll have some coffee brought up, and a bottle of wine. I’ll need it. I can’t guarantee that I can make it through the entire thing, but you’re right. You’re a young lady now, no longer a child. You deserve to know the truth.”