Free Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War by Christie Golden Page A

Jaina found herself chuckling a little. “Then you are welcome to conjure all our meals, and that will teach you to complain!” she said, chiding him teasingly.
    He gave her a look of mock horror. Their eyes met, and they both sobered.
    “It seems… wrong to joke,” Jaina said with a sigh. She began the preparation of the tea, measuring it out precisely as she always did, and setting the kettle to boil.
    “It might seem wrong,” Kalec said in agreement, helping himself to the eggs, boar sausage, and hot porridge despite his earlier teasing disparagement of the chef’s abilities. “But it isn’t.”
    “Surely humor is inappropriate at times.” Jaina fixed her own plate and sat down next to Kalec.
    “At times,” he said, digging into the sausage. “But joy is never inappropriate. Not real joy. Not the sort of lightness in the soul that makes the burdens bearable.” He gave her a sideways glance as he chewed and swallowed. “I didn’t give you and Kinndy the full quote that I—well, ‘heard’ isn’t the right word. ‘Received,’ possibly, from Norgannon.”
    The kettle began to sing. Jaina rose to tend to it, pouring tea for both of them. “Really? Why not?”
    “Miss Kinndy didn’t seem in the right frame of mind to receive it properly.”
    She handed him the tea and sat back down. “And I am?”
    An odd look crossed his face. “Perhaps.”
    “Then tell me.”
    He closed his eyes, and again his voice changed, became deeper, became… other .
    “‘I believe that you will find that my gift to you is not just a profound duty—which it is—but also a delight—which it is!… May you be dutiful… and joyous both.’”
    Jaina felt a strange twinge in her heart at the words. She realized she’d been silent, staring into Kalec’s eyes, for several seconds when he quirked a blue eyebrow, inviting a response from her. She looked down at her bowl, stirring her porridge.
    “I—was telling Kinndy the truth. I enjoyed studying,” she said, stammering a little. “I loved it, actually. Loved everything about Dalaran.” Her lips curved in remembrance. “I remember… humming as I went about my tasks,” she added, laughing as her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “The scents, the sunlight, the sheer fun of learning and practicing and finally mastering spells, of curling up with cheese and apples and scrolls…”
    “Joy,” Kalec said quietly.
    She supposed it was. It was sweet, to linger in that long-ago moment. Then another memory crystallized… Kael’thas had approached her one such day, and then later… Arthas. The smile faded.
    “What happened?” Kalec asked gently. “The sun went behind a cloud.”
    Jaina pressed her lips together. “Just… we all have ghosts. Maybe even dragons do.”
    “Ah,” he said, regarding her with compassion. “You think of ones you loved and lost.” She forced herself to eat more porridge, though the normally tasty breakfast food was now like sludge in her mouth, and nodded. “Perhaps… of Arthas?”
    Jaina swallowed hard, then started to say something to change the subject. But Kalec pressed on. “We do all have ghosts, Jaina. Even dragons, even Aspects. Grief for her ghost nearly destroyed Alexstrasza, the great Life-Binder herself.”
    “Korialstrasz,” she said. “Krasus. I saw him many times when he was at Dalaran but never really knew him. I had no idea who he truly was.”
    “Hardly anyone did. And yes, Korialstrasz. He gave his life to save all of us, and at first, we thought him a traitor.”
    “Including you and Alexstrasza?”
    “We didn’t want it to, but doubt crept into even our hearts.” Kalec admitted this reluctantly. “And I have my own ghosts too, Jaina. One is a human girl. With,” he added, giving her a little nod, “fair hair and a great heart. She was… so much more than just a girl, though. She was something beautiful and profound and unspeakably powerful, but her time as a simple young woman infused that power with