Beneath the glinded tongue

Previously

…I watched him go, a knot of dread tightening in my chest. The race had begun. Elara’s lies were already taking root, and my truth, however sharp, was a difficult seed to sow in such fertile ground. The artifact, the Whispering Willow, remained hidden, its fate, and mine, hanging precariously in the balance. The gilded tongue of deception was already proving more persuasive than the curse of truth. And I, a raven bound by honesty, could only watch, and wait, and hope that Prince Theron would learn to discern the true song from the siren’s call before it was too late.