" We should proceed with caution,” whispered Wyrden.
Angela made a faint noise in her throat. “How else were you planning to proceed? With blaring trumpets and shouting heralds? Really.”
The elf refrained from answering, but he appeared distinctly uncomfortable.
Arya and Wyrden pulled off the grating and cautiously moved into the tunnel. Both conjured werelights of their own. The flameless orbs floated over their heads like small red suns, though they emitted no more light than a handful of coals.
Eragon hung back and said to Angela, “Why do the elves treat you so respectfully? They seem almost afraid of you.”
“Am I not deserving of respect?”
He hesitated. “One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me about yourself.”
“What makes you think that?” And she pushed past him to enter the tunnel, her cloak flapping like the wings of a Lethrblaka.
Shaking his head, Eragon followed. "

― Christopher Paolini , Inheritance (The Inheritance Cycle, #4)