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"Shh," Elias murmured, one hand coming up to gently stroke Peter's hair. "You don't have to be brave all the time, Peter," he said quietly. "It's alright to miss her. I miss her too."

Peter pulled back slightly, looking up at Elias, his face streaked with tears. "You do? You… you miss her?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yes," Elias said, his own voice low. "I miss her every day."

Peter studied him for a long moment, seeming to absorb his father's words, and a small glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes. "Then… can't we bring her home?" he asked, his voice filled with a simple, unguarded hope that caught Elias off guard.

Elias hesitated, feeling the weight of Peter's question settle over him. How could he explain to a child what he himself struggled to understand? But Peter's gaze held only a quiet, unwavering belief, and Elias found himself nodding.

"I'll do everything I can to bring her back," he said softly, his voice filled with a determination he hadn't felt in days. "You have my word on that."

Peter's face softened, relief evident as he nodded, and a small, tentative smile crossed his lips. They sat in silence for a moment, Elias's arm still around Peter's shoulders as the boy's breathing gradually steadied, the sadness that had weighed on him easing, if only a little.

After a while, Peter looked up, his voice soft and hesitant. "Could you… could you read with me? Like Lydia used to?"

Elias blinked in surprise, but he reached for the stack of books on Peter's nightstand, picking up one that was well-worn and familiar. He settled back on the bed, opening the book as Peter leaned into his side, his small frame relaxing in a way that made Elias's chest tighten.

Clearing his throat, Elias opened the well-worn book, the familiar words sitting heavy on the page as he began to read aloud. His voice was soft at first, a low rumble that gradually steadied, smoothing into the cadence Lydia had used when she'd read this story to Peter.

"In the deep woods, where shadows stretch long and strange, the knight knew he would find his way…"

Peter shifted closer, his head coming to rest against Elias's arm, his small body finally relaxing, releasing the tension he'd been holding all evening. As Elias continued, he could feel the gentlerise and fall of his son's breaths slowing, each exhalation a faint warmth against his sleeve. With each sentence, Peter seemed to lean in a bit more, and Elias felt something loosen in his own chest, a tightness he hadn't realized was there until it began to ease.

The story's familiar rhythm flowed between them, each word a step into the world of heroes and quests. Elias glanced down, watching Peter's eyelids flutter as he sank deeper into the comfort of the tale. And in that moment, Elias could feel the bridge being built between them—an unspoken understanding that hadn't needed words or reassurances, only time together.

As he read, Elias found himself unexpectedly drawn into the story's depth. He had thought of these words as simple once, a child's tale of adventure and bravery, but tonight each line seemed to hold a weight he hadn't noticed before. His voice grew steady as he read of the knight venturing into the unknown, his path winding through shadows that stretched across ancient trees.

"In the deep woods, where light fades and the world grows strange, the knight tightened his grip on his sword. He did not know what dangers lay ahead, but his heart held steady, for he knew his quest was true…"

Elias paused, glancing at Peter. His son's small fingers clutched the edge of the blanket, his wide eyes fixed on the page, hanging on every word. There was something in Peter's expression—a fierce attentiveness, a glimmer of hope—that stirred something deeply protective in Elias.

"Though the shadows whispered fears into his mind, the knight moved forward, step by step," Elias continued, his voice low, resonant. "For courage was not the absence of fear, but the will to walk on despite it."

Peter's grip on the blanket tightened, and he shifted closer, nestling into Elias's side, finding a steady warmth there. Elias could feel Peter's trust, solid and unspoken, as he leaned against him, and the moment filled him with a quiet resolve of his own.

Each word, each turn of the page, built a bridge between them—a connection Elias hadn't realized he'd been longing for. He continued, his voice unwavering as the knight moved deeper into the dark, facing the unknown with a quiet resolve that, tonight, felt personal.

When he reached the end of the chapter, Peter looked up, his eyes thoughtful. "Do you think the knight was afraid?" he asked softly.

Elias considered the question, glancing down at the illustration of the knight standing before a dark forest, his sword raised, his stance resolute. "Perhaps," he said slowly. "But he kept going, even if he was."

Peter nodded, satisfied with the answer, and leaned his head back against Elias's shoulder, his eyes growing heavy. Elias closed the book gently, his gaze lingering on his son's face, watching as the worry and sadness that had marked him seemed to fade, replaced by a peaceful stillness.

"Goodnight, Peter," he whispered, brushing a hand over his son's hair. He rose from the bed, tucking the blankets around Peter's small frame, ensuring he would stay warm through the night.

He had reached the door when hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. Miss Nancy appeared in the doorway, her expression pale and tense.

"Your Grace," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her urgency unmistakable. "A message has just arrived from town. It concerns Her Grace."

Elias turned sharply, feeling a chill settle over him. "What about her?"

"She's been hurt, Your Grace," Miss Nancy said, her voice wavering slightly. "Some sort of attack in the street. The message wasn't detailed, but…"

He was moving before she could finish. "Where is she?"

"At her parents' house," Miss Nancy replied, struggling to keep pace as Elias moved quickly into the hall. "The doctor has been sent for, but we don't know?—"

"Have my horse saddled immediately," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.