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“Come, Nephew.” Lisinder offers us a smile that’s almost teasing. “I thought we were past all that silliness. I’m sure most of these soldiers were slain by our brave warriors, and we Unseelie clear up our messes.”

“Speaking of which,” I say sternly, looking at Ruskin’s leg. “You need that fixed sooner rather than later.”

Elias escorts us across the battlefield to the healers’ tents, where Atlana meets us, whisking Ruskin away to examine his leg.

“You can keep him,” Elias says as I dismount Parsley. My heart swells.

“Really?” I gasp.

He shrugs. “They won’t usually take new riders. He’s already yours, really.”

I thank him.

“And will you say goodbye to Vaccia for me? And send my condolences,” I say.

He nods. “We will have a holding feast tonight that will wake the very mountains of Unseelie.”

I smile, despite the ache in my chest when I think about Maidar, Wistal, Kaline, Pyromey, Halima. Maidar was right when he said that eventually there are just too many people to hold. And still, somehow, your heart keeps finding room for more.

“I’m sorry to miss it,” I say truthfully.

Elias nods and offers me a low bow from his horse.

“Goodbye for now, Lady Thorn,” he says.

“Actually…” My smile widens, a warmth thawing some of the chill of my grief. “It’s Lady Dawnsong now.” It’s still so early that I’m not used to thinking about Ruskin as my husband. But when I do, it sends a delicious thrill through me, and I suddenly want to be near him again, the bond reaching out in yearning.

Elias’s eyebrows shoot up at first, and then he matches my smile. “Well then, may I offer my congratulations, Lady Dawnsong.” He bows even lower to me, and then winks before riding away.

I turn around, thinking I’ll go find Ruskin, only to see Dad emerging from a tent.

“Nora,” he says, pulling me into an embrace.

“Are you all right?” he asks, clutching my face between his hands.

“Yes, Dad,” I say, and know that for the most part, it’s true. “Are you all right?” I ask, thinking about all the pain and blood he must’ve seen in the last few hours. He steps back, looking down at his bloodstained apron.

“Yes, I am.” I must look doubtful, because he adds, “I mean it, Nora. Albrecht made me watch those people die, and I could do nothing to save them.” He holds his head higher, and I think the haunted look in his eyes might’ve faded just a touch. “Today there were people who needed my help, and I did save them. Come with me.”

He leads me back into the tent, past rows of fae testing out newly healed limbs, or else resting in cots. Dad proudly points out those he helped on the way. Ruskin sits at the end of the row, leg stretched out on one of the cots, as Atlana works on it. The sight of him renews the glow I felt when talking to Elias. General Sunshard is beside him, debriefing him on the state of the Seelie casualties.

“And then there’s the humans,” she says eventually, her face solemn.

“Prince Gawain?” I ask, my gut twisting at the memory of the Styrlanders fighting for their lives.

“He surrendered with his men partway through the battle, at Lord Destan’s prompting. Lord Destan says that you gave him permission to offer amnesty in return for laying down their weapons.”

“I did,” I say, confused by General Sunshard’s tone.

“With all due respect, Lady Dawnsong, you didn’t have the authority to issue that order. It is His Majesty who must decide what to do with them.”

My father crosses his arms, looking sternly at General Sunshard. “Prince Gawain is just a boy. He had no choice to do what his father told him, I’m sure.”

“And technically, I’m not king anymore,” Ruskin says with a shrug.

“You are the most direct living descendant of the royal line. You are a king, if not High King, whether your name is inscribed on the founding stone or not,” says General Sunshard cooly.

“Then Eleanor, as my wife, is queen, isn’t she?” Ruskin asks pointedly.