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Farrendel sat cross-legged on top of the train. The setting sun sent shafts of sunlight streaming between the tree trunks and shimmering across the snow. Now that he had stopped moving, the cold wind of the train’s passing prickled against the bare skin of his back and chest.

Weylind also sat, staring off into the distance rather than looking at Farrendel.

Farrendel huffed out a long breath. “Perhaps you did not notice because you were miserable too.”

“Perhaps.” Weylind’s answer gusted out on a sigh, as if he was finally admitting that to himself. After a moment, he leaned over and gripped Farrendel’s shoulders. “No matter the cost, our family would not have been complete without you. Never doubt that, shashon.”

Farrendel had to duck his head, unable to look at Weylind. Still, the words were a balm he had not known he needed. Weylind had said such things before, but never so bluntly and never when Farrendel was in a place to finally believe them.

When Weylind released Farrendel’s shoulders, he leaned back against his hands, lounging on the top of the train. He seemed more at rest than Farrendel had seen in years.

Maybe Farrendel was not the only one who had to be broken again in order to heal.

He could only hope that whatever breaking Melantha had faced in Kostaria had indeed made her a stronger, better person and had not killed her in the process.

The train pulled intothe platform at the main northern army base that had been set up during the war and had yet to be fully dismantled. It was now in the process of being re-manned, with a large portion of the elven army settling into their treetop shelters, preparing space for the Escarlish army that was on its way, and setting off for patrols along the border. A few Escarlish soldiers, the regiment that had been left to continue to guard the border, joined the patrols or worked near the large artillery guns.

Farrendel strolled through the camp from the train platform with his hand gripped in Essie’s and tried to pretend that he had a clue where they were headed. Everyone else had just set off in one direction as if it were second nature, reminding him that they had spent some time here together while he had been in Kostaria suffering torture.

It was hard not to feel a little jealous, even though he knew the mental anguish they had gone through as they planned an entire war to rescue him. He had felt it through the heart bond with Essie, even if he had not been here himself.

They neared the cluster of large trees near the center of the camp. Several large shelters were grown out of a low-hanging branch of one of them.

Next to him, Essie waved to the shelter. “This is where the command center was during the war. Your brother and his generals had their shelters and command post in the trees while Averett and the rest of us slept in tents on the ground. I’m hoping your brother can be persuaded to make a few more shelters for us this time around. I got rather used to sleeping in one, and they are cozier than a tent in this kind of weather.”

Essie gave an exaggerated shiver and tugged her dark green coat tighter around her shoulders. Her red hair swung in its braid across her shoulders and down her back. She was not wearing her gun or leather armor yet, but both sets of their armor and weapons had been packed on the train.

“Your Majesty!”

Ahead of Essie and Farrendel, both Weylind and Averett turned. “Yes?”

An elf raced through the bustle toward them. He gave a nod of his head first to Weylind, then to Averett. “Weylind Daresheni, we just received word from a patrol. Your sister Melantha Amirah and her husband Rharreth of the trolls have crossed the border and are requesting a parley.”

The tightness in Farrendel’s chest eased, and it felt like he could finally take his first decent breath since he had been informed of the coup in Kostaria.

Melantha was alive.

Not only was she alive, but she was here, crossing the border into Tarenhiel where she would be safe.

“Please inform the patrol to escort them here.” Weylind’s shoulders relaxed a fraction as well.

The elf shifted, glancing at Weylind, then at Averett, before focusing on Weylind again. “That is the problem, Daresheni. The troll king is refusing to take another step into the kingdom, and he has a hostage.”