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If only Edmund were here instead of still helping the scouts keeping an eye on Kostaria. He would see right through this couple, if they had any bad intentions toward Farrendel.

“We did, at first.” Mr. Harwell’s voice was slightly gravelly.

“We blamed the elves. We blamed the royal family, begging your pardon. We blamed the doctors who had been unable to help. We even blamed ourselves.” Mrs. Harwell reached over and clasped her husband’s hand before she glanced back to Essie, then Farrendel. “Out of desperation, we started our own research to find help for our son, which led us to some of the few pieces of elven knowledge on how the brain works that made it across the border. Eventually, we lost our anger and instead found our passion.”

“We attended Hanford University and obtained medical decrees.” Mr. Harwell gripped his wife’s hand, sharing a smile with her. “Our son was our first patient, and he and his wife live here in Aldon with their three children. We have been doing our best to help others like our son ever since.”

“Our methods aren’t always effective for everyone, but we have a very good record.” Mrs. Harwell glanced toward Taranath. “Though if you have any input to offer, we would appreciate it. We can’t believe an actual elf healer who specializes in the mind will be here observing. It is a great honor. Truly.”

Farrendel felt his muscles relax slightly. If this couple had ever hated the elves, it had long since faded into admiration, based on the way both of them were looking at Taranath as if ready to hang on every word he said.

Taranath tapped the stack of papers he had been perusing. “I have nothing to add besides my commendation for your work. You have accomplished a great deal without the benefit of magic to examine the brain yourselves. I am eager to see your methods in use.”

“It will be difficult. The nightmares we’ve been told you’re experiencing might get worse right at first.” Mrs. Harwell’s blue eyes fixed on Farrendel with a depth of sympathy. “But it does get better.”

Farrendel could no longer hold Mrs. Harwell’s gaze, and he focused on his and Essie’s clasped hands.

He could do this. He had dragged himself out of the darkness after torture once, though it had taken years.

This time, he had Essie to think about. He did not have the luxury of taking years to feel more like himself. For her sake, he had to fix this, fix himself, as much as was possible so that he could truly live. If this could help, if he could finally feel like he was winning the constant war in his head instead of feeling like he was barely surviving, then this would be worth it.

MELANTHA STRODE nextto her husband as they walked from the meeting room where they had spent the morning reading through petitions from Kostaria’s citizens and arranging the details of starting trade with Escarland by going through Tarenhiel. It was not as straightforward as it sounded. But after seeing how desperate the food situation was in Kostaria, Melantha was motivated to make sure the next shipment of food from Escarland arrived in time.

Melantha’s new wool tunic fell to her knees beneath a soft, leather vest while her toes were finally warm in her new, fur-lined boots. She wore thick leggings under the tunic and tucked into the boots. She had used several antler clips to pull her hair back from her face. It was not something she ever would have worn back in Tarenhiel, but, somehow, it felt right.

Deep in the lowest level of Khagniorth, Rharreth pushed open one of a set of large, stone double doors. “This is the training arena. It’s time I introduce you to the rest of my shield brothers.”

Melantha drew her shoulders straight as she followed Rharreth inside.

The training arena was a vast underground space with a domed ceiling of smooth rock. Rows of stone benches circled the room while a low wall separated the sand-covered combat floor from the seating.

Seven figures, six males and one female, sparred against each other in the center of the arena. Zavni swung his battle-ax, and Nirveeth blocked it with a spear as long as Melantha was tall and thicker than her wrist. Eyvindur swung his massive sword, parrying a thrust by Vriska’s sword.

Melantha did not know the other three troll warriors. One of them wielded an ax like Zavni’s while the other two had large swords.

Rharreth led Melantha between the rows of seats down to the flat combat area. When they reached the edge, Rharreth put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle that had Melantha wincing.