Page 30

D awn broke over the Craiggybottom district of D'thallanar, painting the clan house's ancient stone walls with golden light. Only hours had passed since our escape from the Assembly's dungeons, but already the guild compound had transformed into our temporary headquarters. Maps covered the long table in the war room, their surfaces marked with troop movements, supply lines, and the ever-shifting territories controlled by loyalists or rebels.

I stood at the window, watching as new contingents arrived by the hour, slipping through the city streets in small groups to avoid detection. Stoneriver archers in their distinctive blue-gray, Wolfheart infantry with their ceremonial spears, Northfire battle mages, and scattered groups of freed slaves who'd taken up arms for our cause. The night's rush of activity hadn't slowed with the dawn.

What had begun as a desperate rebellion was swiftly consolidating into an army that could challenge even Tarathiel's forces right within the capital's walls.

"The Wolfheart scouts report no sign of pursuit from the Assembly quadrant," Niro said, entering with a stack of dispatches. Despite only a few hours' rest, the general moved with purpose, though exhaustion still shadowed his eyes. "Tarathiel appears to be consolidating his position rather than actively hunting us through the city districts."

"A defensive strategy," I observed, returning to the table. "He controls the Assembly island and expects us to act rashly. He's preparing for us to attack."

"The question is whether we give him what he expects," Katyr leaned over the maps. "D'thallanar's Assembly island has never fallen to direct assault in its history. Even with our combined forces, a frontal attack would cost thousands of lives."

"And Tarathiel would sacrifice every civilian in the city before surrendering," I added, the knowledge bitter but certain. My father's ruthlessness was perhaps the only thing about him I could predict with absolute confidence.

"What of Lord Wolfheart?" I asked, the question that had been gnawing at me since our escape. "Did any of his men make it out of the tunnels?"

Aryn's expression tightened. "Three of his warriors survived. They report that Lord Wolfheart held the battle mages back, allowing us time to escape. He... did not survive."

My chest constricted painfully. "His body?"

"Still in the tunnels, according to the survivors. The battle mages withdrew after the fighting, apparently unwilling to linger with the spirits Daraith had unleashed."

"We need to recover him," I said firmly, any thought of strategy momentarily suspended. "I want him to receive proper rites and be honored as a hero."

Aryn nodded. "I've already dispatched a small team. If his body can be recovered, they will do so."

I nodded, throat tight with unexpected grief. Klaus Wolfheart had stood with me when it mattered most, had publicly broken with Tarathiel despite decades of alliance. His sacrifice had purchased our freedom at the highest cost.

"He died a hero," I said quietly. "When we win this war, his name will be honored above all others who stood with us."

Elindir entered, his copper hair still damp from washing. The sight of him, here and safe despite everything, sent a familiar warmth through me.

"Any word from Ieduin?" he asked, taking his place beside me at the table.

"Scouts report the Yeutish forces have cleared the northern checkpoint," Katyr replied, indicating the position on the map. "They should reach the outer gates within the hour."

A commotion in the corridor interrupted our planning. The doors burst open to reveal a figure I hadn't seen in months, though his flamboyant entrance remained unmistakable.

Ieduin stood framed in the doorway, red hair gleaming like fresh blood in the morning light. Multiple piercings adorned their ears and eyebrows, the metal catching the light with each animated movement. Their practical leathers had been replaced with an elaborate combination of traditional Yeutish furs and a deep blue tunic embroidered with gold thread, paired with a fur-lined cloak fastened with ornate clasps.

"Miss me, brother?" Their grin was sharp as a blade as they sauntered into the room.

Before I could respond, an enormous figure appeared behind him. Khulan Batai, prince of the Yeutish territories, ducked to clear the doorframe, his massive form dominating the space. Standing nearly seven feet tall, with shoulders broad as a cart, he made even the largest elves appear delicate by comparison.

"My King," Ieduin bowed with exaggerated formality, the gesture so unlike their usual irreverence that I immediately grew suspicious. "May I present Prince Khulan Batai of the Yeutish territories, my betrothed."

The word hung in the air for a moment before its meaning registered fully.

"Betrothed?" I repeated, unable to keep surprise from my voice. When Ieduin had left to negotiate with the northern tribes, marriage had not been among the expected outcomes.

"A mutually beneficial arrangement," Ieduin replied, though the flush creeping up their neck suggested more than political convenience. "The Yeutish customs require certain... formalities for alliance."

Khulan's deep laugh rumbled through the chamber as his massive hand settled on Ieduin's lower back, then slid deliberately lower to grab their ass firmly. "Your sibling makes our arrangement sound like a political formality," he said, his accent thick. "The truth is simpler. I saw Ieduin. I desired them. I claimed them as my own."

Ieduin squirmed away from his grip, their face now nearly as red as their hair. "Not now," they hissed, though there was no real anger in their tone, just embarrassed indignation. "We stand in a war council, discussing matters of battle and strategy."

"Among my people, the time before battle is when we most honor the pleasures of the flesh," Khulan replied without apology, though he did remove his hand, if reluctantly. "But I will respect your southern customs. For now."

I found myself struggling to maintain proper decorum as Ieduin straightened their clothing with more attention than necessary, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. My half-sibling, who had made an art form of outrageous behavior, now seemed utterly flustered by their enormous fiancé's straightforward possessiveness.

"Prince Khulan," I greeted formally, extending my hand. "Your assistance comes at a critical moment. We are grateful for the Yeutish support."

His handclasp nearly crushed my fingers despite his obvious restraint. "The northern tribes remember those who stand with them," he replied. "You supported our autonomy when others demanded submission. Now we return that loyalty."

Ieduin composed themself, moving to study the maps spread across the table. "We've brought thirty-five hundred warriors," they reported, their tone shifting to military formality. "Primarily infantry, though we have two hundred cavalry and a small contingent of shale-speakers."

"Shale-speakers?" Elindir questioned.

"Yeutish earth mages," Katyr explained. "They communicate with stone, persuading it to shift and move according to their will. Extremely valuable for sieges."

"Or for bypassing walls entirely," Khulan added with a predatory smile. "Stone responds differently to those who speak its ancient language rather than trying to force it."

This was unexpected but welcome news. D'thallanar's defenses, though formidable, were primarily stone and earth. If the Yeutish shale-speakers could create passageways or weaken walls from within...

"Show me where your forces are positioned," I requested, returning to the map.

Ieduin indicated various points around the city's northern approaches. "We've established three primary camps, here, here, and here," they said, fingers marking locations. "Khulan insisted on a visible presence to ensure Tarathiel understands the balance of power has shifted."

"While maintaining smaller, mobile units that can be deployed at short notice," Khulan added, leaning over the map. His massive frame dwarfed Ieduin beside him, though the contrast clearly pleased him, judging by the proprietary glance he cast down at my sibling's slender form.

Ieduin shifted slightly to create space between them, their expression innocently professional despite the obvious tension. "The shale-speakers need proximity to their targets," they continued, deliberately ignoring Khulan's amused smile. "They'll require at least two hours of preparation before attempting any significant manipulation of D'thallanar's defenses."

I nodded, already recalculating our strategy based on these new factors. "That's still faster than a conventional siege," I observed. "And with much lower casualty expectations."

"Speaking of reinforcements," Elindir interjected, "what news from Calibarra?"

"We intercepted a messenger from Calibarra on our way here," Ieduin replied, their expression softening unexpectedly. "Queen Taelyn should arrive by midday. She travels with a small but elite guard, and she brings the boys."

My breath caught. "Leif and Torsten are coming here? Into potential danger?"

"Taelyn's message was quite detailed," Ieduin continued, a hint of amusement touching their features. "According to her, they refused food until she agreed to bring them."

"They'll remain in the Craiggybottom compound," I declared, meeting Elindir's eyes. "Well protected and far from any fighting. But I... I'm glad they're coming."

"As am I," Elindir said softly.

Niro glanced between us. "The young princelings have everyone at Calibarra wrapped around their little fingers."

"Back to strategy," I prompted.

Niro nodded. "With the Yeutish forces added to our numbers, we now control significant portions of the outer districts. But Tarathiel still holds the Assembly island and the inner three rings."

Aryn traced the river on the map. "The bridges remain our only path forward. There are only four, and each is heavily fortified. My scouts report that Tarathiel has positioned elite forces at every crossing point."

"As expected," I said, studying the map carefully. "My father would never leave such obvious vulnerabilities unguarded."

Khulan leaned forward, his massive hands pressing against the table hard enough to make the wood creak. "The simple approach is sometimes best. We have the numbers now. We can overwhelm their defenses if we strike with sufficient force."

"The cost would be high," Ieduin objected. "Those bridges are designed to be defended by minimal forces against superior numbers. The first waves would be cut down before reaching the other side."

Khulan's hand descended to squeeze Ieduin's ass, this time with clear pride. "My little flame understands the risks but forgets we have little choice. Sometimes blood must be paid."

Ieduin swatted the hand away. "Boundaries," they hissed, though the corner of their mouth twitched as if suppressing a smile. "We discussed this."

"You discussed. I listened. There is a difference." Khulan's unrepentant grin suggested this was a familiar exchange between them.

I redirected their attention to the maps. "There are no other options. The river is too deep, the currents too dangerous for any crossing except at the bridges. We cannot reach Tarathiel without taking at least one, and the more we take, the better."

“What if Tarathiel simply destroys the bridges once we're committed to the assault?" Aryn asked. "He could trap us on the approach while eliminating our path forward. It's what I would do."

A shocked silence fell over the war council. Katyr looked at Aryn with barely concealed horror while Ieduin shifted uncomfortably. Even Niro, hardened by decades of warfare, seemed taken aback by the cold calculation in Aryn's voice.

"You'd sacrifice your own soldiers so completely?" Ieduin finally asked.

Aryn shrugged, unmoved by their reactions. "The Shikami taught that victory justifies any cost. Losing half your forces to ensure the enemy's total defeat is mathematically sound."

I studied my half-brother. The Shikami's training methods were notorious even among elves. They bred perfect weapons, not soldiers with consciences.

Captain Seagrave cleared her throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Regardless, he would never risk it. Those bridges are the Assembly island's lifeline. Without them, no supplies reach the island, no reinforcements arrive. He would be trapping himself as surely as stopping us."

"Besides," Niro added, "destroying the bridges would kill as many of his own soldiers as ours. He's positioned his elite forces at those chokepoints. Even Tarathiel isn't that ruthless toward his own men."

I nodded in agreement. "My father is cold, calculating, but he's not suicidal. The bridges stay."

"Our forces outnumber his considerably," Niro observed, tracing potential routes. "If we concentrate our strength on two bridges simultaneously, it would force him to divide his defensive forces."

"The eastern and western bridges then," Katyr suggested. "They're farther apart, making it more difficult for Tarathiel to quickly reinforce either position if pressed."

I nodded. "We'll use our numbers to our advantage. Multiple waves of attackers. The first will absorb the initial defenses, creating openings for those who follow."

"A costly approach," Aryn noted quietly. "The first waves will suffer tremendous casualties."

"I know," I said, the weight of those future deaths settling heavily on my shoulders. "But there is no other way to reach the Assembly island. Tarathiel has made sure of that."

Khulan straightened to his full, imposing height. "My warriors volunteer to lead the first charge at the eastern bridge. The Yeutish are accustomed to paying blood prices for victory."

"And my Broken Blades will take the western approach," Niro added firmly. "They've trained for this kind of assault."

I studied the map once more, committing the details to memory. "The Craiggybottom fleet will secure the river once we’ve taken the bridges," I decided. “Have them moved closer to the city. I want them to be seen approaching the walls to draw fire.”

"It might thin his reserves slightly," Elindir acknowledged. "Every defender drawn away from the bridges increases our chances."

"The losses will be severe," I said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "Make sure your warriors understand what we're asking of them."

"They know," Khulan answered simply. "They fight for a future worth dying for."

As we finalized the initial assault plans, another messenger arrived, slightly breathless. "Queen Taelyn's party has been sighted approaching the eastern gate. They should arrive within the hour."

"I should greet them personally," I decided, rolling up the maps we'd been studying. "Elindir, will you join me?"

His expression lightened immediately. "Of course."

"I've never seen Ieduin so thoroughly outmaneuvered," I observed once we were alone, allowing a smile to break through. "Usually they're the one causing discomfort, not experiencing it."

"They appear well-matched," Elindir replied diplomatically, though amusement danced in his eyes. "Khulan seems to genuinely adore them."

"In a very... direct way," I agreed. "I never thought I'd see Ieduin, of all people, so scandalized."

"Perhaps because they're usually the instigator rather than the recipient," Elindir suggested. "It's different when you're the one being claimed rather than doing the claiming."

The observation struck home with unexpected relevance. I remembered how Elindir had initially resisted my possessive displays when he first came to me as a slave, and how he had fought against being treated as property. How different things were now, when touch between us represented choice rather than compulsion.

As we made our way toward the compound's main gates to await Taelyn's arrival, I allowed my hand to find his, our fingers intertwining naturally. "Are you ready to see the boys?"

"More than ready. I've thought of little else since learning they were coming. Although…" His expression fell. “I’m not looking forward to informing Taelyn about her father.”

The weight of that responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders. "Klaus died a hero. He gave his life so we could escape."

"She loved him deeply," Elindir said quietly. "Despite their political differences. This will devastate her."

"It feels selfish to be excited about a family reunion in the midst of war preparations," I admitted. "And now, to have this grief waiting for Taelyn..."

"Not selfish," he corrected. "Essential. They're why we fight in the first place. For their future. For all the children who deserve to grow up without collars or conscription. And Klaus understood that too, in the end. He died for that future."

My heart grew heavy at the prospect of confirming her father's death. There would be time for that grief later, after the joy of reunion with the boys. For now, I focused on the two small figures riding double on a pony led by one of the guards. Leif sat straight, his solemn face scanning the courtyard with careful assessment until his eyes found us. Beside him, Torsten practically bounced with excitement, his wild curls escaping the hood of his travel cloak.

"Elindir! King Ruith!" Torsten's shout carried across the courtyard as he attempted to dismount before the pony had fully stopped, nearly falling in his eagerness.

Leif's hand shot out, steadying his foster brother with the instinctive protectiveness I'd come to recognize in him. Only when the guard properly helped them down did he release his grip on Torsten's cloak.

What dignity they might have maintained dissolved instantly as both boys sprinted across the courtyard. Elindir dropped to one knee, arms opening just in time to catch Torsten's flying tackle of an embrace. Leif approached with only slightly more restraint before flinging himself forward as well.

I watched, heart full, as Elindir held them both, his copper head bent close to their darker ones, their small arms locked around his neck with desperate strength. Words passed between them, too quiet for me to hear, but the emotion was clear in every line of their bodies.

Then Leif pulled back slightly, his solemn eyes finding mine over Elindir's shoulder. My throat tightened at the naked hope in his expression.

"You came back," he said simply. "Both of you."

"As we promised," I replied, kneeling beside Elindir to bring myself to their level.

For a heartbeat, Leif studied me. Then he launched himself from Elindir's arms into mine, his thin body colliding with enough force to nearly topple me.

"We knew you would," he whispered against my neck, his voice carrying a tremor that belied his confident words. "Even when the others weren't sure, we knew."

Torsten scrambled to join us, his arms attempting to wrap around all three of us at once.

I held them both.

"We have something important to tell you," I said when I could trust my voice again. "Something Elindir and I decided together."

Both boys grew still, their eyes moving between us with expressions caught between hope and wariness.

I knelt before the boys, bringing myself to their level. "Leif, Torsten," I began, my voice softening, "while I was imprisoned, I made an important decision. I want to adopt you both formally, to make you officially my sons and princes of House Starfall."

Leif's breath caught, his eyes widening. Though we had discussed the possibility before, the formality of this moment seemed to strike him anew.

I turned to Elindir, who was watching with an expression of surprise and deep emotion. "Elindir and I have spoken, and he shares my wish. We want you to be our sons, not just our wards."

"Nothing would make me prouder than to call you our sons," Elindir said, voice thick with emotion.

Torsten's mouth fell open, his expression almost comical in its astonishment. "We'd be princes?" he asked, eyes wide. "Like, actual real princes?"

"More importantly," Elindir added gently, "you'd be our sons. Regardless of titles or politics, you would be ours and we would be yours. Forever."

Leif's eyes filled suddenly with tears, though his expression remained solemn. "No one could ever separate us? Not even if—" He stopped, unable to voice the fear that clearly haunted him.

"No one," I promised fiercely. "Not ever. No matter what happens in this war or any other, you would be our children by law and by choice. Nothing can break that bond."

Torsten's face crumpled suddenly as the full emotional weight hit him. "Like a real family?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"With parents who will never leave you willingly," Elindir finished for him, gathering the boy close as sobs overtook him. "Who will love you and protect you as long as we draw breath."

Leif remained very still in my arms, his eyes moving between us as if searching for some sign of uncertainty or deception. "Would you be disappointed if we weren't... if we couldn't be like elven princes? If we stayed just human?"

My heart broke at the vulnerability in the question. These boys, who had suffered under elven masters, now worried they might somehow disappoint us by their very nature.

"Leif," I said, making sure he met my eyes, "you and Torsten are perfect exactly as you are. We don't want elven sons. We want you, both of you, exactly as you are."

"If anything," Elindir added, "being different is your strength. You'll understand both worlds in a way no one else can. That's a gift, not a flaw."

"When?" Lief asked, pragmatic as always despite the tears still clinging to his lashes.

"The formal ceremony will happen after we secure D'thallanar," I explained. "But the documents are already prepared. Legally, you would be our sons from the moment we sign them."

"Could we do that now?" Leif asked. "Before the battle? Just in case..."

He didn't finish the thought, but he didn't need to. Even at his young age, Leif understood the uncertainties of war. The possibility that promises made for after might never come to pass.

"Of course," I agreed immediately. "Today, if you wish. The documents are in my quarters."

"Now," Torsten confirmed, wiping his tears with his sleeve. "Right now."

"Yes," I agreed, "today. As soon as possible."

"Queen Taelyn could witness," Elindir suggested, glancing toward where she stood conferring with her guards. "And we could ask Representative Seagrave as well."

I nodded, the plan forming quickly. "We'll have a private ceremony in our quarters. Small, but meaningful."

"We’ll be family," Leif said quietly, a small smile finally breaking through his solemn expression.

The word held such weight coming from him, this boy who had survived slavery and war with a resilience that humbled me. I pulled him closer, his thin body fitting perfectly against my side as if he had always belonged there.

“We’ve always been family,” I told him. “This is just paperwork.”