Page 38

R age no longer consumed me as it once had. Now something else burned in its place as I stood on D'thallanar's western wall, something that tasted of hope, of purpose. The sun beat against my face, drawing sweat despite the lingering chill of early spring. Before me spread what would have seemed impossible just months ago: the largest army ever assembled under a single elven banner. Not just any banner. Our banner. Blue and plum blossom, Ruith's colors merged with my own.

Thousands of tents carpeted the plains beyond the city, a vast encampment that stretched to the horizon. Cookfires dotted the landscape, thin columns of smoke rising into the cloudless sky. The wind carried the sounds of hammers striking metal as smiths repaired armor, horses nickering in temporary corrals, the low rhythmic chanting of battle mages preparing joint workings. Beneath it all, I caught the scent of wildflowers pushing through soil still cold from winter, their fragrance mingling with woodsmoke and oiled steel.

Banners of all twelve clans snapped in the wind like dragon wings. Redrocks sparred with Stonerivers in the training circles, former enemies now sharing techniques that would have been unthinkable before Ruith's reign. Redrock riders tended their mounts, preparing saddles and tack for tomorrow's march. Near the eastern edge of the camp, Katyr led the Runecleaver battle mages through spell coordination exercises, blue fire occasionally erupting from his fingertips.

Beyond the elven sections rose the distinctive round tents of the Yeutish warriors, their clan symbols rendered in leather and precious metals that caught the morning light. Somewhere out there, Ieduin was likely leading a brigade of horseback archers through exercises while Khulan boomed with laughter.

Farther east, where morning shadows still stretched long, loomed the imposing camp of the Spine tribes. Unlike the organized rows of elven tents or the circular patterns of the Yeutish, the Spine warriors had arranged their shelters in tight defensive clusters resembling the mountain formations of their homeland. The Empress of Bones had brought nearly five hundred of her fierce women warriors, their tents dark as volcanic stone and adorned with bleached animal skulls that gleamed like pale stars against the shadows.

Most remarkable of all were the quarters of freed slaves who had chosen to fight alongside us. Their tents were simpler, often repurposed from materials at hand, but arranged with the efficiency of those who understood survival. Some had been with us since Calibarra. Others were newly freed by Ruith's abolition decree, still learning to fight.

"They're ready," I said as Ruith joined me on the wall.

"As ready as they can be," he agreed, turning to face me. "Michail's forces outnumber us still, but not by the margins they once did."

I nodded, studying the assembled warriors. "Numbers aren't everything. Our people are fighting for their homes, their families, their freedom. That makes a difference on the battlefield."

"And they have better leadership," Ruith added with quiet pride. "Niro has organized the most efficient system of battlefield communication I've ever seen. The clan forces actually work together instead of competing for glory."

"Something of a miracle, that," I remarked with a smile. "Though I suspect Niro's reputation for creative punishment helped persuade the more stubborn commanders."

We fell into comfortable silence, watching the preparations unfold across the plain. Two months had passed since I'd nearly drowned in the Thallan River, since Ruith had confronted his father and ended their civil war. Two months of healing, planning, and fighting to get his policies passed in the Assembly. Now, the days had grown longer, and the nights warmer. Soon, we’d be ready to march on Homeshore.

"The boys asked to come to the wall this morning," I said. "They wanted to see the army before we leave."

I watched Ruith's expression transform at the mention of our sons, the hardened warrior-king giving way to something softer, something precious few ever witnessed. "What did you tell them?"

"That they'll see it tomorrow, when we review the troops together as a family." I turned to face him. "They need to witness this, Ruith. They need to understand what we're fighting for, what they'll inherit."

He nodded. That simple acceptance warmed something in my chest that had been frozen for too long. "You're right. They're princes of House Starfall now. This is their legacy taking shape before our eyes." Ruith turned to me, taking my hands. "I’ve been thinking about what happens after the war.”

“Oh?” I arched an eyebrow. “Making plans without me?”

“Never,” he said and kissed the end of my nose. “I’m telling you now.”

“Then tell me. How do you plan to spend the years of hard-won peace?”

He smiled. “By building schools.”

I frowned. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. “Schools?”

Ruith nodded and glanced back out over the war camp. “This is what they’re going to remember me for,” he said. There was almost a sadness in his tone as he spoke. “I’ll be forever known as the rebel king, no matter what I do. But still… There’s a part of me that wants to be remembered for more. So I want to build schools everywhere, Elindir. Places where humans and elves can go to get an education free of charge. Every child should learn to read and write and calculate, and to learn the history and laws of the land. Ensuring that knowledge is freely available and widespread is crucial to maintaining the world we’re building for future generations.”

“I like it,” I said, leaning into him. “But the Assembly won’t. Especially the Ivygrass clan.”

He snorted. “Of course. Their first question is going to be how we’ll pay for it.”

“I suppose you have a plan for that too, do you?” I asked, looking up at him.

Ruith’s smile widened. “War is a very expensive endeavor. The annual raids on the human lands and the war in the north kept us always on the brink of bankruptcy. By ending them, and expanding the trade routes, the realm will flourish. What better way to spend all that money than on books instead of blades?”

“They’ll call you mad,” I said, and Ruith laughed. "I’m serious, Ruith. It won't be easy. There will be resistance. Setbacks. Compromises that taste like ash." I thought of the conversations I'd overheard in the palace corridors, the cold looks from traditionalist houses, the thinly veiled threats against the human consort who dared sit at the king's right hand.

"Nothing worthwhile ever comes easily," he conceded, his jaw tightening in that familiar expression of stubborn resolve. "But for the first time since I began this rebellion, I truly believe it's possible." He gestured toward the vast army spread across the plain. "Look at what we've already accomplished. Elves and humans fighting side by side. Clans that have spilled each other's blood for generations now training together. Even the Yeutish—our bitterest enemies—have joined our cause."

I looked out at the gathered army. "We've come a long way from the days when you kept me in a cage."

Ruith laughed at my words, though there was a shadow of regret in his eyes. "A mistake I'll spend the rest of my days making up for."

I brushed my fingers against his, a small gesture of forgiveness we'd exchanged countless times. "You've already done that. The world we're building is worth whatever came before."

He took my hand in his, our fingers intertwining.

"Do you think we can win?" I asked, watching as a group of former slaves practiced shield formations under Niro's critical eye.

"Against Michail?" Ruith's gaze drifted toward the distant horizon where Homeshore lay waiting. "Yes, I believe so.”

A familiar voice called from behind us. "Father! Elindir!"

We turned to find Torsten racing toward us, Leif following at a more measured pace. Taelyn walked behind them, a diplomatic smile on her face that suggested our sons had been particularly persuasive.

"I thought we agreed they would see the army tomorrow," Ruith said, raising an eyebrow at Taelyn.

She shrugged. "They presented a compelling case. Leif had several questions about battle logistics that I thought you might better address."

Torsten reached us first, immediately launching into excited questions. "Is it true we leave tomorrow? How many days will you be gone? Will you write to us?"

While Ruith fielded Torsten's barrage of questions, I knelt beside Leif, whose thoughtful eyes were fixed on the vast encampment below.

"It's bigger than I imagined," he said quietly.

"It is," I agreed.

Taelyn joined us at the wall, her eyes scanning the Wolfheart banners in the distance. "The scouts report clear weather on the horizon. Good conditions for marching."

"Then we leave at tomorrow," Ruith confirmed. "We should reach Homeshore within two weeks if we maintain pace."

Two weeks before I would face my brother for the final time, the man who had sold me into slavery and now sought to exterminate an entire people to slow his own descent into madness.

"Father! Elindir! Look!" Torsten pointed excitedly toward the river. "It's Uncle Tariq's ship!"

Sure enough, The Mirage's distinctive black sails were visible on the horizon, making its way upriver toward D'thallanar.

"Your brother has good timing," Ruith observed.

"He has a gift for dramatic entrances," I agreed, remembering our unexpected meeting in Saltmire. "Though I'm glad he's chosen to stand with us."

“Come on, then.” Ruith hoisted Leif up onto his shoulders. He was wearing the biggest grin I’d ever seen. “Let’s go say hello.”