Page 6

Elindir

D awn spilled through the frost-etched columns, painting the practice yard in pale gold. Frozen breath hung in clouds around us as wooden practice swords clacked together, the sound sharp in the winter air. Leif's face was a mask of concentration, his small jaw clenched tight as he parried my deliberately slow attack. Though barely ten, there was something in his eyes that belonged to a much older soul.

"Better," I said as he successfully blocked a sequence we'd been practicing for days. “Trust your instincts. Your body remembers even if you don’t.”

He nodded once, that solemn little gesture that made my chest ache. When we'd first removed his collar, he'd barely spoken for weeks. Now his responses were measured, deliberate, as if testing each word before allowing it past his lips.

"Again?" he asked, wooden sword already raised in perfect form.

"First, what did you notice about my attack?"

His brow furrowed. "You favored your right side. Left a gap."

"Good. And did you exploit it?"

He shook his head, eyes dropping briefly to the packed snow beneath our boots. "I was too focused on remembering everything else."

"That's how it starts," I assured him, reaching out to ruffle his dark hair. "First, you master the forms. Then you learn to see beyond them. That part comes with time."

Torsten's whoop of excitement broke our moment as he charged across the yard, wooden sword held aloft like a conquering hero. "Master Gracin says I'm getting better at the shield block! He let me try with the metal ones today, not just the wooden practice shields!"

He skidded to a stop beside us, cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. At eight, Torsten was all exuberance and motion, a perpetual storm of energy that contrasted sharply with Leif's quiet intensity. Yet beneath his wild curls and gap-toothed grin lay the same shadows, the same scars left by the collar he'd worn half his young life.

"Did he now?" I asked, giving him a serious nod. "That's excellent progress. Perhaps you can show Leif and me after breakfast."

"Can I, Elindir? And can I try your sword? Not to swing, just to hold it. Master Gracin says a warrior should know the weight of real steel." The words tumbled out in a rush, his whole body practically vibrating with hope.

I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. Torsten's admiration for Master Gracin had grown into something approaching hero worship over these past weeks. The gruff blacksmith had an unexpected gentleness with children, especially those who showed an interest in his craft. More than once, I'd found Torsten perched on a stool in the forge, watching with wide-eyed fascination as Gracin transformed metal into tools of survival and beauty.

"Master Gracin is teaching me about different metals," Torsten continued, puffing his chest out. "He says I have good hands for smithing.”

"Does he now?" It was good to see Torsten taking such an interest. "A smith is always needed, in peace or war."

"He's letting me help with the small hammers," Torsten confided, lowering his voice as if sharing a precious secret. "And someday, when I'm bigger, he says I might make a real sword like yours.”

"Well then, a future smith should indeed feel the weight of real steel. After breakfast, we'll see."

Something dark flickered in Leif's eyes at the mention of breakfast, a memory perhaps of times when food had been withheld as punishment. I pretended not to notice, knowing how fiercely he guarded his pride. Instead, I placed a hand on each boy's shoulder, guiding them toward the fortress.

"You're both improving faster than I did at your age," I told them, watching how they straightened under the praise. "My old sword master would have been impressed."

"Was he as strict as Master Gracin?" Torsten asked, skipping to keep pace with my longer strides.

"Stricter," I replied, remembering Swordmaster Halden's merciless training sessions in Ostovan's western courtyard. Another life ago, when I'd been Prince Elindir, not yet broken and remade. "But he taught me to survive."

"Is that why you're teaching us?" Leif asked quietly. "To survive?"

The question caught me off guard with its directness. I stopped at the fortress entrance, crouching to their level. Snow crunched beneath my knee as I met their gazes—Leif's guarded brown eyes, Torsten's wide, trusting blue ones.

"I'm teaching you because the world is sometimes cruel," I said carefully. "But also because there's joy in mastering your own body, in knowing what you're capable of." I touched the faint scar where my collar had once been. "And because no one will ever control either of you again."

Torsten nodded solemnly, though I suspected he understood only part of what I meant. Leif, however, held my gaze with unsettling comprehension.

"Are you going away soon?" Leif asked.

I managed not to flinch at the unexpected directness. "For a short journey," I replied, deliberately keeping my tone light. "Important business for the king."

"An adventure?" Torsten's face lit up with excitement.

"Just boring diplomatic meetings," I assured them with a smile. "Nothing as exciting as your training."

"Will you bring us back something?" Torsten asked, already distracted by the possibility of gifts.

"Perhaps. If you're both diligent with your studies while I'm gone." I ruffled his hair, grateful for his easy redirection.

Leif wasn't so easily diverted. His eyes held mine, seeing more than he should have . "Will you be safe?"

"I'll have twenty of General Niro's best warriors with me," I said, choosing honesty without unnecessary detail. "And I'm rather skilled with a blade myself, you know."

"You're the best!" Torsten declared with absolute conviction. "Even Master Gracin says so!"

A smile tugged at my lips despite the weight in my chest. "Something like that. Now, breakfast before your lessons. Go wash up. I’ll meet you in the great hall.”

They raced ahead, Torsten's boundless energy pulling Leif along in his wake. I watched them disappear into the fortress, an ache building in my throat. The thought of leaving them, even for a few days, made my insides feel hollow. Those boys had wound themselves around my heart, and I was hesitant to abandon them, even for a short while.

The great hall buzzed with morning activity as I entered. Servants hurried between tables carrying platters of steaming food, while soldiers and castle folk broke their fast together. Windows high above let in pale winter light, catching on frost patterns that decorated the ancient glass. Despite the cold outside, the hall remained one of the warmest places in Calibarra, massive hearths at either end radiating heat across the stone floor.

"My lord consort," Hawk greeted as I approached, rising slightly before I waved him down.

"Please, continue your meal," I said, sliding onto the bench beside him. "I see Torsten is showing you his progress."

"Impressive form for one so young," Hawk replied, his voice carrying the authority of decades in battle. "Both of them learn quickly."

I nodded my thanks as a servant placed a steaming bowl before me. The porridge was thick with honey and dried fruits, far better fare than I'd expected during a winter war. My eyes found Leif, watching as he meticulously separated each different item in his bowl before eating. Another habit from his time in captivity, perhaps. I'd noticed how carefully he monitored his food, as if expecting it to be taken away at any moment.

"Captain Yisra's messenger bird arrived this morning," Hawk said quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "Her ship makes good time, despite the weather. She'll dock as scheduled, two days from now."

I frowned and shifted in my seat, eager to direct the conversation away from my impending departure. Especially in front of the boys. "We need more blankets for the eastern hall," I told him, keeping my voice low. "And the food stores—"

"Already on it," Hawk cut in, his calloused hand waving away my concern. "Had the quartermaster pull everything we could spare. Got the kitchen lads preparing extra broth, too." He took a hearty swig of ale, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Been a soldier and a slave both in my time. Know what folk need when they first taste freedom."

I nodded, grateful for his practical experience. "And the training for those who wish to fight?"

"Got three groups going now." A hint of pride crept into his gruff voice. " They're coming along quick. Could have 'em ready for light patrol in a fortnight." He leaned closer, lowering his voice further. "Truth be told, some of 'em fight better than half the fancy-bred soldiers I've known."

I nodded, watching Torsten demonstrate another move to an increasingly amused Leif. "The refugee numbers grow daily."

Hawk's weathered face softened with unusual compassion. "Three more groups arrived before dawn. Mostly from the northern estates." He spat to the side, a habit from his mercenary days that he'd never bothered to change despite his position. "Word of freedom spreads faster than winter fire."

"How many this time?"

"Twenty-seven. Nine wee ones and four old-timers." His voice dropped, rough with barely contained anger. "Some look like they've been worked half to death. Healers are patching 'em up best they can."

My fingers tightened around my spoon. I forced them to relax before the boys could notice my tension.

"You got that look again," Hawk observed gruffly, his weathered eyes missing nothing. "The one that says you're blaming yourself for every lash mark on their backs."

I glanced quickly at the boys to ensure they weren't listening before responding. "Every day I spend preparing for this mission is another day Michail's poison spreads."

"Aye, and rushing in half-cocked would get you killed," he countered bluntly. "No good to anyone then, least of all these wee ones." He nodded toward Leif and Torsten. "They need you alive more than they need you playing the hero."

The words struck deeper than I wanted to admit. My gaze drifted to the boys, watching how Torsten gestured wildly while recounting some tale to an attentive Leif. In the days since I'd brought them to Calibarra, they'd begun to heal in ways that sometimes seemed miraculous. The nightmares came less frequently. Leif spoke more often. Torsten laughed without looking over his shoulder.

Before I could respond, the great hall's doors opened. The boys instantly perked up when they saw Ruith, Katyr, and Aryn.

"That’s my cue to see myself out," Hawk told me, rising with a respectful nod toward Ruith. "Best I check on those new recruits before they hurt themselves with wooden swords." He offered a rougher bow to the king before departing, clapping Katyr's shoulder as he passed.

Ruith approached our table, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from my lips before taking a seat. The casual display of affection drew giggles from Torsten.

"I hear there have been remarkable advances with shield work," Ruith said, his eyes finding Torsten, who nearly vibrated with excitement at being directly addressed.

"Master Gracin let me try the metal shields today!" Torsten announced proudly. "He says I have good hands for smithing."

"High praise indeed," Ruith replied seriously. "Master Gracin rarely compliments anyone's work."

Katyr settled beside me on the bench with easy grace, his golden curls catching the morning light. "We come bearing news," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "A message arrived from Ieduin."

My heart jumped. "So soon? They can't have crossed the mountains yet."

"They haven't," Ruith confirmed. "The message came by falcon from the northern foothills. They've cleared the first mountain pass and expect to reach the Yeutish border in another fortnight, if the weather holds."

"Khulan's knowledge of the mountain routes is proving invaluable," Katyr added. "Though I suspect the journey itself might be... politically productive, regardless of when they arrive."

That drew a smile from me. Khulan's intentions toward Ieduin had been made abundantly clear before their departure. The Yeutish prince had openly declared his interest, much to Ieduin's poorly disguised fascination. "Has he mentioned how negotiations with Khulan are progressing?" I asked, careful to keep my tone neutral despite the boys' presence.

"He writes that they've come to several mutually beneficial agreements already," Ruith replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Though the specifics were notably absent."

"Perhaps we'll end up with a marriage alliance rather than a hostage exchange," Katyr suggested. "It would certainly simplify matters with Kudai."

As if summoned by the mention of exchanges, Lady Altani appeared at the far end of the hall, escorted by one of Taelyn's handmaidens. At fifteen, the Yeutish girl carried herself with a dignity that belied her age, her dark braids adorned with the traditional silver beads of her people. Until recently, she had been Niro's wife, a political marriage forced by Tarathiel that Ruith had annulled upon taking the throne. Now she was Ruith's honored guest , her presence in Calibarra both leverage and protection.

She caught sight of our table and offered a formal bow in Ruith's direction before continuing on her way. I noticed how Katyr's expression softened slightly watching her. His kindness toward the girl had been consistent since her arrival, perhaps recognizing in her something of his own childhood experience as a political pawn.

"She seems to be adapting well," I noted quietly.

"Taelyn has taken her under her protection," Ruith replied. "They spend hours discussing the northern traditions they share."

"Let's hope her uncle values her return enough to commit his warriors to our cause," Katyr added, his voice carefully neutral. "Though I suspect Khulan's personal interest in Ieduin might prove more persuasive than any hostage exchange we could arrange."

"Can Lord Katyr show us more magic today?" Torsten interrupted. "Master Lentin said we might see the blue flames if we finish our lessons early."

Katyr laughed, the sound bright in the morning air. "Perhaps a small demonstration before your studies," he agreed with a wink in my direction. "If your guardian approves."

"I've learned not to stand between you and an appreciative audience," I replied dryly, though the boys' excitement was infectious.

Leif, quieter as always, studied Ruith with that perceptive gaze that seemed to see more than it should. "Are you worried about Elindir going away?" he asked suddenly.

The table fell silent at the direct question. Ruith's expression shifted, surprise giving way to something more measured as he considered his response.

"I worry whenever family is apart," he said finally, his honesty clearly calibrated for young ears. "But I also trust in Elindir's strength and skill."

"And he'll have twenty of General Niro's best warriors with him," Katyr added cheerfully. "The finest fighters in the realm, except perhaps for the four of us at this table."

Torsten's chest puffed with pride at being included in this assessment, while Leif seemed to consider the information seriously.

"Captain Yisra's ship arrives in two days," I reminded them, keeping my tone deliberately light. "Just a short journey to discuss boring diplomatic matters."

"And then you'll come back," Leif stated.

"And then I'll come back," I agreed firmly.

As we finished our meal, Ruith's attention turned to more serious matters. "The new arrivals are settling in?"

"Three groups came before dawn," I explained. "Twenty-seven in total. Some in rough shape."

"The healers have been working since first light," Katyr confirmed. "Most will recover quickly enough with proper food and rest. Though the continued influx stretches our resources."

"Yet we cannot turn them away," Ruith said firmly. "Not when they've risked everything to reach us."

Leif, who had been quietly listening, spoke up. "Is that why we're helping the new children in our lessons? Because they're like us?"

The perceptiveness of the question caught me off guard. "Yes," I replied honestly. "They need to know they're safe here. That they belong."

"I was scared when I first came," Torsten admitted, a rare moment of vulnerability beneath his usual exuberance. "But not anymore."

"And why is that?" Ruith asked gently.

Torsten's answer came without hesitation. "Because Elindir promised to protect us. And you're the king, so no one can make us go back."

The simple faith in his voice made something in my chest tighten. These children, who had seen the worst of both human and elven cruelty, still found the courage to trust. To believe in the fragile world we were trying to build.

"That's exactly right," Ruith confirmed, his voice carrying an authority that even the youngest could recognize as absolute. "No one will ever put collars on you again. Not while I draw breath."

"Now," Katyr said, clearly sensing the conversation needed lightening, "I believe I promised a small magical demonstration before lessons."

The boys' faces brightened immediately. Torsten actually bounced in his seat while even Leif leaned forward with interest.

"A very small demonstration," I cautioned, though I couldn't help smiling at their excitement. "Master Lentin is expecting them for their studies."

"Just a taste," Katyr agreed, his fingers already tracing patterns in the air. Blue light gathered at his fingertips, coalescing into tiny creatures made of blue fire that danced above our table: birds, butterflies, miniature dragons that occasionally puffed harmless sparks.

The delight on the boys' faces was worth every hardship, every battle that had brought us to this moment. This was what I would carry with me to Homeshore and back again. This was worth fighting for.