Page 15 of The War of Four Winters

"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.

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