Page 19 of The War of Four Winters

"Ready?" I asked, though we both knew the answer didn't matter. We could delay no longer.

He nodded, squaring his shoulders beneath the fine jacket. The movement was pure warrior, at odds with the courtly cut of his clothes. "The boys will be waiting in the great hall. Walk with me?"

We found them exactly where he predicted, huddled near one of the great fireplaces. Torsten spotted us first, abandoning his breakfast to launch himself at Elindir. My consort caught him easily, gathering the boy close while Leif approached more slowly.

"You'll come back?" Leif's voice was barely above a whisper, his pale fingers twisting in his shirt. "You promise?"

Elindir knelt, still holding Torsten with one arm while reaching for Leif with the other. "I swear it. By the Eight Divines and Valdrida the Shield Mother, I will return to you both."

"But what if he hurts you again?" Torsten's words were muffled against Elindir's chest. "What if..."

"Then I will fight," Elindir said firmly. "I'm stronger now than I was before. Wiser." He pulled back enough to meet their eyes. "And I have so much more worth fighting for."

He handled their fears so easily. The man who had once been my slave now moved with the quiet authority of someone who knew exactly who and what he was. Someone who had found his own power not in titles or politics, but in the simple act of caring for others.

"Besides," he continued, smoothing Torsten's wild curls, "I'm not going alone. Captain Yisra's crew is the finest on these waters. And the Broken Blades will be with me every step of the way."

Another bell rang in the harbor, longer this time. Final call. Elindir hugged both boys fiercely before rising. "Be good for Ruith," he told them. "And keep practicing your letters. I want to hear you read that whole book when I return."

"Even the hard parts?" Torsten's nose wrinkled.

"Especially the hard parts." Elindir ruffled his hair one last time. "That's how we grow stronger."

I caught the slight tremor in his hands as he turned away, the way his breath hitched when Leif called out one final, "Be safe!" But his stride remained steady as we walked through Calibarra's halls toward the waiting ship.

The fortress had awakened, corridors bustling with activity. Servants and soldiers alike paused to bow as we passed, murmuring "my king" and "my lord consort" with equal respect.

We emerged into the courtyard, where twenty of the Broken Blades waited in formation. The chosen warriors from Niro's elite unit stood sharp and ready, their black armor gleaming in the morning light. A quarter of the full regiment's strength, but more than enough to ensure my consort reached Homeshore safely while leaving the fortress well defended.

"A moment," I said quietly as Elindir started toward them. When he turned, I caught his face between my hands and kissed him hard enough to draw murmurs from the watching crowd.

When we broke apart, his eyes held fire despite the worry lurking in their depths. "That wasn't very kingly of you," he murmured, cheeks flushed.

"No," I agreed, touching my forehead to his. "But it was honest."

The sun had fully risen, but cold lingered in the air alongside the promise of snow. Elindir's copper hair caught the light like a war banner as he straightened his jacket and turned toward his waiting escort. Each step carried him further from me, but his head remained high, shoulders set with purpose.

I watched until he disappeared down the harbor path, until even the sound of the Broken Blades' boots on stone faded into morning silence. Only then did I allow myself to touch the aching scar along my ribs. One day each year spent in death's cold embrace, traded for his life. What were a few more days of darkness if needed? What wouldn't I sacrifice to keep him safe?

But that choice wasn't mine anymore. He walked his own path now, carried his own power. All I could do was trust in his strength and wait for his return.

The fortress waited for its king's attention. Refugees needed housing, supplies needed counting, a thousand tasks required guidance. I turned away from the gates and went to find Leif and Torsten. They would need someone to sit with at breakfast, after all.

Thenightskystretchedacross the horizon, an endless tapestry of stars reflecting in the dark waters below. I stood alone at the ship's rail, my fingers gripping the weathered wood as Captain Yisra's vessel cut through the waves. The wind caught my copper hair, making it dance across my face as I stared out at the boundless sea. My stomach lurched with the ship's movement, a queasy reminder that the open ocean and I had never been friends. I swallowed hard, determined to master the seasickness that had plagued me since we'd left the land.

My last voyage had been so different.

Then, I had been chained to a bench in an elven longboat during a violent storm, a heavy collar chafing my neck raw as I huddled among other captured humans. I remembered the terror that had consumed me as waves rose like mountains around us, how I'd clung to Ruith with white-knuckled terror, sobbing soundlessly as the primal fear took hold. The humiliation of vomiting over the side while he held me there, the sailors' snickers until Ruith silenced them. Later, how I'd instinctively caught him when a wave nearly threw him overboard, though I'd had every reason to let him drown.

Now I stood on the main deck of a proper ship, the salt breeze cleansing my lungs, dressed in fine clothing bearing the blue of House Starfall. The vessel sailed at my command, its crew and the twenty Broken Blades aboard subject to my orders.

Something about the open water made memories surface. My hand moved unconsciously to the back of my neck where the collar had once been. The skin there was still sensitive, slightly rougher than the rest. Just as the scars on my back still pulled when I stretched certain ways.

"Reminiscing, Lord Consort? Or still trying to find your sea legs?" Captain Yisra's weathered voice broke through my thoughts.

I hadn't heard her approach. She moved with the ship's rhythm as only someone born to the waves could do, utterly unaffected by the constant rolling motion that had turned my insides to liquid.

"Just thinking about journeys," I replied, not turning from the dark waters. "And trying to keep my last meal where it belongs. It seems the sea and I are still not friends."

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