Page 9 of The War of Four Winters

The council chamber fell into a tense discussion of details. They spoke of the supplies needed, signals to be arranged, protocols for the parley. I let their voices wash over me, my mind already racing ahead to what waited in Homeshore. To Michail.

My brother would be expecting me to come crawling back, broken and repentant. Instead, he would face a prince of two realms, a former slave who now commanded armies. The thought should have filled me with satisfaction, but all I felt was a deep weariness. So many possible futures balanced on what would happen in that port city.

The candles guttered in a sudden draft, shadows dancing across faces marked by power and ambition. I caught Ruith watching me, concern hidden beneath his mask of royal authority. He knew better than anyone what returning to face Michail would cost me.

"Captain Yisra's ship is due in four days with the supply run," Niro said, consulting a dispatch. "We can have the Broken Blades ready to sail as soon as she makes port."

"Then we have four days to prepare," Ruith said, his voice carrying over the council's debate. "Make them count."

Four days to prepare for a meeting I had both dreaded and longed for. Four days that might determine whether we faced endless war or found an unlikely path to peace.

Thewarcouncil'svoicesstill echoed in my head as I climbed the tower steps. Four days until Captain Yisra's ship arrived. Four days to prepare for what felt increasingly like sacrificing my heart to uncertainty. My fingers found the scar beneath my ribs where Daraith's ritual knife had carved out my death price, the phantom pain sharper tonight than it had been in weeks. I'd already died once to keep Elindir alive. The thought of sending him directly to Michail made that sacrifice seem almost meaningless.

Sunset painted the western walls in fire, long shadows stretching across the courtyard below. From this height, I could see the frantic activity that had consumed Calibarra since the council ended. Warriors drilling in tight formation. Scouts departing in pairs, melting into the winter forest beyond our walls. Servants scurrying between buildings with supplies and messages. The fortress had transformed into a hive of preparation, every soul focused on the mission that would depart in four days' time.

Four days would pass far too quickly.

I paused at the window, watching a small figure cross the courtyard below. Elindir moved with the same confidence he'd shown in the council chamber, his copper hair catching the dying light like a war banner. Even from this distance, I could see how warriors and servants alike made way for him, offering salutes or bows as he passed. No longer the broken slave who'd been delivered to me in chains just months ago, he commanded respect now, not because of his position as my consort, but because of who he had become.

In other circumstances, I might have felt pride at that transformation. Instead, I felt only the cold weight of dread settling in my chest.

Our chambers were empty when I reached them, the fire burning low in the hearth. I crossed to the window, tracking Elindir's movement through the courtyard until he disappeared beneath an archway. The sight of him among my people, wearing my colors, moving with the authority of his position, still sent a possessive thrill through me even now.

I poured myself a glass of wine from the decanter on the sideboard, attempting to calm the storm of emotions that had followed me from the council chambers. The rich flavor did little to wash away the cold fear that had lodged in my throat since the decision was made.

The door opened behind me, and Elindir entered, slightly breathless from the stairs. He'd discarded his formal council attire for simpler garb, though the blue of House Starfall still marked his collar and cuffs.

"I just finished with Niro," he said, moving to pour his own glass of wine. "We were discussing security arrangements for the voyage to Homeshore."

"And what did you decide?" I asked, watching as he rolled his shoulders to release the tension gathered there.

"Twenty of the Broken Blades to accompany us," he replied, taking a sip of wine. "Plus Niro himself. Enough to show strength without appearing as a military threat." His eyes found mine over the rim of his glass. "Captain Yisra will handle the naval aspects, of course."

"We risk more than just appearances," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Elindir's eyes found mine, reading the tension there. "You disagree with the council's decision," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Politically, it's sound," I admitted. "We need time to strengthen our position, to gather intelligence. Your presence at Homeshore could provide both."

"But?" He sipped his wine, watching me over the rim of his glass.

"But sending you to face the man who broke you once before..." The words caught in my throat. I took a long swallow of wine instead, the rich flavor doing nothing to wash away the fear lodged there.

"He didn't break me." Elindir's voice hardened, a flash of the same anger that had driven him into the forest upon hearing of Michail's arrival. "He tried. He failed."

"And now you give him another chance." I set my glass down harder than intended, the wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" He moved closer, close enough that I could smell the pine and leather scent that was uniquely his. "Giving him another opportunity to hurt me?"

"I think you're walking into the lair of a man who spent months torturing you, who ordered you collared and sold, who would delight in nothing more than seeing you broken again." My voice rose despite my efforts to contain it. "And for what? The slim chance that his followers might question their allegiance if they see you standing proud at my side?"

"For the chance to save thousands of lives." His eyes held mine, steady and certain. "For the chance to prevent genocide."

"At what cost?" The question escaped before I could stop it, raw and honest in a way I rarely allowed myself.

Elindir set his glass aside, his hands coming up to frame my face. The touch was gentle but firm, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Whatever the cost," he said softly, "it's mine to pay. Not yours."

"That's where you're wrong." My hands found his wrists, not to break his hold, but to anchor myself to him. "Everything you are, everything you feel... it belongs to me now, just as everything I am belongs to you. Your pain is my pain. Your fate is mine."

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