Page 32 of The War of Four Winters

"What was it, then?"

"A memory," he said simply. "From before."

Before. That single word contained multitudes—before Calibarra, before freedom. I settled on the edge of his bed, giving him space while remaining close enough to offer comfort if needed.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Leif's fingers continued working the edge of his blanket. "I was dreaming about Master Varro. He was the merchant who owned us before..." His voice trailed off. "He used to promise things. He'd say, 'Be good and I'll bring you something from the market.' Or, 'Work hard and maybe I'll let you sleep inside tonight.'" Bitterness crept into his young voice. "He never kept his promises. Not once."

Understanding dawned, sharp and painful. "And in your dream?"

"He promised he'd come back," Leif whispered. "Just like Elindir promised."

The raw fear in those words struck me like a physical blow. Of course. For a child who had known nothing but broken promises from adults who controlled his fate, Elindir's departure would reawaken old wounds, old fears of abandonment.

"Elindir is not Master Varro," I said, the certainty in my voice born of absolute faith. "When he promises to return, he means it."

"But what if he can't?" Leif asked, his voice cracking. "What if something happens, and he wants to come back, but he can't?"

The question pierced straight to my own deepest fear, the one I'd been battling since watching Captain Yisra's ship disappear over the horizon. What if Elindir never returned? What if Michail imprisoned him again, or worse?

"Then I would go find him," I said, the words emerging with such fierce conviction that Leif's eyes widened. "Just as I did before."

Curiosity temporarily overshadowed fear in the boy's expression. "Before?"

I shifted on the bed, considering how to share our history in a way that was appropriate for a child. "Has Elindir ever told you how we met?"

Leif shook his head. "He said it was complicated."

A laugh escaped me. "That's certainly one word for it." I studied Leif's face, those serious eyes that missed nothing. "Would you like to hear the story? It might help you understand why I'm so certain he'll return to us."

He nodded, pulling his blanket up to his chin as he settled against his pillow.

"It began with my father, the Primarch," I started, choosing my words carefully. "He sent me to bring back a special prisoner—a human prince who had been enslaved by his own brother."

"Elindir," Leif whispered.

"Yes. He had been captured, collared, and sold. But even then, wearing chains that should have broken his spirit, Elindir remained defiant." I smiled at the memory of his fierce glare when I first saw him, the way he'd stood tall despite everything that had been done to him. "He challenged me from the moment we met. Refused to be what others wanted him to be."

"Was he afraid?" Leif asked.

"He must have been," I acknowledged. "But he never showed it. Instead, he showed courage, intelligence, and determination. Even when it seemed there was no hope, he kept fighting."

I described how Elindir had organized other slaves, how he'd earned their trust and loyalty through respect rather than fear. I told Leif about Elindir's tactical brilliance, his ability to see solutions where others saw only problems. The stories flowed easily, carefully edited to omit the more violent aspects of our early relationship, focusing instead on Elindir's resilience and our growing mutual respect.

"And then, when things were at their worst, when it seemed he might never be free again, something changed between us," I continued. "I realized I couldn't bear to see him in chains anymore. Not just him—any of them. And so together, we began working toward freedom. For everyone."

"And you fell in love," Leif said.

"Yes," I admitted. "Though it took us both time to recognize it."

"And now you're going to get married, like in the stories Master Gracin tells."

"We're already married, after a fashion," I explained. "Elindir is my consort, which is like a spouse for royalty. It means we're bound together—by law, by choice, and by heart."

Leif nodded, accepting this with the same solemnity he approached everything. "And that's why he'll come back. Because he loves you."

"Because he loves all of us," I corrected gently. "You and Torsten are very important to him. To both of us."

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