Page 96 of The War of Four Winters

"Rest is our most immediate need," I managed, forcing the words past a throat raw from days of thirst and tension. "Then we must contact our forces."

"Already done, Your Majesty," Captain Seagrave assured me. "Messengers were dispatched the moment we received word of your escape. Your armies have been alerted and move to secure positions around the city."

Relief flooded through me, momentarily overshadowing the bone-deep weariness. "And the Yeutish forces?"

"Three hours from the city gates, according to our latest reports. Kudai leads them personally." She gestured toward a stone building that stood slightly apart from the others, its windows protected by finely crafted iron lattices. "Please, this way. You'll have privacy there."

We followed her through the bustling compound, passing merchants and guild members who paused in their activities to bow or nod respectfully.

The building she led us to resembled those I'd seen in coastal trading ports, its nautical influences evident in the curved roofs and facades decorated with stylized sea creatures carved by artisans from diverse backgrounds. Inside proved even more striking, with rooms showcasing items from the Craiggybottoms' far-reaching trade connections. Each chamber we passed displayed a different cultural aesthetic, reflecting the patchwork nature of a community built on membership rather than birth.

"These chambers were designed for visiting trade partners," Captain Seagrave explained, leading us down a wide corridor. "We've allocated the entire wing for your party. Guards are positioned at all entrances and have been instructed to admit only those you specifically authorize."

She stopped before a set of double doors crafted from rich red wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl. "Your quarters, Your Majesty." She presented a key of similar craftsmanship. "The healing chambers are directly across the hall, where your companions will be treated. When you're ready, I'll be available to discuss our strategic position."

I accepted the key with a nod of thanks, aware that proper gratitude would have to wait until my mind was clearer. "You've taken considerable risk harboring us, Captain. House Craiggybottom has proven itself a true ally."

A hint of pride touched her features. "We remember who stood with us when traditional houses sought to strip our trading rights. Your support then earned our loyalty now." She bowed again and departed, leaving us to recover from our ordeal in private.

Katyr touched my shoulder briefly as he guided Daraith toward the healing chambers. "We'll speak when you've rested," he said, understanding in his golden eyes. "The city won't fall in a few hours, and you're in no condition for strategy yet."

I couldn't argue with his assessment. Even standing upright had become a challenge, my body demanding recompense for days of deprivation and stress. Niro and Aryn followed them, though Aryn cast a meaningful glance at Elindir before departing.

"I'll stand watch while you rest," Elindir said once they had gone, his hand moving to the sword he'd acquired during our escape.

"No," I countered, unlocking the chamber doors. "You're as exhausted as I am. Perhaps more so, after whatever you endured to reach D'thallanar."

The quarters beyond the doors were spacious and well-appointed, though lacking the ostentatious luxury of traditional noble houses. A large sitting area centered around a fireplace already lit against the winter chill. Beyond, visible through an arched doorway, stood a bedroom containing a wide bed covered in richly colored blankets. A copper bathing tub occupied a small adjacent chamber, steam rising gently from water that must have been prepared moments before our arrival.

I barely registered these details, my attention fixed on Elindir as he secured the door behind us. Now, in the privacy of these chambers, I could finally see him properly. Could finally believe he was real, not some desperate hallucination born of imprisonment and near-execution.

"You're here," I whispered, the words inadequate for the storm of emotion they attempted to contain. "In D'thallanar. You risked everything..."

He crossed the room in swift strides, closing the distance between us. His hands framed my face with surprising gentleness, his eyes searching mine as if memorizing every detail.

"I came to warn the Assembly about Michail," he said, his eyes holding mine. "But when I arrived in D'thallanar and learned of your capture..." His voice roughened with emotion. "Finding you became as vital as my original mission. Perhaps more so."

Something broke inside me then, a dam holding back all I'd suppressed during my imprisonment. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him against me desperately. He returned the embrace without hesitation, his body solid and warm against mine, proof that this moment was real. That we had survived.

"When my father offered me exile instead of execution," I confessed against his neck, inhaling the scent of him beneath tunnel dust and river water, "the price was renouncing you. Publicly declaring our relationship a mistake. Even knowing it meant death, I couldn't do it."

His arms tightened around me. "I would have understood. We do what we must to stay alive."

"No," I pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "Some prices are too high. Some truths are too essential to deny, even for survival."

His hand cupped my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with painful tenderness. "You impossible, stubborn elf," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I never doubted you would choose death before dishonor. That's why we had to get you out."

How long we stood there, I couldn't say. Time seemed suspended as we held each other, the simple act of embrace more healing than anything the Craiggybottom physicians might offer. When we finally separated, it was only far enough to look at each other properly, my hands still resting at his waist, his remaining on my shoulders.

"You need to rest," he said, his eyes taking in the evidence of my ordeal with carefully controlled anger. "And that bath will grow cold if we don't use it."

The thought of warm water against my skin after days in a filthy cell sent a shiver of longing through me. "Will you join me?"

A smile touched his lips, brief but genuine. "Do you think I'd let you out of my sight now?"

He guided me toward the bathing chamber, his hands steady as he helped me remove the formal clothing Tarathiel had chosen for my execution. The Deepfrost insignia on the tunic made his face tighten with disgust, and he discarded the garment with particular vehemence.

"They made you wear his colors," he muttered, anger flashing in his eyes.

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