He’d passed out from the pain, and when he came to, he discovered it was nearly impossible to move.


    “Bitch cut my tendons.” he snarled into the dirt, his back, his legs, and his arms searing with agony. His hands and feet ached with a dull throb that quickly ratcheted up to a scream when he moved them.


    He was certain the Mist Prowlers would come for him as he faded in and out of consciousness, but when they didn’t, and he started feeling a little better, he tried to move, and discovered what that cheeky Wildling Elf had done to him.


    She’d cut off most of each finger on both hands, leaving only token nubs. If his guess was right, his toes were gone, as well. What really made him worry was the nearly surgical cuts that severed the tendons at his elbows and knees, effectively hobbling him. He wouldn’t be able to stand, or even crawl properly.


    He muttered a healing spell, but all that did was close the wounds and cleanse them against infection. He was effectively hobbled for life, unless he found someone with the miraculous capability for regenerative magic.


    His face curled into a mask of venomous hate. He’d visit what that bitch did to him on her, her family, and any other Wildling Elf he found tenfold!


    Slowly, painfully, frustratingly, Artrus began to crawl.


    *****


    Sheilah and Fialla had been in Stormheim for a month. Their speech and mannerisms had improved dramatically though they were still barely literate, and almost completely useless with math over two digits.


    “It’s frustrating to constantly hear her talk about that tribe of savages as family, when her real family is right here, husband.” Magdalene complained. “She talks of her mothers- mothers! Two of them!- and her father, and her sisters, but she still addresses you and I by name only.”


    She tossed herself into her chair, eyed a bit of discarded knitting, made a face at it, and picked up a book instead.


    Toril let out a sigh. “Truthfully, I expected it. We gave her to them as a baby, Magdalene. She doesn’t know better. We just need to get to know each other, and make sure she comes to understand that we are her family.”


    “We shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t have given her to them.” She replied, closing the book with a snap.


    “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Dark Elves had planned for her to ‘disappear’ like her brother.” Toril rebutted. “We saved her life.”


    “She can... do things.” Magdalene muttered. “And I’m not talking about the climbing.” She added. Sheilah had been admonished twice more for climbing around the castle.


    “Davian could as well.” Toril replied blandly. “I was hoping for it, actually.”


    Magdalene’s head came up at that. “What?”


    “One of Davian’s handlers got tired of beating him and tried to poison him instead. Davian shrugged it right off, as if he hadn’t even been poisoned. A useful ability for a princess in a country that is currently hostage to the elves, no?”


    “Are you trying to sound smug?” Magdalene asked.


    Toril smiled a little. “Not really. It’s just... I want Stormheim to be free of the elves, Magdalene. Ideally while I am still alive. But if it’s not while I’m alive, then perhaps it will happen under Sheilah’s reign.”


    “I haven’t heard or seen anything of the Dark Elves since Sheilah arrived, Toril.” Magdalene worried.


    “I know.” He agreed. “Sheilah did... something- she won’t say what, but she did something to Damiel that sent him packing. I haven’t heard a peep from him, or the other one, either.”


    “Did something?” Magdalene asked, worried.


    Toril lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “I was right there. She just stared at him, and he tore out of my office as if he’d seen the Heart of the Abyss itself.”


    “I think that worries me more than it should.” Magdalene replied.


    “How well are the two of them learning?” Toril asked.


    Magdalene groaned in response.


    “Give them a break. Take them horseback riding or something.” He suggested, and then paused. “Didn’t you promise to let them go hunting every weekend?”


    She nodded. “They haven’t asked, though.”


    Toril scratched his chin. “That’s no good. It’s got to be tough on them. They need to be able to blow off some steam.” He grunted. “My own uncle used to take me hunting from time to time on the edges of Thorheim forest when I’d get frustrated with my studies.”


    “Thorheim? I wouldn’t let them go there.” Magdalene rebutted. “Well, maybe Fialla.”


    He chuckled. “It’s not so bad on the outskirts. And they did hunt some Mist Prowlers without any problems.”


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    “Too risky.” She immediately rebutted.


    Toril chuckled again. “I learned a little of Davian’s people while he was here with us. They’re a fierce bunch. Taking them to the hunting preserve isn’t going to give them the stress relief they need. Their tribe hunts predators, Magdalene. Things that can kill them. Taking them to the hunting preserve is like sticking them in a sheep pen with an axe. There’s no challenge.”


    Magdalene toyed with the strange gem that Sheilah had given her; true to his word, Toril had it mounted into a pendant, and it nestled itself against the tops of her breasts. Sometimes she fancied she could feel a mild, not-unpleasant tingling from it.


    “I believe I will retire for the evening, husband.” Magdalene decided, and stood up. She gave him a significant look. “Will you accompany me?”


    *****


    Sheilah woke from a dream where she was hunting in the Redstone. She opened her eyes and slowly realized that for some reason Fialla was sprawled face down across Sheilah’s body.


    “A bed that could sleep ten people comfortably and she always ends up like this.” She muttered, and wormed one of her arms out from under Fialla’s sleeping form. She prodded Fialla in the ribs hard with a finger, and the girl squirmed in her sleep. Sheilah jabbed her again, and Fialla woke up with an irritated look.


    “Looks like I win again.” Sheilah greeted Fialla.


    “What’s the point of waking up this early if all we’re going to do is read books?” Fialla complained, pushing herself upright and then laying down next to Sheilah. “Reading is boring.”


    “Says the one that is so much better at it than me.” Sheilah complained. “I can stare at the stupid little squiggles all day and not make sense of them.”


    Fialla turned her head to look at the human girl. “Really?”


    Sheilah nodded. “Father tried to teach me all the time in the Redstone, but I was never able to do it.” Her voice dropped lower. “I always felt like I was letting him down when I couldn’t understand.” Her voice dipped up, then. “And now, here we are in Stormheim, and they keep telling me how important it is, and how important I will be, and how I need to know it...” She shook her head, and Fialla could see the glimmers of tears in the corners of her eyes.


    “In the Redstone, we would not be looking at ‘little squiggles’ on a page.” Fialla replied, embracing her sister. “Instead, we would be looking for a husband.”


    This teased a laugh from Sheilah.


    “Princess, it’s time to wake.” Andrea called from the other side of the door.


    Sheilah glanced at Fialla, who nodded, and they climbed out of bed.


    Sheilah called in the maid, who helped the two of them dress, then escorted them to breakfast.


    “I am not looking forward to more books.” Sheilah muttered around a biscuit. At first, their novel taste and texture captivated her, but she was rapidly becoming bored with them.


    “Your father, King Toril, will be taking care of your lessons for today.” Andrea replied, which caused Sheilah and Fialla to glance at each other in surprise. “He seems to believe that an outing will be beneficial to your studies.” Andrea concluded, her tone suggesting that it was the most inane and stupid thing she’d ever heard.


    Sheilah set down her biscuit and tried to think it through, unconsciously folding her arms the way Magdalene did. What sort of outing would Toril be suggesting?


    Her head came up as part of her mind warned her that someone was approaching her apartments.


    “Andrea, someone is at the door.” Sheilah and Fialla announced, their voices overlapping.


    Andrea gave the two of them a subtle impatient look, but left the dining room and headed towards the door to welcome Sheilah’s guest. She hadn’t believed the two of them in the past, but consistency had proved them correct.


    What frustrated her was that it was her responsibility to receive the Princess’ guests and announce them. Every time they warned Andrea, it felt like an admonishment and an insult to her capabilities as a maid. Further, it didn’t seem as if the two girls were even malicious about it.


    When Toril arrived, Sheilah and Fialla greeted him in the way that Magdalene had instructed; he gave them a wry, bemused look and returned their greetings.


    “We’re going out.” He announced, and then paused. “I have some gifts for you; I had the liberty of commissioning...” He trailed off, and then shrugged. “Eh, we’re going hunting for the next few days. I brought you some gifts. Get your bows and such and come on.” He finished in a much more casual and familiar tone than he had in the beginning.


    “Our studies?” Sheilah asked, after trading looks with Fialla.


    “On hold.” He replied casually. “C’mon, let’s go, let’s go!” He urged.


    Sheilah nodded and looked to Fialla, and the two rose and headed to their room.


    “I’m still not used to not cleaning up after myself.” Sheilah muttered to Fialla, even though she was focused on the thoughts of picking up her bow and quiver.


    “The idea of someone else picking up after me is weird.” Fialla agreed. In the Redstone, you did everything yourself. Only children were unable to look after themselves, and they learned to fix that quickly.


    “Will you be able to fit into your dragon leathers?” Fialla asked curiously. “You’ve grown a bit.” She pointedly looked up at Sheilah, who had indeed grown.


    “You’ve grown, too.” Sheilah observed. “And none of either of our families have had problems wearing theirs, so I imagine they will be fine.”


    Fialla nodded at that. “Still, hunting at that place will be boring. Deer and pigs?” She added dubiously.


    The two girls picked up their bows; Sheilah once more contemplated the sword that Davian had crafted for her.


    “I really want to learn the sword so I can carry this properly.” Sheilah muttered, hand on the blade.


    “Will you take it anyway?” Fialla asked.


    “I hardly think it’s useful for hunting. It’s too different from the clan’s blades.” Sheilah replied, and then looked to Fialla. “Your spear?”


    Fialla stretched out her hand and ran her finger down the dragonbone haft gently. She had been carving it in flowing elven script and Redstone symbols since they’d arrived in Stormheim.


    “I don’t think so.” She decided.


    “I think you should.” Sheilah replied. “I should have brought a spear on my dragon hunt. You made the better choice.”


    Fialla shook her head. “Not for something as ... pointless... as this.” She explained. “It’s like hunting livestock. There’s no risk or challenge.” She paused. “That thunderbird was an exception, and we happened upon it by chance, so don’t you dare argue with me.” she added with a warning look.


    Shielah chuckled. “I wouldn’t argue with you over that, sister.” She said in a warm voice. “But I will argue about the spear. Shooting with a bow is easy. Hunting with a spear is harder. It might be more challenging for you.”


    Fialla gave Sheilah a dubious look. “I will, but only because you suggested it.”