“There is the matter of your name, Evander.”
Evander blinked. “My name?”
Storne shrugged.
“You are no longer of the House of Zrynon.”
At that, Amerei stepped forward, her voice bright with inspiration.
“I give you back the name of your birth,” she declared. “Evander Tassen, son of Raif.”
Evander’s lips parted, tasting the sound. “Evander Tassen…”
Storne clapped him on the shoulder, rough but not unkind.
“Then it’s done. Let’s thank our hosts and be on the road to Fyreglade.”
As if summoned, the door banged open, and out burst Misses Roland, apron dusted with flour, eyes bright as coals. She caught Storne in her sights, voice low but sharp enough to carry.
“Masten Storne, would their children be halflings, I wonder?” she asked, blissfully resuming their breakfast conversation. “She’s half-elf, half-man. He’s human. If you breed a mule to a mule, then breed their offspring back to a horse, would it still be a mule?”
Storne froze mid-step. He glanced helplessly at Amerei, then at Viktor, and a weary smile ghosted across his face.
“Better halflings than half of the soldiers I’ve trained,” he said, just loud enough for her.
Misses Roland harrumphed but fell silent, clearly satisfied.
Storne straightened, voice ringing command-sharp.
“Our thanks, Master Roland. Misses. You’ve given us more than we could ask.”
Amerei darted forward, pressing a quick kiss to each of their cheeks, whispering gratitude before running for Viktor’s horse.
The men moved to haul Viktor toward a spare mount, but Amerei’s voice cut through the morning.
“Wait! Ruby.”
She laid her hand to the mare’s cheek.
“She’ll kneel. I know she will.”
And as if the horse herself understood, Ruby bent low, dropping onto one knee in the dirt. The men exchanged startled glances.
Amerei turned, eyes bright and triumphant. Viktor only managed a huff of breath, part pain, part laugh, before stepping across the saddle instead of being lifted.
Snickers circled the yard.
Storne’s brow arched, dry as stone.
“You named your horse Ruby?”
Viktor winced as he settled, then let a smirk slip through.
“Your daughter named my horse Ruby.”
Amerei bit down a grin. The men busied themselves with the reins.
Storne’s gaze swept the yard, sharp as a drawn sword.
