Hrolf is quiet for a long moment. He doesn't offer comfort and I'm grateful for it.
"There is a way to save her," Hrolf says suddenly, moving closer to the bars. "If you're not above using fae magic."
My head snaps up. "Tell me."
"There's a healer who lives in the land of the fae," Hrolf replies, his voice low but certain. "Best I've ever known. If anyone can bring her back from the edge, it's him."
"Is he good?" My voice fractures with desperate hope. "Can he really help her?"
Hrolf scratches his beard, choosing his words carefully. "He's treated many horses and wyverns. They say there's no creature he can't bring back from death's door. No disease he can't cure."
I pause and stare at him. My brain slowly processes what he just said. "You want me to take my wife to an animal doctor?"
"He's good," Hrolf insists, meeting my gaze without flinching. "Trust me on this. I've seen his work. He can cure anydisease, mend any wound. Things that shouldn't be possible, he makes them possible."
An animal doctor… for Rhianelle.
But what choice do I have? The best healers in the elven kingdoms have failed. Elven medicine has reached its limits. Anastarros blessings, one of the Seventy-seven, have proven useless. We're out of options.
"But he might not even be at his usual place," Hrolf warns. "During warring times, the fae retreat to their deep places. Hide themselves away from the world."
"Can you find him?"
"I know where to start looking." Hrolf stands, gripping the bars. "But I'm warning you now. It's dangerous territory. Fae lands don't follow normal rules. The paths shift and time moves differently. That's before we account for whatever creatures live there."
"I don't care about the danger," I say, stepping closer. "Point it out to me on a map."
"I can't point to it on any map." Hrolf shakes his head slowly. "It lies beyond charted borders. Their sanctuaries are warded, hidden. You won't find them inked on parchment."
"But you know where to start," I press.
He exhales slowly. "I know where to begin looking. But the journey will be difficult. There's no guarantee we'll find him."
I don't hesitate. "Lead the way then."
Hrolf lifts a brow. "I'm still a prisoner, last I checked."
"Not anymore."
Shadows surge outward in a wave, climbing the bars and pulling them apart piece by piece. Darkness seeps into the metal, devouring their shape and turning them into nothing.
The cell stands open and Hrolf steps through cautiously. "You know the elves will try to stop us."
"Let them try."
We make it exactly three blocks through the city before running into a wall of elven nobility. Commanders, generals, lords and ladies from various regions who've arrived to visit their dying queen. They take one look at Hrolf walking free beside me and swords sing from sheaths.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Ctibor demands, his face flushing red. "Why is the terrorist free? Why is the Butcher of Dunrovin walking our streets?"
"He's leading me to a healer," I say with forced calm. "In Avalon. Someone who might be able to save Rhianelle."
"You cannot be serious." Lord Kharlis's face twists with outrage. "Letting this monster lead you anywhere? How do we know it's not a trick? How do we know he won't lead you straight into a fae ambush?"
Commander Eidith steps forward, hand on her sword. "He'll take you into fae territory and hand you over to Eirik Bloodhound. This is obviously a trap."
"I'm willing to take that risk."
"We are not!" Another lord shouts. "The security of Aelfheim—"
