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Instead, it felt like she was frozen in her current state of grief—unable to move forward, unable to move on. It probably didn’t help that she was just so, so tired. She dreaded going to sleep, never sure if her unconscious mind would force her to recall the horror of the attack, of what she’d learned about her father that night and in the days after. If she would dream of seeing his dead body, or if instead she would witness the horrific sight of Malakar rising in it.

She was able to stave off the thoughts while she was awake. Able to seek purpose. But the more capable the king and council became again—finally—the harder that was to come by as well.

At least there was still the role she filled for her friends. Tenny was thrilled to be able to stay current on everyone’s whereabouts, thanks to all the missives she received—both by regular means and, even better, the ones that occasionally poofed into existence from the shadows. She enjoyed being a kind of home base for updates on how all their various missions were going, spread throughout Arcanis as they were. If she couldn’t be out there with them, at least she got to be the first to receive notice, to pass along news when necessary, to help keep everyone connected.

Still, it wasn’t the same.

Wasn’t the same as having them back here, seeing their smiling faces, getting to share meals and quiet moments.

She missed them.

Missed being an active part of all the important things they were doing.

Wished she could be part of them too.

But she was not a victor of the Crucible.

She was not a diplomatic knight. She was not a nocterrian, burdened with knowledge so vast, her human brain could barely comprehend it. She was not the niece of a king or the daughter of a duchess.

She was nobody’s daughter.

“Gee, Ten. I don’t think I’ve seen an expression that glum since the last time I took Thraigg to the Cracked Keg only to find they’d run out of tinkerbrew.” Ollie’s crooning accent pulled a reluctant half smile from Tenny as she turned to face the fae, his ice-blue wings folded against his back as he leaned with one shoulder braced against the doorframe.

“Tinkerbrew?”

“Don’t tell him I told you, but it’s his favorite.” Ollie winked, and Tenny immediately felt lighter. It helped that at least he had elected to stay. She’d thought it a given that he would have wanted to go with Jocelyn when she departed Kingshelm for Elderglade. Tenny wouldn’t have blamed him if he had—she only wished she had been able to go too.

The hope that had sparked in her last week when she received Nox’s note informing her that Cedric had figured out how to find Elyria at last could not be overstated. Neither could the emotion she’d felt when a messily scrawled letter arrived from Young Shep a few days later, alerting her that the two of them had arrived safely at the sylvan sanctuary.

The relief that swept through Tenny upon reading those words had brought her to her knees. It had taken everything in her not to run out to the stables, saddle up her horse, and immediately make for Elderglade. But even if her pampered mare had the stamina to make the long journey into the Midlands—something that was questionable at best, given the horse’s name was Elizabeth, for Aurelia’s sake—it had been out of the question.

With the rebuilding efforts still precarious, with Barcroff’s voice in King Callum’s ear and entirely too many issues for the council to tackle at once, she wasn’t sure if she trusted the city to thrive without her.

It wasn’t a boastful thought. Tenny was tired, after all. She’d much prefer being able to jaunt off and do as she pleased. But this was where she was needed, for now. Where she was best able to help.

Wasn’t it?

“Buck up, buttercup,” said Ollie. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Oh?” Tenny huffed a small laugh—the first one she’d managed that morning.

Ollie grinned as he held out a neat stack of letters, and Tenny’s heart clenched at the sight of them. Not because she wasn’t glad to have them but because each and every missive in the pile was written on white paper, which meant yet another day would pass without an update from Nox. She’d run out of the supply of shadowscript parchment the nocterrian had left for her, which made sending a message back to them impossible now. She didn’t know where they were, and she didn’t know why that made her so uncomfortable—like her skin fit just a little bit wrong.

Playing the role of makeshift postmaster had simply gotten her used to knowing everything, and she didn’t like the thought of being out of the know now. That was all. She would have been uncomfortable with not knowing where any of her friends were.

Tenny took the stack from Ollie, smiling at the messy script of her own name scribbled atop the first one, and tore open Kit’s letter.

“Kit received our message about Elle. She plans to make for Elderglade immediately.” Tenny exhaled, her shoulders sagging with relief. At least she knew where she was.

She moved Kit’s letter to the bottom of the pile, then gave Ollie a knowing glance as she noted that the next one had very clearly already been opened. “You do know that Tristan wrote my name on this envelope, yes?”

Ollie shrugged. “Did he? Huh. Must’ve missed that.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what he said, hmm?”

“Oh, nothing much. He and Zephyr are still en route to Kinsgaith. Sent that note when they stopped in Goldenvale. It’s been a long journey⁠—”

“Well, yes, the Chasms will do that.”