The very stones of the wall seemed to rush at her like the faeys, laughing with delight to see her again. When she turned to the man who was too short and too old truly to be her father, she had to force herself from beginning her greeting by saying, “You’ve moved the high throne to the other side of the hall.”

Instead she bowed formally to him and offered him her hand. He was wearing black, mourning that contrasted with her own jewelry and brightly embroidered garments.

“I am- I am glad to see you again, Karin,” he said. His voice came out half-choked. “By the Wanderers, you look like your mother.” He paused for a moment, then found his voice again. “We have put your brother-your brothers-into the same burial mound as your mother. Before you leave again, we can go there together if you wish to burn an offering.”

“I have brought her home, Kardan,” King Hadros said behind her. “You will find her as pure a maiden as when you first sent her to me.” She stiffened for a second, consciously trying to keep any expression from her face. “After more than ten years of peace between our kingdoms, our warriors have forgotten how to make war.” He held up a piece of parchment, dangling with seals, then crushed it and threw it into the hearth. “I remit you the tribute from this year forth, and I send you back your hostage.”

And suddenly it was as she had imagined ten years ago it would be, crushed in her father’s arms while he laughed with joy and kissed her. She kissed him back enthusiastically, feeling tears at the corners of her eyes. All at once, beyond expectation, she was home and safe.