When Bryn returned to the bedroom, Dyla was waiting. She wore a light nightdress that Nelly had altered the back off. It now cut low, leaving her still-reddened tattoo uncovered. Dyla twisted so Bryn could see the work. She twitched a bit when his callous fingers brushed the tender skin.

"It suits you," he murmured and she smiled. She liked the tattoo, it was beautifully intricate and everything about it spoke of Bryn. She felt as if part of him would always be there now, there on her skin, as close as they had ever been.

As Bryn undressed, she frowned a bit. Another thought had crossed her mind as she'd sat still, Nelly gently treating her sore back. When the men had returned to guard the door, they caught a glimpse of Dyla's tattoo. When they saw the mark, they had grown pale, their eyes quickly shifting to the floor respectfully. It proved her as Bryn's and she suspected one reason she had the tattoo was to protect her from his new army.

And she would only need that protection if they were apart.

As they lied down together in the dark, her back joyfully exposed to the cool night air, Dyla finally whispered, "Will you stay, my lord?" She bit her lip, unsure whether the question would anger him.

He touched her face, his fingers sliding down her neck and collarbone. "No, woman. I will leave before the day is out tomorrow."

She took his hand and squeezed it. Asking the question without words. He sighed.

"I came for my son, not for you."

She couldn't contain her shocked gasp. Slowly, she released his hand, but he took hers. "You are not ready to come with me. Stay here so I will return."

Dyla left her hand in his but did not respond, her heart aching. He made a frustrated grumble. "Woman." His tone warning.

Quietly she whispered, "I will wait. I will always wait for you, my lord. But how long will you torture me?"

His strong arms encircled her, pulling her close, carefully avoiding her back. She could feel his breath in the dark as he answered, "Not long. I will be back each winter until you are ready."

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She sighed with relief and guided his face to hers in the blackness. Winter, she could wait for winter.

True to his word, Bryn prepared to leave the next evening. As the family saw him off, Dyla discovered that while she had been with the tattoo artist, Bryn had been giving her children lessons. Both now had small knives on their belts and Fenrin eagerly showed his mother the forms his father had taught him. She smiled and kept him close, despite his objections.

"Fenrin," Bryn said in his rumbling voice.

The boy squirmed free of his mother and bounded over to Bryn eagerly, hoping for more gifts. "Yes, father?"

"Go get your coat and boots."

Fenrin ran off, excited to be going outside again after the long winter. Lyra turned to slip out too, but Bryn's grey eyes pinned her down. "Not you, Lyra. Stay with your mother."

The girl's lips pressed together and she looked like she was about to go anyway but spotted Dyla gesturing her over. She marched over to her mother who took her hand. Lyra glanced up, feeling her mother's well hidden trembling.

"What's wrong, momma?" she asked, but Dyla just shook her head. They waited hand in hand as Bryn and Fenrin prepared to leave.

When Fenrin returned, he found his father similarly dressed, his huge fur cape slung over his shoulder along with a large pack. He was also joined by three men who had arrived this morning. One with the dark skin of a Duskar. Fenrin slowed, suspicious, but Bryn stepped forward and grabbed his arm, slipping it into the straps of a small pack.

"Where are we going?" Fenrin asked.

"First to the ocean and then into the wilds."

Fenrin glanced over to his mother and sister. Seeing Lyra in her dress, her feet bare on the stone, warmed by the fire, something stirred in his memory. He pulled away from his father. "I don't want to go!"

Bryn just forced his other arm in. Dyla flinched but said calmly, "Go on Fenrin. It will be an adventure for you. You'll be back next winter, so be a good boy and listen to your father."

Fenrin's eyes teared up and he pulled away again. "No! I don't want to go!"

For a moment, Dyla feared Bryn would strike him but he just picked him up easily and tucked him under his arm. He nodded to Dyla and the group turned and left, Fenrin screaming and crying under Bryn's arm. Lyra tried to move forward, but her mother kept a firm grip on her hand until the group was out of sight.

"Jylee," Dyla called for the twin's nursemaid who appeared from the hall, "make sure Lyra goes to bed and stays there."

Jylee nodded and sternly took Lyra's hand. The girl's green eyes flashed, but when she saw her mother's pale face, she obeyed.

Dyla stayed by the hearth until the fire died down, then, with a shiver, she wrapped her arms around herself and went to bed.