Among the knights who had gone to stand in support of Lady Ashlynn, Sir Brennus Thorne stood very still as he watched his children walk down the central aisle of the Great Hall, and the relief that washed through him was so fierce that his knees nearly buckled beneath him.
They were alive. They were whole, and they were walking on their own two feet. Most importantly, from where he stood, he couldn't see any blood or bandages or injuries beyond the general dishevelment of two young people who had been through more in the last few hours than most squires experienced in their first year of service to a knight outside of a war.
But they were different from the way they'd been yesterday when he watched them climb aboard Lady Ashlynn's ship in Maeril to help her infiltrate the city.
