They did indeed. The two men dropped back a full pace. Valaran brought the crop down against her horse’s flank. The white gelding reared, but she kept her seat. She galloped back to the city, sending snow flying and scattering the ranks of the foot soldiers. Wind tore her hood back, releasing a cloud of chestnut hair to the brittle sun.

Tol stared after her until Miya closed the rear curtain. “Cold air isn’t good for the baby,” she said.

It was an effort to pull his mind away from Valaran, but there was genuine fondness in his tone when Tol asked, “Boy or girl?”

“Boy. Eli.” Tol got a glimpse of dark hair, and two enormous brown eyes peeking out from the swaddling.

Kiya cracked her whip, and the team got moving. Tol didn’t have to ask where they were going. Miya and Kiya were returning home, to the distant forest known as the Great Green. They would be welcomed by their own tribe, and Tol would find a haven to heal and rest.

“It’s not done,” he murmured, as fatigue and Miya’s wine claimed him.

“I know,” Miya said, but Tol was already asleep. Not even baby Eli’s crying disturbed him.