From beside me, I caught glimpses of flashing metal as Soren tucked away knives and daggers in hidden spots in his own leathers. Two in each bracer, one on a sheath on his leg, another hung subtly from his hip, before he reached for the scabbards that held the two swords he carried on his back. From his hip hung his own quiver and his longbow rested on one shoulder.

“A bow too?” I asked, surprised.

Soren snorted. “Just in case. You and I both know that you’re way better than me with a bow. I use one to keep up pretenses, but it’s not like my eyesight has gotten any better.” He waved two fingers across his eyes. “It’ll be more cumbersome to carry something I can’t use as accurately as I need to be. But we don’t know what we’re up against, so I’d rather not take the extra risk of someone finding out their Erlking is a bad shot.”

“If it helps, I think your eyes are pretty.”

His lips twitched into the hint of a smile. “Pretty, not practical. That’s what I miss most about home. The sun wasn’t nearly out as much for most of the year except for that one week in the midsummer.” His eyes had a faraway look to them.

“During that one week, you couldn’t even go outside because it was so bright out, and you couldn’t see and would burn so badly,” I remembered. “You were so grumpy.”

“Then the dark would come again and the days would be muted, and I wouldn’t have to worry about wearing a cloak that covered every inch of skin,” he continued with the memory. “I really miss it. Here is fine. It’s not completely in the south, so it’s not as extreme as, say, where Seppo grew up, but it’s still a bit too bright for me.”

I nodded, looking around at the stone and marble walls of the palace, the artwork etched into the very stones themselves, the archways and high ceilings. I thought about the millions of secret passageways and how random hallways could lead off into a sharp fall into a pit and the multitude of traps set up that kept travelers and visitors on their toes. So elegant in its own lethal way, yet I also found myself longing for the solitude of the small manor up in the High North where Soren originally lived. It was far less grand, colder, made of quarried stone and wood, and so austere compared to the Erlking’s palace, but it was also a place I called home for a hundred years.

“I miss it too,” I said softly.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he fit another small dagger into a hidden sheath in his boot. “Really? I would’ve thought the memories…” He trailed off.