Kyra’s heart flooded with excitement as she pictured their journey to Espehus, the ancient stronghold perched on the sea, their biggest neighbor to the south. She became even more excited as she realized—if he was going there it could only mean one thing: he was preparing for war.

He nodded, as if reading her mind.

“There is no turning back now,” he said.

Kyra looked back at her father with a sense of pride she had not felt in years. He was no longer the complacent warrior, living his middle years in the security of a small fort—but now the bold commander she once knew, willing to risk it all for freedom.

“When do we leave?” she asked, her heart pounding, anticipating her first battle.

She was surprised to see him shake his head.

“Not we,” he corrected. “I and my men. Not you.”

Kyra was crestfallen, his words like a dagger in her heart.

“Would you leave me behind?” she asked, stammering. “After all that has happened? What else must I do to prove myself to you?”

He shook his head firmly, and she was devastated to see the hardened look in his eyes, a look which she knew meant he would not bend.

“You shall go to your uncle,” he said. It was a command, not a request, and with those words she knew where she stood: she was his soldier now, not his daughter. It hurt her.

Kyra breathed deep—she would not give in so quickly.

“I want to fight alongside you,” she insisted. “I can help you.”

“You will be helping me,” he said, “by going where you’re needed. I need you with him.”

She furrowed her brow, trying to understand.

“But why?” she asked.

He was silent for a long time, until he finally sighed.

“You possess…” he began, “…skills I do not understand. Skills that we will need to win this war. Skills that only your uncle will know how to foster.”

He reached out and held her shoulder meaningfully.

“If you want to help us,” he added, “if you want to help our people, that is where you are needed. I don’t need another soldier—I need the unique talents you have to offer. The skills that no one else has.”

She saw the earnestness in his eyes, and while she felt awful at the prospect of being unable to join him, she felt some reassurance in his words—along with a heightened sense of curiosity. She wondered what skills he was referring to, and wondered who her uncle might be.

“Go and learn what I cannot teach you,” he added. “Come back stronger. And help me win.”

Kyra looked into his eyes, and she felt the respect, the warmth returning, and she began to feel restored again.