(Kieran's POV)
I had lost count of how many nights we had fought just to keep the Ironclaws and Shadowfangs from pouring through the walls, but my body carried the count.
I had bruises like storm clouds etched on my ribs and cuts that stung through the bandages they were wrapped in. Even my bones ached whether I moved or not.
But I didn't rest. I could not.
Because if I stopped, the warriors would also stop. And if they stopped, we would all die.
Father had not visited the wall in days. He spent his days in the council halls where he promised deals and alliances, but the warriors no longer waited for him. Instead, they looked to me. And every time I was awake, I felt their eyes watching and waiting for me to lift my sword and lead them into another day of survival.
But tonight, their eyes were different.
It held hope instead of the fright I had seen in weeks.
And it wasn't for me.
They hoped in her.
