The air outside the castle walls didn't just feel cold, it felt thin, as if the world were losing its substance the closer they moved toward the North.
Lucas rode with a rigid, terrifying efficiency.
He didn't look at the frost-covered scenery or the jagged peaks of the mountains.
North was always cold no matter the weather in the other dukedoms.
His eyes were fixed on the horizon, his gloved hands steady on the reins. The horse neighed.
"You're going to kill that horse if you don't ease up, Butler," Rhyena called out, her voice barely audible over the thunder of hooves. She rode with a loose, predatory grace, her warhorse chewing up the distance without effort.
"The horse will survive, Princess," Lucas replied, his voice clipped and dry. "Lyla might not."
Rhyena let out a sharp, dry laugh that sounded like gravel grinding together.
"I didn't realize you had a heart, Lucas. I thought Alex had replaced it with a pocket watch and a schedule years ago."
